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ahundredtimesover · 11 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

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m3l0nfl0at · 1 month ago

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hey blondie - k. tsukishima

tsukishima kei x f!reader ; brothers best friend! tsukki x yamaguchi’s sister! reader, accidental meetings, kind of slow burn, grumpy x sunshine trope, loosely based off of hey blondie by dominic fike, fluff, angst, sendai frogs team cameo!!, overprotective brother yams, yapper gf x listener bf, they both misunderstand each other at times, and 12k words

summary ; accepting a blind date with your coworkers brother leads you to meeting one of your brothers friends. will you hit it off? or will your brother's overprotectiveness prevent you from being with each other?

melody's recommended melody ; hey blondie playlist

Feeling something bump you on the back of your head, you turn around quickly to be met with Akiteru’s gaze. Your eyebrows lifted in confusion while shrugging your shoulders. He points his finger downward at the paper he threw at you. Following his finger, you see the jumbled up piece of paper lying on the floor. Uncrumpling it with a huff to find Akiteru’s messy handwriting, “Blind date with my brother tomorrow?”. You lift your eyes up to see him staring at you in anticipation, knowing that Akiteru has been trying to set you up with his brother since forever. Now normally, you would politely decline saying you wanted nothing to do with dating. However, seeing all of your friends introduce you to their newfound partners, you think you’ll take a chance on Akiteru’s brother.

Checking the box that says yes, crumpling the paper up, throwing it back to Akiteru. You find him slowly unfolding the paper with both eyes shut tightly. His uneasiness soon turned into celebration, feeling victorious that he finally got you to agree. Taking note of the time you see that it’s lunch time, gathering your things to head out only to be stopped. Akiteru hands you his brother's number, telling you to text him when you get the chance. You grab it curious on why Akiteru was so fixated on getting you together with his brother. Not thinking much of it, you stuff the paper in your pocket deciding to deal with the situation when you get back. As you start to get a quick bite you get a call from your brother, “What’s up Tadashi?”.

“Well if it isn’t my sister who finally answers my calls! Do you know how long I’ve been calling you for?”, you giggle at your brother's frantic tone. “Sorry Yams, I was busy with work but what’re you calling for?”, you hear a sigh from your brother. “I know this is when you take lunch. I'm near your work and want to meet up at that new cafe?”, open the door to said new cafe. “I’m already here, so hurry up. Since you’re so deprived of Vitamin me.” Yamaguchi goes quiet, hearing only the mutter of city life behind him. “Sorry.”, Yamaguchi laughs. “Yeah, you should be. See you in five!”, hanging up the call to order for your brother and you.

Sitting down after retrieving your order to only hear the little bell on the door jingling, looking up to be met with a green head of hair. “Took you long enough, Tadashi. You took so long that my lunch break is over.” Yamaguchi stares at you wide eyed, as you start grabbing your things pausing halfway. “Oh man Yams, you should see your face! I’m joking, sit down before my lunch is actually over. I have like a whole hour for lunch, don’t worry about it.”, Yamaguchi sits down pouting, upset that you made him look like a fool. “So big brother, anything new and interesting with you?”, you look up at him while sipping your coffee, almost burning your lip. “I told you to stop drinking things that are so hot! You’re going to burn your taste buds!”, he grabs the cup from you, placing it down. “Nothing is new, Yachi and I went to go watch our friend play volleyball yesterday. Oh! I fixed the copier today, so that’s new today, I guess.”, you giggle. Wiggling your eyebrows, “Yachi, huh? Who’s that, a new girlfriend?”. Yamaguchi chokes on his drink, furiously waving his hands around, “No! No! We’re just friends! I swear!”.

“What about you, huh? Anything new sis?”, you hesitate about telling him that your coworker is setting you up on a fake date. “Well, not really but you know my friend, Hana, she got married last week. Oh, and Sayuri got a new girlfriend! So, yeah I think your copier story has got me beat this time.”, you look blankly at the pastry you picked up. Yamaguchi looks at you pitifully, thinking of someone who he could set you up with. Yet, it didn’t help that he only had a handful of friends plus they were all off limits. None of them were good enough for you, not even Tsukki. You’ve never even met them before so it’s not like he can just randomly tell all his friends, hey did you know I have a sister! Shaking off the thought, “Well, love comes when you least expect it right?”, you nod knowing you were in no rush.

Yamaguchi’s phone rings, he holds it up before excusing himself to go outside. Staring at him through the glass to find him red-faced. Taken back, you try to read his lips only to make out the words, no way and no you can’t come. You laugh at your brother refusing someone until you see him deflate, knowing that whatever goofy tactics he did ended up failing. Dragging his feet all the way back into the cafe, “What was it? Did the great copier break again?”. “No, it was my friend. He said he wanted to join us, even though I told him no.”, you laugh knowing your brother has always been a pushover. “Well, is it so bad that your sister finally meets your friends?”, your brother nods. “Yes, it is bad. They’re boys, I don’t trust them. You can meet Yachi and that’s it everyone else is off limits!” Yamaguchi crosses his hands making an X.

“What are you even saying?”, you look up to find a stranger with tousled blonde hair and half rimmed glasses. Yamaguchi freezes, slowly lifting his gaze up to the stranger. “Is this why you didn’t want me to come? You were meeting someone?”, you freeze but not out of fear. “I’m Yamaguchi’s sister, nice to meet you!”, the stranger stares at you before sending you a soft wave, his face puzzled. “Well look at the time. Tadashi, it was nice seeing you but I got to go! Let’s meet up soon, okay.”, you get up quickly, worrying you won't make it to work on time. Tsukishima looks to where you were sitting before looking at Yamaguchi, “Spill.”.

Yamaguchi lets out a deep exhale, “Ok, yes I do have a sister. Regardless, she’s off limits so don’t even think about it Tsukki!”. Tsukishima rolls his eyes at Yamaguchi’s refusal. Of course he thought you were… aesthetically pleasing to look at. Yet, Tsukishima still respects Yamaguchi and decides to not protrude where he’s not welcomed, it’s not like he’ll actively seek you out anyway. He’s sure if he did Yamaguchi would reject every time he tried. Going about their day, the pair stay in that quaint cafe. Tsukishima pretending he didn’t just meet you for the sake of Yamaguchi. While you quickly walk your way to work trying to forget the handsome stranger's face.

Heading into work, settling back into the flow as you suddenly get interrupted, “Have you texted him yet?”. You turn around watching Akiteru question you, “No, I'm sorry I went to lunch with my brother but you know what I’ll text him after my shift.”. As Akiteru starts walking away you remember what you wanted to ask him, “Hey Aki, can I ask you why you’ve been wanting to set me up with your brother?”. He turns around placing his hand on the back of his neck, “My brother is kind of…reserved. He doesn’t really go for things. Seeing your personality, I figured that maybe you can take him out of his shell a bit.”, you think about his answer and debate if you could be with someone the opposite of your outgoing nature.

Well, you never know unless you try! You smile at him, thanking him for being honest and saying you look forward to meeting his brother. You grab the piece of paper from out of your pocket, inputting it into your contacts before sending out a quick message. “Hello, Is this Akiteru’s brother? He told me to contact you regarding our date, are you available tomorrow night? (‘•.•’)?” Putting your phone away to continue your work day, feeling confident as to what’ll come out of this date.

Back at the cafe, Tsukishima’s phone vibrates on the table interrupting Yamaguchi mid conversation. Tsukishima glances down looking at the notification being from an unknown number, picking it up seeing your text. “Who is it, Tsukki?”, he quickly replies, placing down the phone. “Nothing, my brother set me up on a blind date with his coworker.”, Yamaguchi perks up excited to see Tsukki show some initiative on his love life. “What? You? You agreed to a blind date with someone your brother picked for you?” Yamaguchi chuckles a bit at Tsukki’s abnormal behavior. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

Just as quickly as the day started, it ended. Beginning to pack up your things to leave so you could make the train. Walking to the station looking down at your phone to see a response from Akiteru’s brother. Not paying attention you bump into someone, “Oh, I’m so sorry!”. Looking up to find the stranger at the cafe, your brother’s friend. “Just be sure to watch where you’re going. I don’t think Yamaguchi would want you hurt taking the train.”, you freeze at his monotone voice. You see him heading the same way as you, not wanting to think you’re following him you decide to lurk steps behind him.

As you see him taking the same local train you were, dammit! Hoping on looking for a spot anywhere but near him. Glancing around to find none, deciding to stand holding onto the bar above. Pulling out your phone glancing at the text Akiteru’s brother left, “I’m available. Did you have a place in mind? Call me Kei, my brother talks very highly of you so no need to be formal.”, you feel hopeful especially since he sounds so nice over text. “Let’s do hotpot! The weather is getting slightly chillier, it’s the perfect season for it! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)”, sending it excited for tomorrow. Tsukishima faintly chuckles at your joyful response, agreeing that the weather was getting slightly chillier enough to enjoy hot food.

Looking over at the stranger you met earlier today to see him zoned into whatever was on his phone, the train comes to a stop. He looks up catching you staring at him, you wave. He looks around to make sure you’re waving at him. You knew your stop was next, deciding to overcome your nervousness you sat next to him. “Hey, I’m Yamaguchi’s sister! I know I left abruptly earlier, sorry about that. You’re Yamaguchi’s friend, right?”, Tsukki blankly looks at you taken aback by how friendly you are. “Yeah, I’m Yamaguchi’s longtime best friend. My name is Tsukishima by the way.”, you repeat his name to make sure to keep it stored. “Well Tsukishima, it’s really late what’re you doing out so late at night?”, you cock your head to the side, curious. “I could ask you the same thing.”, he raises an eyebrow in your direction. You pout, “Well don’t tell Yams but I usually leave work this late. Now, your turn.”. “I practiced a little too late, I wanted to practice on my jump float serve.”, you quirk up knowing that that was Yams signature move in high school.

Before being able to respond you feel the train come to a stop, looking to see your stop was already coming up. “Man, I was looking forward to talking to you more. Maybe get some dirt on Yams but it seems like the universe has a different plan, my stops approaching. It was nice talking to you Tsukishima!” You get up and wave goodbye seeing him wave back this time. Tsukishima realizes he never got your name, doubting Yamaguchi would give it to him. He feels a bit exhausted after that conversation, you were the embodiment of energy. It kind of creeped him out, you were like a combination of Yamaguchi and Hinata. Pulling back out his phone to respond to his blind date, “Hotpot sounds good, send me the address and I’ll meet you there tomorrow at 7:30.”

Getting ready to leave, you make sure to stop by Akiteru’s cubicle, letting him know to give you good luck. He sends you off with two thumbs up, telling you not to worry and if Kei does anything let him know so he can reprimand him. Walking to the station you look at your phone texting Kei that he is still able to make the date to which he responds with a simple yes and see you soon. Getting onto the train, you see Tsukishima sitting down already. “Is this seat taken Tsukishima?”, you smile at him. He looks up to you shaking his head allowing you to sit down, “You know I didn’t get your name. All I know is that you’re Yamaguchi’s sister.”. Sitting up you realize you never told him your name, urgently telling him and apologizing for your manners. “What brought you on the train this early today?”, you giggle as Tsukishima calmly manners your conversation from yesterday. “I have a blind date actually, I didn’t want to tell Yams yesterday because he gets all overprotective.”, Tsukishima pauses.

Suddenly everything goes in slow motion. Were you Akiteru’s coworker? No way that’s bizarre, maybe you have a different blind date? You look over to Tsukishima seeing him stare into oblivion, poking his shoulder. “Earth to Tsukki-”, “Do you know Akiteru?”, you laugh. “Yeah I do, he's my coworker actually, why?” Tsukishima pauses, staring at you deeply waiting for it to click in your mind. You stare at him oblivious, before it suddenly dawns on you why he would know Akiteru and how he suddenly had the same facial features as him. Laughing to fill the awkward silence from Tsukishima, “Who could’ve guessed? I mean I should’ve, you resemble Akiteru! Whew, I feel relieved. I’m not going on a date with a complete stranger.”

Tsukishima panics mentally, Yamaguchi said you were off limits. Should he say now that you guys can’t be anything but friends? Can he even be friends with you? How should he go about this? “Don’t overthink so much Tsukishima! My brother won’t care, let’s just enjoy our hangout together!” hearing you take off the label of a date eases him a bit. Deciding to just stop the overthinking mess in his head to enjoy this hangout with you, a hangout that’s all it was. “It’s not like we have to tell my brother anyway. He keeps Yachi and him a secret anyway.”, Tsukishima looks over at you surprised. “He says Yachi doesn’t like him but they both attend all my games together. If someone as oblivious as you can figure that out then I feel bad for Yachi.”, you look at him offended.

“I’m not oblivious! I just use my brain only for work. Anything after that doesn’t need much thought.”, Tsukishima grimaces at that. “Any improvements on your jump float serve?” Tsukishima is surprised your brain remembered that small detail. “No actually, now I see why Yamaguchi practiced religiously. It’s like just when I’m about to do it, I hit it and instead serve regularly.”, you place your elbow on your stomach thinking back to Yams practicing. Remembering how relentlessly he trained to hit that complicated serve. “Well knowing how hard Yams worked in high school he was like on level twenty.”, Tsukishima questions what you’re about to say next. “Whereas you’re like level five, don’t get so down on yourself. It’s not like you suck at volleyball, take your time.”, he’s shocked how realistic you are while also being so aloof.

“If you were paying attention, mister, I'm so oblivious. Then you would know our stop is next, see I pay attention. Come on, let's get our things together.”, you smile, grabbing Tsukishima’s hand. He falters, shy by the sudden physical touch. You look back, seeing him nervous before pulling back your hand. “Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve asked before grabbing your hand.” Tsukishima brushes off saying it’s fine as he clasps his hands together. Following your lead to the hotpot place, Tsukishima learns you only allow yourself a hotpot twice a year. You tell him he should feel lucky that you’re sharing this rare experience with him to which Tsukishima side eyes you.

Entering the hotpot restaurant you say hello to the owner who welcomes you and Tsukishima kindly. Tsukishima likes how friendly you are, it allows him to sit back and observe. He prefers not talking too much instead enjoying the rare opportunity to be silent. However, you snap him back into reality as you let him choose what broth he wants to go into the hotpot. After picking an equal amount of veggies before heading to sit down at the table. After settling in, Tsukishima starts cooking the meat, adding that he doesn’t really have a big appetite. You wave him off saying it’s fine, “Let’s get to the good part Tsukishima. Have any good dirt on Yamaguchi?”

Tsukishima looks up at you to see you grinning evilly with your chopsticks in hand placing the veggies in the broth. He really thinks to himself if he did have dirt on Yamaguchi only thinking of one story. “Yamaguchi drunkenly admitted one time that he had a crush on Akiteru.”, you blink before belly laughing. “Oh my gosh, is that why he never let me hangout with you? Maybe we should try getting them together! Oh but he likes Yachi now.” you deeply think how to redeem Yams love life. Tsukishima playfully rolls his eyes, “What about you? Why did Yamaguchi keep you a secret for so long huh?”, you look at him surprised that he was so blunt. “Well, Yams told me it’s because he didn't want any of you making a pass at me. You know the overprotective type but I guess time has a different plan, huh?”

Tsukishima fiddles with his fingers after plating all the beef, knowing he was thinking so much you lift up a baby corn. “These are my favorite, the veggies have been cooking for a while so they should be perfect! Here try.”, Tsukishima closes in, taking your offer and trying the baby corn off of your chopsticks. He agrees that the veggies are done and cooked to perfection, lifting up a thumbs up. You visibly light up at Tsukishima’s agreement to which he smiles just a bit. Even though you and Yamaguchi don’t really look alike, he sees it in the mannerisms you share. Both liking affirmations that you’re doing something right, opening up to people more when you feel comfortable with them, and both sharing the same smile.

Tsukishima leans over to grab more vegetables and broth, just because he wants to see you smile again he praises you for the tasty broth you picked saying he was suddenly feeling really hungry. Not much to his surprise you light up and Tsukishima feels satisfied, when he gets home he’ll have to thank Akiteru for making him go on this date after all. You lift up the broth with your ladle, Tsukishima stops you. “That’s way too hot. You’re going to burn yourself.”, you look at him puzzled. “How do you know that?”, Tsukishima questions if you’re just oblivious or if you have poor eyesight. “The steam coming out of it? Let it cool down first.”, you listen, looking at him as he nods. Lifting it again only to realize he was right, the temperature allowed you to really take in the flavor. That bastard!

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction you changed the conversation. “I know you play volleyball but what’s your position?”, Tsukishima glances at you. “Middle blocker, I essentially just block the ball. Not very flashy, I know.” You stop him, “What that’s awesome! That’s why you’re super tall, it gives you the advantage! Plus, I would watch all the rallies with Yams. Men's Volleyball players spike that ball hardcore, meaning you would have to keep a really steady arm.” you stop yourself realizing your rambling. “It might not be flashy but you’re a part of the team so it’s important.”, Tsukishima agrees. Happy that you made his insecurity into something positive.

That night, you and Tsukishima continue to talk about various things from your siblings, your past school life, and your jobs. This is where you find out Tsukishima actually works near you at the Sendai museum. You hype up his job even more than you did him being a pro volleyball player. Tsukishima didn’t talk often, he gave the occasional nod and even some small input here and there but it never felt forced. He was actually paying attention to what you were saying, putting importance on every single word you were saying. Talking to him felt comforting even if he just stayed quiet, you liked someone who just listened to you talk about the random things in life.

After finishing up your hotpot, you bid a goodbye to the owner, thanking them for the delicious meal. They laugh saying to enjoy the rest of your night. You find Tsukishima glancing over at you holding your bag. You walk over to him, “So are you taking the same train as me again?”, Tsukishima nods. “I’m taking the same route as you. It would be rude of me to not walk you home. I can’t let my friend's sister walk home alone, it wouldn’t be safe.”, you accept his offer as he links your arms making sure not to get lost in the crowd. Making it to the train he offers you a seat, sitting down next to you, handing you your bag.

You didn’t know if it was the broth or the hard day at work but you were exhausted, glad that you ended the day with a new found friend. Feeling your phone vibrate you take it out to see a text from Tsukishima, he points to your phone when you look at him confused. The text read, Are you tired?. “Did you really save me on your phone as Kei?”, you nod. “You told me I could call you Kei, did you redact that statement?”, Tsukishima glances anywhere but at you. “No, you can call me Kei.” you laugh, you guess Yams isn’t the only pushover. You text him, I’m tired. (っ,-) My stop is next though so I’ll be fine! ദ്ദി(• ˕ •マ.ᐟ). “How do you come up with those things so fast?”, “If I teach you will you start sending them back?”. “No, no way.”

On the train ride you learned that Tsukishima isn’t really enthusiastic unless it’s about Volleyball, he never has a big appetite, and he loves music and dinosaurs. To which you added that your favorite dinosaur is a Pterodactyl due to always wanting to fly instead of being tall. Tsukishima sidney’s you thinking you made a dig at him, to which you start laughing. You tell him later to text you his playlist, wanting to hear his music taste but Tsukishima rejected saying he doesn’t just share that information with anyone. Approaching your apartment, you declare that you will get close enough one day that he’ll have no problem giving it to you.

“Well blondie, we’re here! Thanks for walking me, I mean you’re right who would mess with me when I have a six foot personal guard dog.”, Tsukishima huffs brushing off your comment. “When can we hang out again?”, Tsukishima is surprised you wanted to hangout again due to him being mostly silent this date. He didn’t think you would find him interesting enough, “I guess we could meet at the cafe tomorrow for lunch?”. He fiddles with his fingers, “Ok! I take lunch at one so make sure to meet me there. Don’t leave me waiting.” You walk off forgetting something, “Thank you Kei, I had a lot of fun.”, you walk up to your door waving to him before closing your door. He watches you close the door before calling Akiteru, “Hello, Kei. What’s up?”. Tsukishima takes a breathe, walking back to the station, “Thanks.”. “Thanks for what?”, Tsukishima hangs up not wanting to get gushy over the phone, opting to instead put on his headphones.

Walking to your office in the morning you expected Akiteru to question you. However you did not imagine that he would be sitting in your cubicle waiting for you. Akiteru hands you a cup of coffee as you settle into your workflow. “How was it?!”, you flash a smile towards him as Akiteru stares at you wide eyed. “It went well! Tell me about it!”, you think about telling him, debating whether or not you should. “We went to get some hotpot and we’re going to hangout today for lunch. That’s about it.”, Akiteru lights up, excited about the potential of your relationship.

“I don’t want to put a label on anything but I want to be friends first. So sorry Akiteru, you’re going to be playing the long game.” He deflates at your comment expecting a love at first sight story. Akiteru thanks you for your intel because he knows Kei would never tell him anything. You sip on the coffee Akiteru brought you almost instantly burning your tongue. Remembering last night where Tsukishima stopped you and Yams scolding you the day before. Placing down the coffee cup with a huff. Of course they were best friends, they both nagged at you like they were the same person. Thinking of Tsukishima, you pull out your phone to see if he ever texted you back last night about what cafe you guys were going to be at. “Did you forget already? The one we first met at, you need to pay more attention.” You huff, he even reprimands you while texting. Reacting to the text with a thumbs up, anticipating your lunch break.

Hours go by slowly as you spend every hour glancing at the clock. As soon as the clock strikes 12:00 you get up to head to lunch, telling Akiteru you were heading out. Walking to the cafe you feel your phone vibrate, “You’re late.”, you know that tone anywhere. “I’m actually on time, you’re earlier. It’s a five minute walk, just sit down and look pretty you’ll be fine.” you hang up on him, laughing at your remark. As you were putting your phone back in your pocket you feel it buzzing again. “Kei-“, “Kei? Who’re you talking too!”, you freeze, Yamaguchi called. “Keitru, Akiteru, sorry my coworker was bothering me.”, you hesitate wondering if he’ll believe your cover up.

“Whatever, want to meet up for lunch?”, you open the door to the cafe, Tsukishima waving you over. “Sorry Yams, I’m actually with my coworker eating lunch.”, Tsukishima glances up blankly, scared. “Oh that sucks, ok well maybe some other day then.” You exchange kick goodbyes, hanging up. “You should totally see your face, Kei. You're paler than you usually are, chill out. Let’s go order!” Tsukishima gets up as you both leave your belongings in the booth. Tsukishima orders first and you’re up next ordering something iced to which Tsukishima glances at you sideways. He pays again, even though he paid for a hotpot last time.

“Why’re you getting your coffee iced?”, you look at him questionably. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”, he chuckles knowing you were going to tell him anyway. “I burned my tongue on some coffee in the morning.”, now he laughs. You roll your eyes, of course the only time he laughs is at the sake of your misery. You go to retort but he suddenly gets a call, he doesn’t make the same mistake you do. Actually looking at the caller ID, flashing his phone to you which shows the screen that said Yamaguchi. Now it’s your turn to laugh as you watch him accept the call, paler than a ghost, “What is it Yamaguchi?”.

You hear a loud “Tsukki!” over the phone as Tsukishima backs up from his phone. You beg him to put it on speaker to which he mouths no. As you start pouting he rolls his eyes, switching to speaker. “Tsukki, do you want to go to lunch together?”, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “No Yamaguchi, I’m already at lunch with someone.”, you hear Yama gasp. “Tsukki you’re with someone else?”, Tsukishima agrees with Yama. “Well I can join! Who is it with?”, Tsukishima trips over his words. “I’m with my brother.”. Yamaguchi goes silent as you giggle silently, knowing the lore between Yamaguchi and Akiteru.

“Man, first my sister and now you too. Well, I’ll leave you to it Tsukki! Have fun!”, Tsukishima hangs up. Eyes zeroing on you, furiously. “I’m never doing that again.”, you laugh at how scared Tsukishima is of Yamaguchi. “Anyways Kei, how is your day going? Besides almost dying at my brother's phone call.”, you look at him taking a sip of your drink. “Well the museum got some new properties for the new exhibit opening up.”, you urge him to continue. “It’s nothing cool, just a couple of exoskeletons of prehistoric animals.”. “Tsukishima, you have to work with me here. Please, I bet working at a museum is awesome! It’s like Night at The Museum!”, Tsukishima lifts a brow. “No way, you’ve never seen Night at the Museum?”, he shakes his head as you realize what your next hangout is.

“Basically this guy works at a museum as a guard and everything in the museum comes to life. It’s awesome.”, Tsukishima huffs. “It’s not like that at all, at least what I do isn’t. However, I really doubt anything comes to life, sorry.”, you laugh rolling your eyes. “Then tell me mister my work is nothing cool, what is your job?”, he thinks for a minute really thinking of something that won’t sugarcoat his job. “I file the paperwork for all new objects, I do bidding offers on new items for upcoming exhibits, and I give little kids tours. Does that sound interesting?”, he takes a sip of his drink thinking he finally exceeded in making his job sound lame. “So let me get this straight, you do bidding wars, talk to adorable children almost every week, and get to over analyze pre historic objects?”, he nods. “That doesn’t sound lame at all, you fraud!”, he shakes his head, disagreeing with you.

Only you could find the right words to make his job sound more exciting than it is. “Man your job is so cool, what’s the oldest thing you’ve ever bid on?”, you light up. Every time Tsukishima talks to you, he realizes just how much you remind him of that pipsqueak Hinata, are you and Hinata secretly related instead of Yamaguchi? “Nothing too crazy, I recently won some 400 year old armor the other day. That should be coming in soon along with a couple of swords and stuff.” you let your mouth hang open in shock. “You’re telling me that you’ve held a real sword before and you don’t think that’s cool!?”

Tsukishima blushes, confused as to why you’re so convinced of making his job seem cooler than it was to him. “Kei, you’re so cool. You’re a pro-volleyball player who works at a museum? So not only are you athletic but you’re also super smart? I see why my brother hid you from me.”, Tsukishima chokes on his drink. You patted his back making sure he was okay. Tsukishima gave a thumbs up, looking down at his fingers. He’s received compliments before just not like this. Not compliments that felt like they’re permanently going to be etched in his mind. Or compliments that felt so heavy on his heart that he wanted to explode in embarrassment.

“Oh look at the time! I hope I didn’t keep you too long Kei! My work isn’t too far but I’m not sure how far your commute is?”, he waved his hand not wanting to concern you with that. “Bye bye Kei! We can hangout this weekend! Movie date at mine!”. You left Tsukishima to deal with all the glances of nosy people who overheard you. He picks up after him heading back to his work, texting you “If we’re both picking movies then we have to watch Jurassic Park.”. His eyes bulge out of his sockets, “Deal! I’ve actually never seen it before. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)”. You wait for Tsukishima’s reply, shocked when you look at your phone. “Lame.”

The weekend approached, texting with Tsukishima on and off about what you had planned to do on your date. He wasn’t really surprised when you didn’t end up telling him, chalking it up to it being a suprise. Tsukishima rolls his eyes at your response, heading out with his headphones and bag. Opening the door and locking up, “Hey Tsukki! Where are you headed to?”, he turns around seeing Yamaguchi and sighs, upset that he locked the door for nothing. “I’m going to my brothers for the day. I won’t be back till later so don’t wait up.”, Yamaguchi nods, unlocking the door and stepping in saying goodbye to Tsukki. Closing the door, Tsukishima lets out a breath, maybe he shouldn’t keep doing this. What’ll happen if Yamaguchi finds out, is keeping this a secret even worth it?

Tsukishima’s thoughts cloud over his head, he doesn’t even know how he ended up at your door. Lost in the music and his thoughts, he pulls out his phone double checking if he had the correct address. Knocking once he’s confirmed everything, you open the door, sparkles and all. While he wasn’t going to exaggerate saying all his thoughts just magically went away, being with you did lessen the weight on his shoulders. With you he wasn’t in his head all the time, more present in the moment. When you took in Tsukishima’s quietness you opened the door wider, “Don’t leave me hanging Kei, we have two movies to get through and some cake to make!”.

You know Tsukishima was abnormally quiet, you didn’t want to bother him though. Tsukishima didn’t seem like the person to open up so easily. So instead you choose to distract him, pulling him by his sleeve to your kitchen seeing all the ingredients displayed nicely. “We’re going to be making strawberry shortcake!”, Tsukishima looks over to you. “Did you ask Yamaguchi what my favorite dessert was?”, you blankly stare at him. “No way it’s my favorite dessert too! As if Yams would ever answer any of my questions about you. Plus, it’s super easy to make!”

“What Jurassic Park are we watching?” Tsukishima snaps out of his daze. “The very first one, it’s the only important one anyway.”, you whisk all the wet ingredients together missing the Tsukishima that was more vocal than usual at the cafe. Deciding to do what you do best, fill the silence for the both of you. “I wouldn’t take you as someone who likes something as sweet as Strawberry Shortcake.”, Tsukishima laughs. “I may not be the cheeriest person but that doesn’t mean I lack taste.”, you chuckle looking over to Tsukishima. Starting to see things you haven’t seen before like how he has the faintest smile lines or how he has a scar in between his fingers, most likely from volleyball. These details don’t really stand out to you but once you start looking at Tsukishima as more than just your brother’s Pro-Volleyball player friend, you’ll see that maybe there's more to him than you think.

“Can I ask what you like about strawberry shortcake?”, you say with a soft tone. Tsukishima looks at you, fully taking in your expression before answering. Curious if you were actually asking what he likes about the strawberry shortcake or what he likes about you. Yet you showed no change in your emotion, he debates whether or not to be blunt and define what you're asking. Not willing to put his pride aside, he decides to find common aspects in you and strawberry shortcake. “It’s very vibrant and pretty. It’s not overly sweet, more like sweet in a refreshing way. Every time I take a bite it’s like being at ease, nothing else but me and the shortcake.”, you turn around confused. “Are you attracted to the shortcake Kei? Why are you so detailed?”, Tsukishima’s speechless and embarrassed. You really were just talking about the shortcake. “I was expecting, it’s so yummy or I love strawberries! However, I think you might be in love with strawberry shortcake, maybe you should marry it.”, you pat him on the back then place the cakes in the oven.

Tsukishima fills the awkward silence with what he knows best, music. Playing his monthly playlist, you turn around quickly lighting up at the music playing. You look at Tsukishima but he hastily looks away, feeling very vulnerable at this moment. Your heart pumps in joy, knowing that Tsukishima trusts you enough to share something he loves with you. “Is this ADOY?”, Tsukishima glances down at his fingers, nodding. “You’re right, you’re a man with taste.”, you playfully wink at him. “I saw them live last year, they were so cool! This song is my favorite!”, you reach out your hand in Tsukishima’s direction while singing along. He looks up, shaking his head, accepting defeat and retracting your hand. Feeling that Tsukishima might not be the dancing type. Until Tsukishima reaches for your hand as it almost completely retreats, linking it together with his. You both swayed back and forth, spinning until you felt dizzy as the cake scent filled the room. Laughing when you had to go on your tiptoes to reach your arm over him. At this moment, his thoughts were now completely gone.

As the music stops, you hear your timer beeping. You slowly pull away your hand with a smile, cautious not to cause any misunderstandings. “Oh Kei, you have to come look at this. It’s beautiful!”, Kei looks at the cake not understanding what you’re seeing. Nodding anyway, you put the cake away to chill as you grab some snacks so you can watch Jurassic Park while the cakes chill. “Kei if this movie sucks, you’re so taking me to hotpot again.”, Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “If it sucks it's because you’re uncultured, not because of me.”, you smile happy that he’s back to normal.

“You’re telling me this all happens because some jerk turns off the power in the park?”, Tsukishima nods. “Ok, but who’s smart idea was it to be like “Hey, let’s replicate dinosaurs!”? They’re extinct for a reason!”, Tsukishima questions your opinions. “At least the T-Rex saved them at the last minute. Not all dinosaurs were bad.”, you agree with Tsukishima. “That is until the new ones where they do the exact same thing again!”, Tsukishima chuckles, shaking his head. “No, the Chris Pratt one’s don’t exist, forget those from your brain altogether.”, you laugh. “Well at least my movie won’t scare the crap out of you but first, let’s frost that cake!” you grab Tsukishima’s hand, dragging him to the kitchen.

Grabbing the piping bag and handing it to him, Tsukishima looks at you questionably. “You can’t pipe frosting dino boy?”, his face falls. “Here let me show you, since you’re so clueless without me.”, you press down on the piping bag. Really concentrating on how to delicately place the frosting, Tsukishima watches you. Really glancing at your concentrated face more than your piping technique. “See it’s easy, even though it looks kind of crooked that doesn’t matter.”, you look up to see Tsukishima grinning. You’re taken aback, having never really seen Tsukishima smile before, curious what’s got him smiling. “You must really like strawberry shortcake, if it makes you smile that much.” He shakes his head, scoffing. Tsukishima couldn’t love something, that’s lame.

He picks the piping bag from you copying exactly what you were doing, he backs up noticing that his piping was off. He looks back to see if you were watching, disappointed to see you snickering. Going behind him to help him, “You’re putting too much pressure Kei! Here, softly and pick up, see!”. He feels your hands encapsulate his, your hold firm but yet so gentle as if putting too much pressure would mess up the cake. Blushing at your frame behind him, you slowly let go letting him handle the rest of the frosting. “There you go Kei! You’re the best!”, you flash him a thumbs up, he scoffs in return but you see the blush lightly decorating his face. You smile going off to fetch the strawberries that he cut. Placing them down on the cake while Tsukishima frosts. Grabbing some frosting and placing it on Tsukishima’s nose, he eyes his nose in disbelief, grabbing it and spreading it back onto your cheek. You laugh going to your sink to wash your face, grabbing a knife and some plates.

“Are you ready for the best strawberry shortcake you’ve ever had?”, Tsukishima lifts a brow. “You did hear me when I said this is my favorite dessert right? Meaning I get this often.”, you nod still stubbornly confident. “Meaning I’ve eaten this many times and am a very harsh critic.”, you close your eyes smirking. “Tsukishima, you underestimate my baking abilities. My brother says I have the best shortcake recipe ever.”, he stays quiet. “Your brother's favorite food is soggy fries, I don’t think I trust his opinion.”, your shoulders fall. Cutting a piece and handing it to Tsukishima, feeling defeat in talking up your baking abilities. He takes a bite and falls silent but you notice this small sparkle in his eyes, “I made you eat crow! Tell me Tsukishima, it’s the best! Come on, tell me.”, you wag your finger waiting for his compliments.

Tsukishima avoids eye contact, “It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be, I’ve had better.”. You lean closer to him, “I’ll accept your feedback but you have to look me in my eyes and say it.”. Tsukishima’s voice falters as he tries to look you in the eye, he notices your eyes zeroed in on him, wanting to prove him wrong. “It’s ok, I’ve had better.”, you laugh calling his bluff. “Well since it’s so bad, I’ll let you take the leftovers home. Any objections?” Tsukishima stays silent, no rebuttal. “That’s what I thought blondie, come on take your cake and let’s watch the superior movie.”

“That is nothing like working at my job. Maybe if I was more delusional and romanticize everything like you do it would feel like that but no, not even remotely close.”, . “I know that this is not what your job is like, duh, it’s a kids movie. But you have to admit it was more entertaining than Jurassic Park.”, Tsukishima shakes his head. You huff, Tsukishima sure was prideful never admitting you were right. “You know if you don’t say i’m wrong then you’re saying i’m right.”, you smirk getting close to him.

Tsukishima laughs, “I aspire to be as wrong and delusional as you one day.”. You stutter back, before getting really close to his face, “At least I can admit when I'm wrong blondie.”, you smirk. Tsukishima’s jaw clenched, his voice lowers as he moves more into your personal space only a couple of inches separating you two. “Are you saying I’m stubborn?”, you smile, knowing he’s playing right into your game. Whispering in a sarcastic tone, “Well look at the state of you, not wanting to admit that I’m right. What would you call yourself Kei?”. You inch closer to him, he stares at your lips, “Tenacious, I would say I’m tenacious.”. You chuckle, holding eye contact with him, not wanting to let him win in making you feel timid.

Kei looks at you then down at your lips, you start to tilt your head. Waiting for Kei to lean in, giving you the green light to continue. He leans in slowly, you start to anticipate feeling his lips on yours. Wondering how he would kiss you, would he kiss you softly? Just as you start leaning in you back away, interrupted by Tsukishima’s phone ringing. You feel yourself deflate, laughing. Of course, the universe was against you. Tsukishima pulls away, groaning as he picks up the call. “What do you want Kogane?”, his voice very sharp and his hands rubbing his brows. “Yes Kogane, I know practice is tomorrow, what about it?”, he now answers very calmly and sarcastically.

Tsukishima looks over to you before quickly fleeting his gaze somewhere else as if he didn’t just try to kiss you. “No way. I’m not going to put it on speaker Kogane.”, he rolls his eyes. “I should’ve never shared my location with you. Fine, I’ll ask her. Don’t call me back.”, you laugh wondering what he was going to ask you. He hangs up, suddenly standing up right, “Want to come to my practice tomorrow?”. Tsukishima watches as your eyes sparkle, happy that he asked you. “Of course! It’s going to be so sweet! I can see your block and you can show me that new serve you’ve been working on!”

Tsukishima gets up after looking at the time, cursing himself for losing track of time. Grabbing his tote bag, “Don’t get your hopes up, I haven’t fully aced it yet.”. You get up going to the fridge, handing him the cake you packed for him. “With me there I think you’ll kill it!”, you wink and open the door. “Be safe Kei! I can’t wait to see you at practice tomorrow!”. Tsukishima watches as you close the door feeling nervous that you’re going to watch him practice. He puts on his headphones listening to the song you were dancing to earlier, smiling. Heading home and text you on the bus where his practice is and a playlist of his. “We’re officially best friends! The famous Tsukishima Kei sent me his playlist! (ó﹏ò｡)”, he locks his phone. Rolling his eyes and smiling at your dorky response.

Arriving home, he hears Yamaguchi still awake. As he places his things on the table, trying to make space in the refrigerator. “You’re finally home Tsukki. Oh? What’s that big container?”, Tsukishima glances back at him. “Shortcake.”. Yamaguchi jolts up, voice raising, “Can I have some Tsukki?”. Tsukishima nods, “Get some before I put it away.”, Yamaguchi scrambles to find a plate and utensils. “This is so good Tsukki, it reminds me of my sister's shortcake! She makes it the best!”, Tsukishima tenses up. “Whatever Yamaguchi, I’m going to go to my room.”, he places it back in the fridge. Quickly retreating to his room to ignore any further questions or comments. He reflects on the day he had with you, anticipating tomorrow as he listens to the same song on repeat.

Walking to the gymnasium Tsukishima sent you, humming while feeling your heart bump out of your chest in excitement. You were never really allowed at Yamaguchi’s games due to your presence making him more nervous. Reaching the gym, walking in to look around, bumping into a stranger, immediately apologizing. He turns around as you look up to him, noticing he kind of looks like a mix of the Pokémon, Dodrio and Farfetch’d. “Sorry miss but interviewers aren’t allowed in here.”, you clear your throat. “Sorry, I just came from work but I’m with Tsukishima, he invited me to watch his practice.”, you scold yourself for coming straight from work. The man perks up in excitement, “You're her!”. You slightly start to shake your head, “Yeah, I’m her? All good things said, I hope.”, the stranger laughs before extending his hand out to you. “I’m Koganegawa, Tsukishima’s teammate.”, you reach out shaking his hand. “You’ve heard about me?”, your chest tightens. Feeling surprised that Tsukishima talks about you since he seemed like the type to keep his personal life quiet. “Oh, we had to drag it out of Tsukishima that he is seeing someone.”, your heart speeds up.

Were you seeing Tsukishima, is that how he described it? You hadn’t thought about it that way, everytime you were going on these dates, you just felt so comfortable that it didn’t even feel like a date. Usually when you went on dates you felt uncomfortable and uneasy but with Tsukishima it felt simple. Shaking your head, paying attention to what Koganegawa is saying. “He was showing up to practice less uptight and leaving practice earlier than usual. When we asked he turned all flushed, we knew something was up.”, he leaned in whispering. “He must really like you if he wanted to keep you a secret that bad.”. You force down your foolish grin, opting to laugh instead, Koganegawa starts laughing with you, finding you and Tsukishima’s relationship adorable. “Ok, Kogane, that’s enough. We’re scrimmaging in ten, get ready.”, you tilt over Koganegawa’s silhouette to see Tsukishima walking over to you. He suddenly stands taller than before, as if he's trying to one-up Koganegawa.

He comes up to you, placing a hand on your back, your eyes widen in surprise. Is this really the Tsukishima who was awkward when you grabbed his hand? Looking up at Tsukishima, who shows no change in his face yet his body language says everything you need to hear. “I’ll show you to the bleachers, Kogane tell Kyotani I’ll be there soon.”, Koganegawa nods, bidding you both goodbye. You laugh taking Tsukishima’s hand off your back, “Jealous much, Sulkyshima?”. Tsukishima turns away, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”. Following him to the bleachers, “Whatever you say Tenacious Kei.”, wiggling your brows at him. Tsukishima suddenly regrets ever asking you here, especially if you were just going to poke him while he’s down.

Reaching the bleachers you glance down amazed, seeing all of his teammates getting ready for the practice match. Tsukishima fiddles with his hands, “Best seats in the house for my supposed “Good Luck charm”.”. You glance back grinning ear to ear, “Do well Tsukishima!”. Everyone from below you looks up to see Tsukishima ears turning the deepest shade of red. He nods, heading down knowing that his teammates were going to be picking on him as soon as he gets down.

“Do well Tsukishima!”, Kyotani fakes an obnoxious female voice. Tsukishima stops before facing him, “Who’s cheering for you Kyotani?”, he says smirking. Kyotani quiets down, retreating back to his position. Tsukishima looks up at you in the bleachers, watching you admire the whole gymnasium and the decorations that adorn it. Catching him look at you, sending him double peace signs and smiling. He feels his brain short circuit, sending you a discrete peace sign back not wanting to get any further attention. He hears a whistle blow, his brain instantly focuses on the game ahead of him wanting to put on a good show for you.

You watch as Tsukishima shuts down a couple of blocks, some he deflects to bounce off his hand. Scared to cheer but internally screaming for Tsukishima every time he helps score. A timeout gets called and you watch the teams gather together to rework their strategy. You see Tsukishima shocked with how tiny he looks compared to his other teammates. Even though he isn’t the tallest on his team, his shoulders were still pretty wide. You see why he’s a blocker now, you feel yourself start to get flushed. You smack your cheeks, giving yourself no time to get flustered instead focusing on the game below you.

You continue watching the game, excited that it’s now Tsukishima’s turn to serve. He looks at his hand then to you, you flash him a thumbs up with shiny eyes. Taking a deep breath before hitting it over, accomplishing a jump float serve for the first time. You celebrate because even though it’s picked up by the other team, he did it! You guess you really were his good luck charm. The ball gets passed back to Tsukishima again, watching him serve again but with more confidence than last time. In your head screaming one more point, watching as the ball floats over hitting the ground.

Celebrating as Tsukishima looks over to you as you mouth the phrase “good luck charm” and puff out your chest. Tsukishima covers the bottom of his face so you can’t see his small smile. He feels proud at this moment, winning for you, even if it’s just a scrimmage game. Although he wouldn’t admit that he won or prolonged the game just for you specifically, never. The coach calls the team together, congratulating the team who won before dismissing the team. You look at Tsukishima who waves you to come down. Excitedly jumping down the stairs, jumping into Tsukishima.

“That was awesome! You were like BAM! and BOOM! That serve was unlike anything I've ever seen! It looked regular but then it turned at the last minute! You’re awesome Tsukishima!”, Tsukishima backtracks. “Um, I’m not that great! I guess I was just having a good day today.”, you shake your head. Koganegawa and Kyotani appear behind you, clasping their hands together to mimic you and Kei’s stature. Tsukishima pulls away from you, “I can show you how to serve. Maybe not a jump float but something new for a beginner.”, grabbing Tsukishima’s arm quickly. “Let’s go!”

Tsukishima excuses himself to go get a clean ball for you as you see Koganegawa behind you. “Kogane! You were awesome in the scrimmage too! When you spiked the ball down it was so cool!”, Koganegawa laughs, feeling confident. “It’s called a setters dump. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. You can only do it every once in a while though!”, you feel your heart jump in excitement. Fascinated with the world that was volleyball. Tsukishima comes up behind you, tapping your shoulder. You turn to see Tsukishima guide you to the line. “The net looks so far away from here!”, you glance back at Tsukishima. “You got this!”, you hear Koganegawa cheer for you.

You send him a thumbs up feeling a little bit better now that you have an audience. Tsukishima rests his head near your head, placing the ball in your hand, fixing your arm. He slowly talks through the way to throw the ball and when you should hit it but you’re too focused on him being so close and feeling his heartbeat on your shoulder. He suddenly backs away, watching you from the sidelines now. You throw it up, hitting it over, only for it to hit the net. Sulking that you missed, Tsukishima laughs. “It’s your first time, you’d be naive to think you’d be able to hit it over instantly.”, you sneer at him. “Hey! Not naive, I was just optimistic!”, you square up to Tsukishima trying to copy his posture. Kyotani and Koganegawa walk up to you,

“Don’t worry he sulks when he misses too. I’m Kyotani.”, you wave, saying hi and introducing yourself back. “He’s so pessimistic, he needs someone who balances him out. Right Kogane?”, Kogane agrees with Kyotani, focusing on practicing his serves. “Shut up Kyotani. Come on, pass the ball.”, you look at Tsukishima questioning what he’ll do next. “You’re going to pass to me next, miss optimistic.”, smirking as he grabs a ball from Kyotani. You look him right in the eye, “Ok, you’re on. Don’t go easy on me either blondie.”.

“For someone who was so confident, you’re not the best.”, you pout. “I’m not a professional volleyball player, okay?”, Tsukishima notices you’ve both been practicing for a long time. Kyotani and Koganegawa both left, leaving you both in the gym alone. “Want to serve one last time, I’ll guide you through it.”, you nod. Wanting redemption for what was your last sucky serve, you can’t tarnish the Yamaguchi lineage. Tsukishima comes up behind you aligning his body with yours, softly grabbing your hand. Placing the ball in your hand, as he guides you to throwing it. Lifting both of your other hands up to hit it, watching it go over the met with additional strength from Tsukishima. You gasp, feeling victorious.

Looking behind to see Tsukishima smiling down at you. You freeze, feeling your hands become sweaty and your ears ringing. Without hesitation he softly grabs your face, you lean in tired of waiting for him to make the move. Feeling your lips meet, dancing against each other as sweetly as you both did in the kitchen. You smile into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck as he bends down a bit. Kissing as if it was second nature to both of you, feeling comfortable and vulnerable in this moment. The way Tsukishima always felt hanging out with you, vulnerable but yet so comforted in your presence. Not wanting to pull away but slowly losing your breath, you feel him pull away first, wanting to see your face. He looks at your kiss bitten lips, the flush slowly decorating your face and your eyes glossed over with happiness.

When you pull away all you see is reluctance, Tsukishima’s brows are furrowed, his posture is tight, and he can’t meet your eyes. “I have to close up the gym. You should walk home before it gets dark.”, you reach out to Tsukishima but he just pulls away, retreating quickly to the locker room. You stand there for a couple of minutes wondering if he’ll come out but he never does. You pick yourself up and walk home, wondering what happened in that millisecond of you kissing and backing away. Did he want to keep going, did he not want to kiss you, did you misread his actions? You spiral all the way home, texting him as soon as you get home. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong Kei?”

Tsukishima was still standing in the locker room when he got your text, he watched you leave the gym. He couldn’t help but think that this all got the best of him. He’s going behind his longest friend's back, kissing his little sister. What was he thinking? Yes, he believes you should date anyone you want by why him? Him out of everyone? He knew he messed up when your text had no personal touch to it, at first he thought he misread the ID. Hesitant to answer, scared of betraying Yamaguchi any further but also scared that he’ll hurt your feelings even more.

Yamaguchi was dear to him, Yamaguchi was the one to always snap him out of whatever mental issues he was going through, he shouldn’t pursue this further. He shouldn’t betray the only one who knows the best and worst of him. However, when he thought of you nothing even held a candle to you. Nothing was dearer than you, you supported him, comforted him, made all his faults sound positive. How could he just break your trust like that, he might have been an asshole in high school but he will not allow that to happen again. He won’t let you see that side of him, you don’t deserve it.

Feeling a vibration on your bed you look to your phone, seeing a notification pop up. “I’m fine, I just need to get something off my chest. Tomorrow, can we talk?”, you let out a sigh. Relieved that he even texted you back, “Sure but don’t scare me like that again Tsukishima! (•̀⤙•́ )”. He texts you his address, knowing that Yamaguchi won’t be home till later since he didn’t have a day off. You go to sleep feeling lighter than you did earlier. Curious as to what was going on in Tsukishima’s head. While Tsukishima was charting up all the possibilities to break his problems to you politely as he could.

Knocking on Tsukishima’s door, biting at your lips in nervousness. You watch him open the door as you take in his appearance. His hair is all out of order,, the bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever, and he’s still in his pajamas. Your heart crumbles at the sight, wanting to relieve him of whatever troubles he was having but scared to push him. He welcomes you in and you see Tadashi’s shoes and clothes misplaced everywhere. “Why do you have so much of Tadashi’s clothes?”, you side eye him. Was he cheating on your brother with you? Is that why he pulled away! Oh god this is why he pulled away! “Are you together with Tadashi?”, Tsukishima’s eyes widen looking over at you. “What? No! What are you even saying?”, you still remain stiff not believing him. “We’re just roommates. Did your brother not tell you that he lives with someone?”, you relax just a bit. Sure, they 're just “roommates”, they’re always just roommates. “Show me his room then if you’re just “roommates” then.”. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, walking you to his room, where you walk in and see no signs of your existence, did he really want to hide you that badly.

Tsukishima sees your eyes start watering, following your eyes to see you glancing at all the pictures above his desk. None featuring you or your family, you make a mental note to ask him about that later and reprimand him in the future. Turning to Tsukishima, “Okay, I believe you for now. Next, tell me what’s on your mind because you look awful.”, paying back to him his blunt comments. “I’d prefer we don’t speak in Tadashi’s room. Seems a bit odd.”, you look around nodding. Not wanting to think about your brother at this moment, following Tsukishima to his room. Sitting next to him on his bed while he gathers all the words he rehearsed all night, fiddling with his fingers. You watch as he trips over his words the first couple of times and decide to comfort him. “Tsukishima, you won’t hurt my feelings no matter what you say. You’re my friend no matter what, I’ll harbor no hard feelings. I just want you to be truthful with me, okay?”, you see him nod.

Giving him the confidence to start living outside his mind and speak up, “I don’t regret kissing you yesterday. I regret what’s going to happen after though.”, you look at him intensely. Waiting for him to finish, knowing he’s done with his talk when he stops playing with his fingers. “I thought about it and I like you as more than a friend, I like being with you. However, when we first met Tadashi told me not to go anywhere near you, something about you being off limits.”, you feel your eye twitch. Your brother proclaimed you were off limits while he hid you like the plague. If Tsukishima wasn’t being so vulnerable right now you would’ve raced to him and scolded him. Opting to instead take a deep breath and hold all your comments for the last minute. “I’m nervous that if I get with you, I’ll be giving up my friendship with Yamaguchi.”, he stops playing with his fingers, giving you the okay to talk.

“I appreciate you being so considerate of my brother’s opinion but I’m my own person. Tadashi doesn’t own me, he can’t decide who I like and don’t. I like you too, Kei. I understand though if you don’t want to go through with this relationship if you’re sacrificing a piece of you. I’ve waited for this long, I can wait longer for someone as perfect as you Kei.”, you kiss his cheek getting up for his bed. “Let me know when you’re ready, Kei.”, you start walking to the entrance looking back at him. He nods, glad you’re giving him time to thoroughly think his decision through. He hears the door click, still feeling your lips on his cheek. He goes to lock the door and sit on the couch in silence, letting the clock pass by. Waiting for Yamaguchi to come home, as he contemplates every possible decision in his head. The good outcomes, the bad outcomes, and even the extreme ones, letting them all occupy every corner of his brain.

He hears the door click, “Tsukki, I’m home!”. Yamaguchi turns on the light, jolting when he sees Tsukishima on the couch. “What are you doing? Is this how you spend your days off?”, Tsukishima slowly looks up to where Yamaguchi is. Instead of being overtaken by nerves instead tired, tired of waiting, tired of hiding, and tired of not having you by him. “I like your sister.”, Yamaguchi laughs, waving off Tsukishima’s absurd comment. “Tsukki, did you not sleep today? You met my sister for a second a couple of months ago?”, Tsukishima gets up. Walking to Yamaguchi slowly, “Your sister and I have been seeing each other for those couple of months, secretly going on dates.”. Yamaguchi looks around before meeting Tsukishima’s eyes, “Tsukki, are you sure you're okay? My sister hasn’t mentioned you once?”.

Tsukishima nods, “I wanted to keep it a secret knowing that you said she was off limits. I came to terms the other day that I liked her, I don’t want to hide it anymore.”. Yamaguchi brows furrow because suddenly it all makes sense, from Tsukki staying out late to you ignoring his lunch dates, and the final straw the shortcake. Yamaguchi fastly paces to his bag, grabbing his phone and dialing your number. “Hello Tadashi, What’s up?”, Yamaguchi hands the phone to Tsukishima angrily. “I told him.”, you freeze hearing Kei’s voice over the phone. “Is it true? No, scratch that, why hide it from me?”, you scoff. “The same reason you hid me from your friends, Tadashi. Look, I’m at a cafe near your apartment, I’ll head over right now. Tadashi don’t do anything stupid, please.”, you hang up.

To be honest, Yamaguchi wasn’t upset at the fact you both liked each other more at the fact you both hid everything from him, did everything behind his back. Yamaguchi sits on the couch angrily tapping his feet, awaiting you to arrive. He hears a knock on his door, watching Tsukishima open the door. You smile at Tsukishima, knowing it must’ve taken a lot out of him to tell your brother. “Get in here, now.”, your brother ruins the moment as per usual. Not letting him take hold of the conversation in anger, “Stop, first I want you to calm down.”, Yamaguchi looks over at you frustratedly. “Calm down, you're seeing my best friend and hiding it from me!”, you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to go out with Tsukishima on purpose, okay? My co-worker is Akiteru, when I accepted the date I didn't know they were brothers. It was just a simple fortunate event!”. Tsukishima sees you rambling but he’s never seen you rambling quite like this, this rambling is more like the nervous kind.

Yamaguchi suddenly points at him, snapping him out of his analysis of your unseen behavior. “Speaking of Akiteru, you! You don’t see me sneaking off with your brother! Don’t you hold any form of shame?”, Tsukishima clears his throat. “I wouldn’t mind if you got with my brother because that would be my brother’s decision not mine.”, Tsukishima glances back at you. You feel your breath ease, knowing exactly what Tsukishima is hinting at. “He’s right, it’s my decision. I like Tsukishima and I want you to support me and him, together.”, Yamaguchi glares at you, reluctant to let you and Tsukki get off so easily. “You’re right, I shouldn't hold a grudge against you, you’re a grown woman. You, however, Tsukki apologize to me. This is not very best friend-like behavior.”, you scoff at Tadashi's childish behavior. “Tadashi, stop it.”, you wave away Tadashi knowing he’s just grasping at straws.

“I’m sorry Yamaguchi.”, you and Yams both look at each other than look at Tsukishima, frozen. “You’re right I should’ve told you. I was scared to lose you as a friend.”, Tadashi trips over his words before you stop him knowing Tsukishima wasn’t done talking yet. Tadashi stands there surprised that you know Tsukishima’s body language despite only knowing each other for a couple of months. “More importantly I wanted my relationship to grow with your sister first before I told you anything, I’m sorry for that.”, Tsukishima looks at you. Hoping that you see that you’ve changed his mindset a bit. Yes, he’s tenacious but he’s also pessimistic and not one to admit he’s in the wrong. With you though, he thinks he can improve those parts of himself.

“I’m asking you as my best friend, if you could support us?”, Tsukishima grabs your hand, linking it together with his. As you stumble a bit at the sudden touch but quickly recover and stand up straight. Tadashi looks at you both, nodding. “Okay but you have to name your first born Tadashi.”, you go to hug him, choosing to ignore his comment. “Can I meet the rest of your friends, properly. Start letting people know you have a sister jerk! I’m off the market now, you know so you don’t have to worry!”, Tsukishima rolls his eyes thinking how dorky you sound. You pull back to go by Tsukishima’s side. “So, you apologize now Mr. Tenacious?”, Yamaguchi looks around awkwardly. “I’m heading to my room, don’t be gross!”, you roll your eyes. “I don’t apologize for just anyone, you know.”, you laugh. “Oh, so I should feel extra special since you apologized just to be with me?”, Tsukishima smiles. “Yeah something like that.”, pulling you to him. Kissing him felt even better than last time, he felt free not being held back by secrets or thoughts, overwhelmed by the senses of you.

“Hurry up Kei, we’re already the last ones there!”, Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Not really excited to meet up with his old friends, knowing they’ll just embarrass him. Grabbing his hand and dragging him to the restaurant, “Do you think anything new has happened with Hinata and Kags?”. Tsukishima lets out a breath, “From joining the olympic team, I don’t think so? They just have more of a reason to lose more brain cells over volleyball.”. You smile, “You have to be nice, Stingyshima.”. Tsukishima looks at you in disbelief, “Not you too. See, this is why I was reluctant to meet them. You’re going to start with the name calling.”, you kiss his cheek. “At least I mean it in a loving way, now stop sulking and let’s have some fun.”

Tsukishima and you enter, being greeted by your brother and Yachi first, then making your way to Hinata and Kageyama. Watching as Kageyama and Tsukishima have a weird stare off, Hinata and you laugh at how awkward the two could be. “Hinata, have you learned any new tricks?”, you glare at him excitedly. “Oh nothing too new, Kageyama and I just have to rework our quick but that’ll come naturally.”, you smile excited to see the two work together again.

Tsukishima sits next to you, grabbing your hand under the table. “Don’t worry, these freaks will have their quick down easily. It’s like second nature to them.”, Tsukishima adds slyly. Riling up the pair, “Damn it, Tsukishima.”, Hinata adds. You squeeze Kei’s hand letting him know to cut it out. To which he deflates, knowing he got caught. “What about you Yachi? Design anything new lately?”, she nods. “I designed a new ad to help support the Sendai Frogs actually.”, she pulls out her phone showing the picture to everyone. “Wow, Yachi, this is great!”, you look over the poster and see how it highlights everyone on the team.

“Your teammates look great on this Kei.”, you feel him glare at you. “You’re giving them too much credit.”, you smile. “Yachi, we should talk to our management and maybe get you to design something for the olympic team!”, you fall back watching the conversation flow. Your brother was grateful to have such good friends and you were grateful to now be a part of their group too. Taking a look around, feeling comfort in the conversation, Tsukishima lays his head on your shoulder. The conversation falls silent, “Has Tsukki gone soft?”, Tsukishima looks over. “Shut up Yamaguchi.”

divider credit to @/saradika-graphics, @/thecutestgrotto, @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @/princessantisocial

taglist: @0tsukie

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: happy (late) birthday to my pookie pie! i’m kind of on the fence with how this turned out but i’m a tsukishima girly like nothing is ever perfect, okay? ty for reading!! ♡

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu #hq #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #anime x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukki

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kookslastbutton · 3 months ago

Text

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter v

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 14k+

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mean relatives, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecating in some areas etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, there is one scene depicting some physical violence (tame) , finally some fluff!, and I won't spoil any more

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: OMG....ignore the fact that this is releasing a month after ch. 4. 🫠 i'm sorry. On the bright side, I'm VERY excited to share this with you AND this actually isn’t the last chapter. There’s one more after! I hope you enjoy 🥰 ALSO, this is GP!Taehyung in this chapter (....😮‍💨)

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"This can't be right," you mutter to yourself for the umpteenth time, eyes heavily fixated on your laptop screen. You've been scrolling through the latest press releases all morning, a cup of tea growing cold beside you.

Ever since Jimin’s text last week, rumors about your ex-husband stepping down from his position at JeonX practically spread like wildfire, with nearly every journalist adding their individual spin on the matter—some suggest personal issues, while others hint at possible disagreements within the company.

Despite the influx of information, however, it all remains too vague and inconclusive. An official statement from the company directly would help clear up speculations, but it’s been crickets. Their silence only makes you consider the validity of the rumors even more.

Why would they make such a critical leadership change right after their newest product launch though?

This question, among others, continuously swirl in the back of your mind and you find the entire predicament ironic. You used to be one of the first to know the ins and outs of the company, easily able to distinguish the truth. Now, you're left in the dark like everyone else, dependent on the media for answers.

Before your eyes have time to skim the next group of articles on your screen, your phone rings.

It's Taehyung.

“Hey,” you answer casually, momentarily forgetting the significance of the call.

“Morning!” His voice is gravelly yet carries a cheerful tone. He seems quite upbeat for a foggy Saturday at 8 a.m. “Are you still okay to carpool to my parents' place today? Tan and I are on our way over.”

Dammit. Of course, this isn’t just any old Saturday—it’s the day of Taehyung’s family gathering. It had slipped your mind that you asked to ride together a few days prior. Given that it would be a five-hour long commute, driving separately seemed less convenient and enjoyable. Besides, you’d miss out on having Tan on your lap, his head poking out of the passenger-side window.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Great! See you soon.” Taehyung hangs up, and you put your phone down with a deep breath.

To be blunt, you're still extremely nervous about the affair. Surely his family knows who you are and has seen their fair share of articles about you. So how will they react when you show up next to Taehyung at their family function? He says they’ll like you, but it's hard to accept.

Nonetheless, you know how important this family gathering is to him and how much he wants you to be there. Not only is it a family event, but it’s also a celebration of his recovery from a motorcycle accident that could’ve been much worse.

As you pour your cold cup of tea down the sink, you try to push away the unsettling mix of thoughts, focusing instead on the next task at hand— how you should dress. Prior conversations with Taehyung advise you that something polished would be ideal for the occasion, as his family appreciates a touch of elegance, yet your mind blanks on a tangible option. Surely, there’s something in the back of your closet that would do the trick. Right?

Well…you’re right-ish.

Upon searching through rows of hangers, arms growing tired, you finally find a somewhat suitable sundress. You’re hoping it won’t look too casual, but you don’t seem to have a better alternative with your closet currently overtaken by work clothes.

Wasting no further time, you quickly slip the dress over your head and observe how it fits in the mirror. Not bad, you think, before deciding on a few complimentary jewelry pieces. The saving grace of this choice of clothing is that it can easily be dolled up, which is exactly what’s needed today.

Soon, you hear the muffling of an engine and when you peek through your bedroom window, you’re unsurprised to see Taehyung’s car pull into the driveway with a very excited Tan poking his head out from the backseat. A small smile forms on your lips at the sight.

Sparing one final look in the mirror, you slide into your shoes, toss your bag over a shoulder, and head outside to meet them.

“Hey!” Per usual, you're met with a warm smile as you hop into Taehyung's car but before you can return the greeting, Tan bounds onto your lap, tail wagging eagerly. “God, I’m so sorry about him,” Taehyung reaches for his dog, but you quickly reassure him it’s alright.

“I’m happy to see you too, Tan,” you laugh, petting him affectionately. Your focus then shifts over to Taehyung, "Thanks for coming to get me."

“Of course,” he replies, smile widening as he watches Tan settle into your lap. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me," he continues, pulling away from the curb. "My parents are looking forward to meeting you.”

You nod, trying to calm your fluttering nerves. “I’m looking forward to meeting them too.” This time, when you glance his way, you take in his attire—a crisp white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black dress pants. It’s a classic look, yet it seems oddly refreshing on him. It's not like you expected Taehyung to look bad or anything; far from it, but did he always have to look this good? A queasy feeling soon settles in the pit of your stomach...maybe you should have worn something else.

Before you're able to fully turn away from him, Taehyung speaks up. “You look really nice today,” he says softly, eyes lingering over your face and down your body before shyly refocusing on the road. “That dress is beautiful on you—it really suits you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply with a shy smile of your own, unexpectant of his comment. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Something about the subtle exchange of compliments stirs a bundle of nerves in both of you and even with averted eyes, neither of you finds it entirely unpleasant.

The rest of the drive is long, but luckily, soon fills with lighthearted conversation and laughter. It's become easier and easier to be around Taehyung, you think.

After more than a few bathroom breaks—mostly due to Tan’s persistent whining—you finally catch sight of Taehyung’s parent’s house.

It’s even more picturesque than you imagined, with its charming architecture and well-tended garden. In the distance, the ocean glimmers, tying the scene perfectly together.

“I meant to mention earlier, but my parents have an oceanfront view,” Taehyung says casually, pulling up to the house. “We can go down there later if you’d like. It’s private access.”

“Really?” You glance over at him with anticipation, your excitement clear. You can already taste the saltiness of the water. “If it’s really okay, I’d love that.”

“It’s more than okay,” he assures with a smile. “In fact, it’s a done deal. The best time to go is in the evening. We can even use the excuse that we need to take Tan for a little stroll if necessary. Family bonding can get a bit overwhelming without a few breaks.” He lets out a chuckle but stops when he notices your slightly demure expression.

“Hey,” he turns to you with gentle eyes. “Everything okay?”

You blink, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve gone to any kind of family affair. They know I’m coming, right?”

Understanding your apprehension, Taehyung shifts the gear into park and places a light hand on your arm. “Absolutely, and please believe me when I say they’re more than ready and excited to meet you. They’ve asked about you so many times—I’m pretty sure I’ve lost count. I’m really happy you’re here with me too, so I hope you don’t feel like you’re intruding because I promise you’re not at all. And if at any point you need a moment to yourself, take it. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible, and I’m confident my family will want the same.”

With his hand on your arm, you find yourself wrapping yourself in the comfort of the gesture, nerves slowly easing in the process. “Thanks, Tae,” you reply, feeling a tad lighter than before.

“Are you ready?”

You nod, signaling him to remove his hand to take the key out of the ignition. As his hand leaves your arm however, you feel a subtle, unexpected shift—wishing the warmth of his touch could linger just a moment longer.

But hold up.

Since when did he affect you like this?

Dwelling on it further proves to be futile because before you can blink, the house’s front door swings wide open, revealing an older, petite woman with a kind and inviting smile. You both step out of the car immediately, Tan happily trotting around the yard confidently.

The woman pulls Taehyung into a big hug once close enough, and it’s all the evidence you need to deduce that she must be his mother.

“We were wondering where you were!” she starts. “Everyone’s here except you.” It’s a light scold, not that Taehyung minds from the giant grin spreading across his face.

“Forgive me, Mom. I guess we’re fashionably late,” he replies.

Mrs. Kim looks up and down her son with adoration, hands still gripping his arms. “Look at you,” she coos, as if proud. “My son is so handsome. I’m so happy to see you here, healthy and well.”

“Mom, this is __.”

Her eyes then shift to you, standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. If possible, her warm expression brightens even more, taking you by surprise.

“My goodness, I’m being so rude," she says, stepping toward you. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you, honey. Are you okay with hugs?”

“Sure.” You offer a sincere smile and embrace her. When you do, you feel a sense of peacefulness that you hadn’t ever before, soothing any lingering tension. You can’t help but assume that many of Taehyung’s qualities must come from her.

“I’m so pleased that my son brought you today,” she says, pulling back from the hug. She takes in your clothing as well. “You're absolutely lovely, my dear. Doesn't this color work wonderfully on her?” She glances at Taehyung, who merely nods in agreement.

“You’re the one who looks beautiful, Mrs. Kim,” you return the compliment, feeling a tad embarrassed by all the praise. “I love your earrings by the way. Are they jade?”

She nods, pleasantly. “Thank you for noticing. They’re indeed jade. My husband gifted them to me for our anniversary last year. I told him he didn’t need to get me anything, but that man is so persistent. Speaking of which, you should come inside and meet him.” She turns around at once and ushers you and Taehyung into the house. He allows you to go first.

As you follow Mrs. Kim up the steps, Tan bounds ahead excitedly. The aroma of delicious food fills the air the further you walk, and soon you’re greeted by a cozy, homey atmosphere.

Finally, you find Taehyung’s father in the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink. “Honey, Taehyung’s here and he brought __ with him.” Upon hearing your name, the man quickly dries his hands on a towel and extends a friendly hand your way, eyes twinkling.

“Hello, __! I’m glad you could come today. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It’s gorgeous in here.”

“Well, we have our son to thank.” He directs his attention to Taehyung, reaching out and patting his son on the back with a proud smile. “He bought this house for us after all. He’s a good son.”

What?

You glance at Taehyung in surprise, intrigued to learn more about this new bit of information. However, seemingly flustered by the comment, you decide it’s better to save it for another time. His mother is quick to step in.

“Taehyung, dear, why don’t you show __ around and introduce her to everyone?” she suggests smoothly. “They’re all in the living room. We’ll gather everyone to have lunch soon.”

Taehyung nods at the suggestion and begins leading you through the house, until you reach the living room at the end of the hall. The room is even larger than you anticipated upon entering, its high ceilings finished with a delicate glass chandelier. A grand piano sits in the far corner as well where a number of children huddle together, each taking turns playing a few notes.

One by one, Taehyung starts introducing you to his relatives and despite your initial apprehension, each person you meet greets you with nothing but warmth and kindness. Not even a single person shows discomfort towards you or makes a dig into your personal life (though you’re certain they’re well aware of who you are). It’s no wonder Taehyung boasts about his family so often—they truly are a close-knit and respectable group of people.

At least, that’s what you think until Taehyung asks, “Where's Auntie and Uncle? I haven’t seen them yet.”

One of Taehyung’s cousins looks a bit hesitant before replying, “Oh, Tae, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard anything from them so they might not be coming today. Maybe they had last-minute plans. It’s a bit of a shame, really.”

An odd silence settles over the room at this, conversations lower in volume, and a few knowing glances are exchanged among relatives. The abrupt shift seems to throw a wrench into your previous statement of closeness since, evidently, the absence of Taehyung’s aunt and uncle casts a dark shadow over the cheerful gathering.

Sensing an awkward lull, Taehyung tries to lighten the mood with a bright smile. “Well, I’m sure we’ll still have a great time. I’m just happy to see everyone here.” He gently redirects the conversation to something more upbeat, attempting to remedy the unusual tension.

Just then, a small figure bursts into the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, runs straight toward Taehyung with arms outstretched. “Taetae!” she shouts, using the affectionate nickname as she latches herself around his legs.

Taehyung's face breaks into possibly the happiest grin you’ve seen in response as he kneels to lift her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggles. “Hey, sweetheart! I missed you!” His voice is filled with affection, though there’s a hint of shock as well.

Eagerly, the little girl secures her arms around his neck. “I missed you too! Mommy and Daddy said we might not be able to come, but here we are!”

“Well, I'm so glad! Have you been a good girl for your parents?” he asks with a playful tone.

The little girl nods vigorously. “Yes! I’ve been helping Mommy with so much lately.”

“Good job!” Taehyung says, giving her a high five.

You’re unsure exactly how the two relate, but the longer you watch the interaction unfold, the more evident it becomes that Taehyung’s a natural at connecting with children. His playful demeanor and patience make it clear that he has a special way with them. It’s heartwarming to see, quite honestly.

“Taetae, who’s she?” the little girl asks suddenly, her big, curious eyes setting on you.

Taehyung smiles and gestures for you to come closer. “This is __. She’s my friend.” He looks at you and adds, “This is my little cousin Eun-ha. We’re quite close.”

“Hi, Eun-ha,” you greet with a soft smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t return your greeting, but rather leans into Taehyung’s ear and whispers something you can’t quite hear.

Taehyung chuckles softly, though it does little to conceal your curiosity. “No, Eun-ha,” he says, shaking his head. “We don’t kiss like in my movies. But yes, she's very pretty.”

Though you wish otherwise, your surprise is barely hidden as you process the revelation.

“Why not?” Eun-ha asks, puzzled. “You kiss lots of pretty people in the movies.”

Flustered, Taehyung clears his throat. “Who’s letting you watch my shows? You’re a little young for those I think.”

“She likes to watch them when she can’t see you,” a new voice interjects.

Following the voice, you see two adults entering the room– Taehyung’s aunt and uncle. Their expressions are clearly stiff and somewhat distant, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rest of the family.

“Well, I guess it’s okay then,” Taehyung responds, maintaining his usual beaming smile. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s good to see you.”

His aunt and uncle offer polite but somewhat curt greetings.

“Glad to see you’re alright, Taehyung,” his aunt says, her tone lacking warmth.

“Hello,” his uncle adds, his expression neutral. “I see you’ve brought a guest.” He nods toward you.

“Yes, this is __,” Taehyung introduces you, “She’s a friend of mine and a colleague as well.”

The pair glance at you briefly, their eyes betraying a lack of interest.

“Nice to meet you,” his aunt says, though the thickness in her tone suggests otherwise.

“Likewise,” you respond, trying to match their formality with a friendly smile.

“You know, when I heard my nephew was bringing a guest, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect,” she continues, though the implication is unclear.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, trying to grasp her meaning.

“My apologies. I work as an editor for a journalism outlet, so I’ve come across your name before,” she explains. “It’s always interesting to see people in person after reading about them. I can’t say I ever imagined having the opportunity today.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep your composure. “I hope the coverage has been accurate.” You know they haven’t been, aside from a couple of progressive news outlets. Based on her rigid stare, you don’t think she belongs to either of them.

“They’re accurate most of the time,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Although, there are always…different perspectives on such matters.”

You offer a polite, tight-lipped smile in response. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, however, your hands unconsciously clench into fists at your sides, indicating your bubbling discomfort.

“Well, I’m sure those articles are just one side of the coin,” Taehyung chimes in, attempting to smooth over the conversation. “I’m of the mindset that you really don’t know a person until you spend time with them. And I can assure you, those overpriced tabloids have it all wrong.” He shoots you a reassuring look.

In the midst of it all, Taehyung’s father steps into the room, oblivious to the tension. “Alright everyone, it’s time to eat!” he announces, his voice carrying a cheerful note. “Let’s gather around now.”

Neither you nor Taehyung’s aunt speak another word to each other as you follow his father into the dining room. You take a deep breath along the way, an attempt to steady yourself.

As lunch begins, Taehyung’s father stands at the head of the table, a broad smile on his face as he raises a glass.

“We want to thank everyone for being here today to celebrate Taehyung’s recovery,” he begins, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “We’re grateful for this family and for the love and support that has carried us through. To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” everyone echoes, lifting their glasses in a unified cheer.

From then on, the meal progresses smoothly, with conversation gradually returning to pleasant topics. Dishes are passed around, and laughter helps lighten the mood. Taehyung’s parents share stories of their journey together, their voices rich with wisdom and nostalgia. As you listen, you get a glimpse of the morals that have shaped their family. It’s so different from your own upbringing, and you feel honored to be a part of it today.

Yet it's still difficult to ignore the lingering heaviness in your chest from your earlier interaction with Taehyung’s aunt. Even now, her sour expression is directed your way, though she seems to withhold her remarks, perhaps due to Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s presence.

Don’t take this personally, you repeat in your head. There’s likely some underlying history or traditional views being projected onto you. This isn’t really about you…don't take it personally.

Midway through the meal, Taehyung’s mother intrigues everyone by pulling out a collection of old photographs. She begins sharing the backstories of various childhood photos of Taehyung, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy and amusement as she recounts each memory. Taehyung, visibly flustered, tries to hide his blush as his family teases him.

“Oh, look at this one!” his mother exclaims, holding up a particularly old photo of a much younger Taehyung with a hilariously exaggerated hairstyle. “He was so determined to be a rock star!”

The room bursts into laughter, and Taehyung grins sheepishly, his cheeks rosy. “Is this really necessary? I mean __’s here…”

“Come on, Tae, it’s cute!” you say with a smile, giving his arm a playful shove. As you do, Taehyung’s aunt’s eyes widen slightly. Her gaze shifts sharply between you two, and a flicker of disapproval crosses her face. You stop your playfulness upon first notice, finding it hard to ignore.

“It’s embarrassing,” Taehyung retorts, unaware of his aunt’s reaction.

“Oh hush,” his mother replies with a warm smile. “Let a mother indulge in the memories of her children. You’re all grown up now, and with your busy schedule, I hardly see you anymore.”

“Alright, fair point,” Taehyung concedes. “Carry on.”

When the meal winds down, Taehyung’s aunt clears her throat and speaks up. “Is everyone ready for dessert? I’ve baked a homemade cake,” she announces, tone carrying a hint of forced cheerfulness. Turning to you, she adds, “Would you mind assisting me in the kitchen, __? I could use an extra hand.”

Taehyung immediately offers to help, but his aunt insists on speaking with you alone, masking it as an opportunity to get to know you better.

Once you’re in the kitchen and away from prying eyes and ears, Taehyung’s aunt’s demeanor shifts abruptly. She returns to her previous blunt and unreserved nature. “I need to be honest with you,” she begins, her voice low and steely. “I don’t think you should be here.”

Her words sting, yet a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s some merit to them.

“I know this is a family event, and I’m sorry if it seems like I’m intruding. Taehyung invited me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she dismisses, venom lacing her tone. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here with Taehyung.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to—”

“Oh please, don’t pretend I don’t have eyes, Ms. __,” she interjects sharply. The use of your formal name sends a chill down your spine. “You may be friends now, but I can see there’s more going on beneath the surface. Unlike the rest of my family, I won’t just stand by and let it happen. So, if you think you can charm your way into my nephew’s life just like you did with that ex-husband of yours, then you’re mistaken. I won’t allow you to ruin his life.”

Ruin his life? You ruined Jungkook’s life and now you are about to ruin Taehyung’s? Confused and hurt, you finally realize the root of the matter–she's convinced you’re a gold digger.

You’re stunned by the accusation, struggling to find words as she continues. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind either. Even if the articles aren’t exactly true, you still have a past, and Taehyung deserves better—someone without all these complications. Don’t you agree? Maybe if you hadn’t been married before and were ten years younger, things might be different. But honestly? A woman your age should already have a family of her own.”

Silence falls heavily in the kitchen after her final words, the only sound being your labored breaths. Your throat goes dry and your hands clammy as some of your deepest insecurities take root, striking right at your core.

It’s true—you’re 30 years old, divorced, and without children. It’s a stark contrast to your peers.

You’d always imagined your life turning out differently, but here you are, alone and without any kind of companionship. You weren’t expecting to be reminded of it all today.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear about how you feel,” a voice speaks up, and you think it’s yours, until you realize it’s much too deep.

Taehyung’s aunt looks momentarily stunned to see her nephew standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. But she quickly regains her composure. “Taehyung, I was just—”

“Please don’t,” he interrupts, voice firm. “If I had known you were going to be this cruel towards someone I deeply care about, then I’m sorry I invited you.”

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “You have no right to judge someone you don’t know based on rumors and assumptions.”

His aunt’s face softens, though her disapproval remains. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from my own choices,” Taehyung replies, his voice calmer. “I’ve made my own decisions, and __ is a part of that. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should reconsider how you approach these situations.”

Taehyung’s aunt stands silent for a moment, her gaze shifting between Taehyung and you. She seems to weigh his words before finally nodding and turning back towards the dining room, her displeasure still evident.

Taehyung turns to you, his face etched with worry. “Are you alright?”

You hesitate, unable to give a clear response. “I… I think I need some air,” you finally say.

“Maybe it’s time we take that walk down to the beach,” he suggests gently. “What do you think? Of course, if you’d prefer to go solo, that’s completely your call too. I’ll understand either way.”

You nod, appreciating the idea. “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Let me grab Tan and we can head down,” Taehyung says with a reassuring smile.

The sound of the waves grows louder as you approach the ocean, providing a soothing backdrop to your racing thoughts. It's even more beautiful up close, you think, observing how the sun reflects off the water.

As you walk along the shore, Tan runs ahead, chasing the waves and barking playfully. The sight of him brings a small smile to your face, easing some of the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung walks beside you, his presence peaceful, though neither of you are quick to speak.

Finally, after a few minutes pass, he breaks the silence.

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there," he says quietly. "My aunt's always had more traditional perspectives, but I didn’t know how rigid they’d gotten. Regardless of how she might've made you feel, I want you to know that you’re very important to me and I couldn't care less about what the public says. The rest of my family seems to love you too so far."

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung. But thank you.” You pause, your face visibly conflicted. “To be honest, I’ve heard variations of it before from other people. I just didn’t expect her to be so… direct.”

He nods, turning to you with sincerity. “I know it was hurtful, and even though I didn’t hear everything she said, you didn’t deserve it. It's not true, either.”

You manage a small, tight-lipped smile, but it hardly matches how you feel inside. “Well,” you begin, continuing your walk, “some of it's true, I think.” Taehyung looks at you with concern, though you struggle to hold his gaze.

“Wanna sit?” he suggests lightly, gesturing to a spot on the beach with a clear view of the waves ahead. "Tan'll be fine to roam around on his own."

You nod slowly in reply, a gentle breeze caressing your face and feathering against your legs as you move.

Once you reach the area, you tuck the skirt of your dress beneath your thighs and take a seat on the soft sand. Taehyung sits down beside you.

“So,” he starts again, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s true?"

You take a moment, watching the waves crash against the shore before forming a response. “It’s just…” Your voice falters as you search for the right words. “I’m 30 years old. The natural course for someone my age is to have a family, a couple of kids, and of course, be married. Or at the very least, have a reliable romantic partner.”

“Instead,” you take a short breath, “it feels like I’m living in a completely different reality from everyone else. Divorced from a big shot CEO, without children, and painted as some kind of spinster or gold digger for the media to exploit. Being a woman, there's really no in-between which makes it that much harder to overcome."

Upon finishing your thought, an unmistakable nervousness bubbles up within you. Had you just overshared? Were you too honest? Although unsettled, everything in you hopes that you didn't just overstep your boundaries with Taehyung, as the two of you hadn't had this deep of a conversation before. You find yourself holding your breath as he replies.

"To have all that unnecessary pressure placed on you is unfair,” he says quietly. “I can’t imagine how tough it must be to feel disregarded and reduced to so little. I'm so sorry, __. I'm sorry that we gets so fixated on image and what’s deemed proper that we often forget the real meaning behind things. I know it might be hard to believe, but there’s more to your story than what others see or say. More than even you might think, too."

As if inevitable, your vision goes misty and a tear spills down your cheek upon hearing his words, though you're quick to wipe it away. It's not that the words themselves are monumental, but rather, they confirm the closeness of your relationship. Few people have ever understood or cared to understand you, so you had stopped expecting it altogether, especially after your divorce. Yet somehow, Taehyung always surprises you, being one of the few who truly does.

Feeling a bit more comfortable, you admit, "I know it's probably an overstatement, but I can't help but feel like I'm alone in ways that are hard to escape. Some days I just don't know what to do with it all. Does that make sense?"

“Sweetheart,” Taehyung says softly, taking the hand you used to wipe your tears and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch sends a comforting spark through you. He’s never called you that before, and it feels unexpectedly intimate—almost domestic, if you didn’t know better.

“It makes complete sense, especially given what you've gone through and still are. You don’t ever have to feel alone anymore though,” he continues. “I’m here for you. You have Jimin and Namjoon too. And the three of us? We’ll always have your back.”

Your eyes soften as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with such warmth and innocence, yet he hasn’t fully grasped the weight of your words.

“I appreciate it,” you say gratefully. “It’s not all one-dimensional, though. When I say I feel alone, I mean relationally as well because, given my age and marital status, it's unlikely I'll find any real companionship. I’m just considered ‘used goods' after all.”

“Used goods? Who the hell said you're used?” Taehyung’s voice rises, not in anger but in genuine offense. Amid his reaction, his hand slips from yours.

“Our entire society?” you retort, raising your voice before lowering it again, realizing he means well. You pull your legs up to your chin and hug them. “I’m divorced, Tae. I’m no beauty queen. Just used goods, as I said.”

You both stare out into the distance, falling into a brief silence.

“Well, I for one think you’re very gorgeous,” he says softly, still gazing ahead. “So please, don’t call yourself used. You’re definitely not.”

“Tae—”

“Do you wish you were still married?” he interjects gently, eyes returning to yours, searching for the truth. He wants to add, To Jungkook? but keeps it to himself, not deeming it his business.

You take a moment to process his question before responding.

“Some days I do,” you admit. “Not just with anyone, though. I’ve already learned my lesson the hard way. Jimin tried setting me up with a few of his coworkers a while back, but I declined. They’re so far away that I doubt anything would work out. Plus, not to be harsh but who in their right mind would risk it with me anyway?”

“I mean...I would,” he replies almost immediately, insistence in his voice. There's no trace of bluff at all and for a moment, your heart feels like it's doing about a hundred somersaults in your chest. Taehyung's seriousness makes it seem like he means it in a deeper way, but it can't be—he’s merely speaking figuratively because of your closeness.

“Of course you would,” you reply, grabbing his hand again and smiling gratefully. “Because you love me, right?”

You pose the question playfully, feeling your mood lift slightly, but Taehyung’s expression turns stunned, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I do,” he finally murmurs, deep and meaningful, a soft glimmer in his eyes. “I really do.”

"Hu-" you choke on your words, still trying to process his. You never finish, though, as Taehyung suddenly moves to stand up, a newfound cheekiness taking precedence over his face.

“Come on,” he says, “on a warm day like this, we should find a way to enjoy ourselves. Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, though to be honest, you're not surprised by his spontaneity. “Dancing is a no, Tae. You know I have zero rhythm.”

He doesn’t reply to your argument but instead draws his phone from his pocket, tapping around until light jazz music starts playing. He turns up the volume as loud as he can before placing it on the ground beside you.

“What are you doing?” you watch as he begins swaying his body from side to side, snapping his fingers when the beat feels right.

“I’m dancing by myself since you refuse to get up.”

You laugh, “I happen to like it this way. You can be my source of entertainment.” You adjust yourself so your legs are stretched out in front of you, feet crossed as you lean back on your arms.

He chuckles and continues dancing in small circles. You feel a little guilty the longer you watch. But then...

“__,” he calls your name, low and raspy. He steps over towards you and leans down until he's face to face with you. You like the way the sun glows down on his face, and the thought crosses your mind—he looks incredibly handsome. “__,” he calls your name again, and you realize you've been staring a little too long.

“Sorry,” you reply. “Sun’s making me dazed.”

He gives his usual boxy smile, and damn, why are you feeling so affected by him today? It’s not usually this much.

“Will you please dance with me? I don’t mind dancing by myself, but I prefer a partner.” He pouts and you know you’re done for.

“I’m not going to be good though,” you reply, reluctantly rising from your comfortable seated position. Taehyung pulls you into his hold the moment you’re on your feet. It's a little rougher than he meant, and your bodies accidentally collide in the process.

“Shit, my bad,” he says, taking a small step back.

“It’s fine," you assure, doing the same but not before catching a whiff of his cologne. You can't quite place the scent, but it’s nice...really, really nice.

As the music continues to play, you both sway gently to the rhythm. Taehyung’s touch is warm and steady as he guides you through each simple step. You feel a strange sense of comfort and safety in his arms, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“I didn’t realize you were such a good dancer,” you start. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

He spins you gently, and you let out a surprised laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the jazz music. “I had to take ballroom dancing lessons for a role I played years ago,” he replies smoothly, “but I enjoyed it, so I kept it up.” When you come back to him, he holds you a little tighter, and the closeness feels more intimate and special than you anticipated.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Even with barely any practice."

“All thanks to you,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I guess it’s kinda fun.”

“See? Not so bad,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You glance towards the ocean, feeling a rush of spontaneity yourself. “The water looks so inviting. We should go in.”

He quirks a brow, taking in both of your more formal attire. “Dressed like this?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you slide out of his hold and run towards the water, laughing and splashing him once he’s close enough behind you.

“Hey! This was expensive!” he shouts, but there's no threat in his voice, only amusement.

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn it around me then!” you tease, splashing him again.

Now nearly drenched, Taehyung huffs and bends down to scoop water into his palm. “You’re gonna get it…” You back away quickly, but he follows after you. “Come here, I have a very special gift for you __,” he says mischievously, water spilling from his hand as he chases you.

You both end up playing in the water for the next ten minutes, splashing and laughing until you find yourself regaining confidence. At some point, Taehyung unexpectedly tackles you from behind, his arms wrapping so tightly around your waist that no amount of movement would free you.

You find yourselves too lost in amusement to notice your closeness until small droplets of water begin falling from above.

"Was that rain?" You stop all movement, but his grip doesn’t loosen. "Tae?" You call his name when it seems he doesn’t register your question, twisting your head over your shoulder to peer at him.

“Oh…um, sorry,” he finally stammers, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as he realizes the tight hold he has on you. His body flushes against your back.

“No, it’s okay…” you struggle to conceal a blush of your own, the warmth of his embrace a little overpowering. "So, I think we should head back. I'm pretty sure it's raining."

He nods and slowly unwraps his arms from around you. "I agree, but where's Tan?" His eyes frantically scan around the beach. "Tan!" he calls, and soon, two fluffy, slightly damp ears pop out from behind a rock.

"Aww," you exclaim, bending down to pick up the little dog when he trots over. "Look at him. We neglected the baby."

Taehyung snorts at your remark. "He'll be okay. It barely started."

You pretend to cover Tan's ears and shoot Taehyung a faux alarmed expression. "He can hear you, you know."

Taehyung chuckles and gently cups Tan’s face while he nestles in your arms, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy,” he says with a grin. As he looks up, he catches a prolonged gaze in your eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What? You want one too?”

“Oh, uhm, no,” you laugh, a bit nervously, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to see you so endearing.” You think back to how Taehyung had interacted so sweetly with his younger cousin, Eun-ha, earlier. It’s a side of him you're finding increasingly appealing.

Taehyung's gaze softens as he replies, “I like to take care of those I love.”

Love, you repeat quietly to yourself. It sounds so different when he says it.

You smile and, side by side, head back to the house.

The faint drizzle of rain quickly turns into a downpour, with a flash of lightning illuminating the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. Despite the potential inconvenience, Taehyung’s parents insist that it would be better for both of you to wait until morning to drive back.

"It isn't safe," his mom advises, fluffing a pillow in the guest bedroom. "The two of you can stay here for the night. I’d offer the living room sofa too, but some of your cousins are staying over as well."

"Thanks, Mom," Taehyung replies, and when she leaves the room he casts a brief glance your way. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No, you can sleep in the bed with Tan." You pause, eyes scanning the room for an alternative spot. “This chair looks pretty comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket and make do.”

"Okay no, I’m not letting you sleep on that old, dusty chair and risk waking up with a giant kink in your neck.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips, his tone firm. “Why don’t we just sleep in the bed together? For some inexplicable reason, my parents chose to put a California King in here so there should be plenty of room. I’ll even sleep on top of the covers.”

“No, it's fine. Tan needs his space."

“Sweetheart." There it is again, that same petname from earlier. Why do you not seem to hate it? "Tan is so tiny he’ll literally curl between us," he argues, though it does little to convince you.

“Tae, I told you it’s—”

“Alright, I’ll take the chair then-” Taehyung starts to move toward it, but stubbornly, you block his path. There's no way he's sleeping on a chair when you're the guest here.

“You will do no such thing!" Naturally, you place your hands on your hips. “This is your home—well, your parent's home and I won't be subjecting you to sleep on something that small. Seriously Tae, I'd fit much better on it than you would given our height differences.”

A small, frustrated sigh escapes him as he counters, “I'd really rather you be comfortable, especially in an unfamiliar environment. So can we please stop arguing about this? It’s really unnecessary. Either I take the chair or we both find a way to share the bed. You can’t tell me you and Jimin never shared a bed before, and he’s your friend too!"

“Yes, but that’s different,” you insist. “Jimin and I have been friends for years! There’s a strong trust built between us.”

“What do you mean by that? You don’t trust me?” His face mirrors that of a sad, puppy-dog.

“Tae, it’s not that at all,” you say softly, trying to sound reassuring. “I do trust you. It’s just… I guess I just meant that Jimin and I have a long history together. We’ve grown very comfortable with each other in ways you and I haven’t yet.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow in concern. “What are you really worried about, __?”

You shrug, feeling a bit flustered. “Nothing…”

Your mind immediately drifts back to the beach—how he listened, held your hand gently, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and what it felt like to be held so close under the rain. Everything felt so genuine, warm, and openly vulnerable.

You share similar feelings with Jimin, but they have limits as you are definitely only friends… best friends, to be precise. With Taehyung, you figured it would be the same; however, after today, you're realizing more and more how unsure you are of where the limits are (or where you want them to be), and it startles you.

But it’s not this alone that fuels your apprehension tonight— there’s something else.

“You know I won’t do anything right?” Taehyung asks, his voice earnest. “I sleep with five pillows!”

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Five? What the hell, Tae? Are you a princess?”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, more nonchalantly than expected, “but stop deflecting. It sounds weird and a bit kinky, but why won’t you sleep in the bed with me?”

Should you tell him?

Your expression grows serious as you explain, “Because it can be very intimate,” you murmur softly. “Maybe I'm overthinking it all, but the last time I shared a bed with someone it...uhm...it was…”

“...with your ex-husband,” Taehyung finishes for you, his tone gentle with understanding. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Yes…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s silly, but I haven’t done it in a long time. Even Jimin and I haven’t shared a bed in years.”

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung says, his voice filled with genuine regret.

“Tae, you don’t have to be sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s my own issue. I’ll just sleep on the chair, alright? It’s only one night.”

“Not happening, you’ll take the bed with Tan.”

“Seriously,” you start to protest, but he’s already moving toward the foot of the bed with determination in his eyes. He grabs the blanket from the end and rushes over to the chair with haste. You run after him, pulling at his arm, and both of you end up laughing, the tension gradually breaking.

“It's been a very long day and I'm quite tired, __. How about turning off the lights, please?” He spreads out the blanket and settles into the chair with a satisfied sigh. Then, there’s a loud creak followed by a distinct cracking sound.

“Fuck—” Taehyung swears as the chair suddenly collapses under his weight. He rises from his seat, grimacing at the broken chair. “I knew it was old, but damn, I didn’t think it was that old.”

“Shit, please tell me this wasn't a family heirloom or something.”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Taehyung scratches his head, looking sheepish. “I’ll let my mom know in the morning. It’ll be fine, okay? No worries. But, um, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.” Taehyung then grabs a couple pillows and a blanket and starts forming a makeshift bed on the floor. While you watch him, your heart softens despite your exhaustion.

“Alright, enough,” you sigh, exasperated. “If we keep this up, we’ll just be going in circles all night. Let’s just share the bed, Tae. It’s not worth you being uncomfortable.”

Taehyung looks up, concern written over his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable either. I’m happy to—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, doing your best not to overthink it. “You're the one who'll be driving for five hours tomorrow anyway, so let’s just get some decent rest. It's okay, really.”

After a good long pause, you both end up climbing into the bed, each taking your own side as Tan curls himself at the foot of the bed. Taehyung reaches over to turn off the light, but despite the calmness of the room, you find yourself unable to sleep right away. You’re unaware he feels similarly until he unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks quietly. “We have more blankets if you need them.”

You turn slightly toward him. “I’m okay for now, but thanks for checking.”

He gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You roll back onto your side and close your eyes. “You too.”

As the night deepens, the storm outside continues its relentless drumming against the windows. At some point, Taehyung jolts awake to a faint but unmistakable sound.

He blinks groggily at first, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Then he notices your restless movements and hears you murmuring softly in your sleep, a note of distress in your voice.

"__?" he asks quietly, still half-asleep. "Are you okay?"

When you don’t respond, he shifts closer, concerned by the unease on your face. Seeing your share of the blankets has slipped off, he gently tugs them back over you, making sure they cover you comfortably.

Amid the movement, a muddled groan escapes your lips—something between a whimper and a sigh, "Mmm… no…"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out you must be having a nightmare of some sort. “It’s just a dream,” he whispers soothingly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You’re safe here with me.”

He gently takes your slightly trembling hand and holds it gently in his. “I’m right here, __,” he sighs softly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

Taehyung isn’t sure how much time passes before your restlessness stops, but he stays awake, hand clutching yours until it does. Eventually, assuming you’ve finally entered a more peaceful sleep, he releases your hand and rolls onto his side.

What he doesn't expect is for you to unconsciously follow him over, your body snuggling against his back. The warmth of your body against his is comforting, but he knows he can't let you stay there and risk any awkwardness in the morning. So with the utmost care, he rolls over to face you and gently adjusts your body until you're lying comfortably on your back again.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep better now," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the storm. "Goodnight."

Following the reunion, you and Taehyung part ways with mutual thank-yous and promises to see each other soon.

Time seems to vanish afterward as you find yourself increasingly buried under an endless pile of work projects. Apparently, over the weekend, a notable investor reached out to your company with hopes of setting up a meeting.

Namjoon is nearly tripping over his words when he relays the message to you.

"Can you believe it?" Your secretary stands within a foot from your desk, excitement evident in his voice. "They want to meet with us! This could be huge for our company."

You share his enthusiasm but your need to remain holistic in the matter tempers your ability to feel overly zealous. Meetings with investors always carry significant opportunities; however, there's no guarantee a deal will be struck. Truthfully, it depends on a number of factors, their level of interest outweighing them all.

Plus, every meeting requires extensive preparation—late nights where you tirelessly hunch over your computer, perfecting every detail of the pitch and this one promises to be no different.

"Did they happen to mention a time or date for further discussion?" you ask, matter-of-factly. Namjoon nods, pulling out his phone.

"Yes, they suggested next Wednesday at 10 AM.”

You weigh the proposal in your mind. “That should give us enough time to get everything in order, then,” you conclude. “Please put it in our calendar and let them know we’ll be ready to meet on that day.”

From then on, the remainder of your week unfolds exactly as you anticipate—relentless preparation, long nights, and meticulous planning until the small of your back aches for relief. One might say it's an exaggeration, but the only breaks you can afford are for primal necessities like eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom.

Even your weekend is spent within the walls of your home office, a far cry from previous weekends when you used to visit the book café or meet up with Taehyung.

Speaking of which, you haven’t really gotten to see each other since his family gathering and though it was only a week ago, the lack of his presence leaves you feeling a bit disheartened. He replied to your text yesterday, but even so, it was brief—something about a new project or talk show interview was keeping him busy as well.

By the time Wednesday arrives, your neck is so riddled with the stress of the upcoming investor meeting that you can barely focus on your proposal notes. Everything in you hopes that the investors will be impressed enough to partner with you, but thinking about it does nothing except heighten your nervousness.

In search of some kind of solace, your mind wanders to Taehyung instead. The memory of the small dance you shared with him on the beach is once again vivid, as if it happened just moments ago—the soft sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves, and the way his gentle hands gripped around your waist.

But why does this memory, out of all the possibilities, feel so soothing?

You've been struggling to come to a plausible conclusion since the day it happened, yet deep down, you know it’s not as trivial as it seems. You miss it, your subconscious hums, you miss him.

Just then, Namjoon pokes his head into your office, signaling that the investors have arrived in the conference room. You send a curt nod in reply and gather your notes, refocusing your mind on the task at hand; everything else will have to wait.

Turns out, you might have been a bit too pessimistic about the investor meeting. They’re surprisingly pleased with your plans and proposals, nodding along to each of your points. However, their request for a day or two to reach a final decision catches you a tad off guard.

Rather than grapple with the uncertainty though, you decide to mentally prepare for whatever comes next... starting by decompressing at the bar downtown, a glass of their strongest alcohol in hand.

At first, finding a seat proves to be a challenge as you navigate through a sea of sweaty bodies. But luck, seemingly on your side, provides you with an empty chair at the far end of the bar. While you sit and order your drink, you can't help but wonder what Taehyung might be doing tonight. Should you text him to see if he’d join you, even if only for fifteen minutes?

Slipping your phone from the side pocket of your bag, you curse silently at your apparent haste. Your subconscious was right—you really have missed him, damn.

All at once, your thoughts are put to an abrupt stop when you take a quick glance around the bar, your gaze unprepared to land on two familiar silhouettes at the opposite end—Namjoon, with Taehyung next to him, drinks in hand. You don’t know how you failed to notice them before. They’re laughing, clearly enjoying each other’s company, and for a moment, your face lifts into a smile.

But that smile quickly fades when you catch sight of two women sauntering over to join them. Your initial joy is swiftly replaced by a sharp sting of jealousy and you chastise yourself for the feeling. Who are you to react this way? Taehyung can do whatever he wants—why should you care who he’s out with?

Forcing yourself to shake off the feeling, you take a sip of your drink, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the group. It’s obvious that the taller of the two women, arguably as stunning as Taehyung, is laser-focused on him, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she laughs at whatever joke he’s just told. Probably a dumb one, you think bitterly; it's obvious she's not just there for the humor and booze. It's strange to witness, as you've only known Taehyung to allow a few, select women to touch him so openly—his mother, his onscreen cast members, and you.

Okay __, stop, you scold yourself. This is a bad idea; you’re getting too involved for your own good. Hastily, you finish your drink and head out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. If Taehyung goes home with her, it’s none of your business.

You're barely a few feet outside the bar's door when you hear commotion echo from a nearby alley. Alarmed, you whip towards the noise, your eyes widening in disbelief. There, in the dim light, you see your ex-husband doubled over, clutching his stomach, while a shadowy figure stands in front of him, fist clenched.

You’re not sure where the courage comes from, but within seconds, you're springing to action, racing towards the scene with a surge of adrenaline. “Hey!” you shout as loudly as you can. The attacker glances back, frazzled, then bolts into the night, leaving Jungkook hunched against the alley wall.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask frantically, rushing to his side and helping him to his feet. He flinches away from your touch initially, his face a mix of panic and agony. “It’s me, Jungkook. It's __. Can you hear me? It’s okay, I’m here,” you reassure him the best you can, hoping to ease him.

Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, body still weak as he struggles to hold himself up against the wall. His eyes are glazed, and he seems disoriented. “I… I didn’t expect you,” he mutters, his voice strained.

Offering him an arm, you help him steady himself. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” He nods weakly, and as you guide him towards the parking lot and into the light, you ask, "What happened back there? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Jungkook sighs, wincing slightly. “No, it’s... I’m fine. He was just a kid—no more than 21. Angry, probably a little drunk, and accused me of being the reason his father got fired. At first, I was confused, but then I vaguely recognized him as being one of our employee’s sons. Pretty sure it was my dad who fired his—I was probably just an easier target."

You both fall into a contemplative silence as you continue walking. Of course Jungkook's father, the chairman of the company, would be behind this, you think. Previous times spent with him had shown you how ruthless he could be when it came to the "well-being" of his company. Whoever the kid was, he probably had a right to be angry, but physically taking it out on Jungkook wasn’t justifiable by any means.

“You sure you don’t need a doctor?” you ask, glancing at him with concern.

He shakes his head dismissively, "Don't worry about me," he replies. "A couple of punches to the gut won't kill me. I think it's about time I head home though."

You nod in agreement. “Where did you park?”

He points to a spot on the far left side of the parking lot, and you nearly groan at the sight. “Did you have to bring your bike tonight?” you ask, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

Jungkook gives a weak smile, understanding the inconvenience of the situation. “Thought I’d ride it in case I needed to get somewhere fast,” he replies, his voice strained but with a touch of humor.

"Come on," you say, walking him toward your car instead. "We might not be married anymore, but there’s no way in hell I'm letting you ride your bike home in this condition. You can pick it up tomorrow."

Jungkook chuckles weakly. “Damn, and to think we were about to ride it together for old times’ sake. You used to be pretty good with my motorcycle back when you were my girlfriend, __." You roll your eyes, patience thinning. If this is another one of his sexual advances, you’re long over it.

"Yeah, well, that was before Taehyung’s accident scared me half to death," you retort. "And for the record, I was never your girlfriend. We went from work partners straight to I do." You open the passenger door and help him into the seat, giving him a gentle shove. "Now sit tight and no more motorcycle talk."

Jungkook leans back and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Well, what are we gonna talk about then? It’s a twenty-minute drive to my place.”

You slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, giving him the go-ahead to enter his address into your car’s GPS. “Are you really whining already?”

As Jungkook taps away on the GPS, you’re suddenly reminded of a series of past car trips you shared with him. It’s almost like déjà vu.

“Seriously, __,” he starts, allowing his playful demeanor to fade. “Thank you for doing this for me. I know we… well, we aren’t exactly on the best terms.”

From the corner of your eye, you observe the way he aimlessly stares out the window, unsure whether to meet your gaze.

"We may not be in the best place, but that doesn’t mean I’d just leave you there," you sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. A long pause follows afterward until the question that's been gnawing at you finally slips from your lips. "How's everything with the company?"

Seemingly unfazed, as if he’d been anticipating the question, Jungkook replies, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Hard not to,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "Well, it's um... it's a sabbatical. I know it's probably a shock, right? My father isn’t too thrilled about it, so he’s delayed the official announcement until we reach a final consensus. But things have been... complicated. Our newest product launched recently, and it’s doing well, but now I think I need some time for myself. To take a step back.”

Well, shit.

Even with all the rumors, you never would have guessed in a million years that the truth of the matter was an impending sabbatical. Jungkook has always been the type to work himself until his hands bleed, so this is the last reason you expected to hear.

“I’m glad to hear you’re finally letting yourself have a break, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like you at all. Feel free not to share, but what do you mean by ‘complicated’?” The way he frames it sounds almost ominous.

“You really want to know?” He finally glances at you for the first time since getting into the car, his eyes carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“Only if you want to share,” you reply cautiously.

He looks down at his hands, gathering his thoughts. “So, remember when we last saw each other a few months back? Well, I’ve been reflecting a lot on our relationship since then. I know I wasn’t fair to you, __, and I really wish I could take it all back. You never deserved any of it. I was incredibly selfish and I’m truly sorry.”

You remain silent, thrown off by how quickly everything circles back to your fragile past together. Still, you allow him to speak.

"Before we parted ways, you suggested I see a professional, and… I thought I'd finally take your advice for once. It’s strange because I’d never gone before, but…”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m starting to understand a lot about myself—why I react the way I do and how I handle things. It’s been tough, but I’m trying. I guess I’m taking this sabbatical because I need to figure myself out, away from work, so I can be better and stop hurting people around me."

For the first time in a long time, as you listen to your ex-husband, you realize he's beginning to sound genuinely mature. If it's true that he's been seeing a therapist and taking a sabbatical to prioritize his well-being, then you're extremely proud of him.

Yet, a small part of you remains stubborn, wishing he had made these changes earlier—imagine where you might be now if he had.

“Thank you for being open enough to share this with me," you respond slowly, careful not to misspeak. "Though I’m still a little surprised, I have to say I’m really proud of you for seeking help. I’ve been seeing someone as well, and it took me some time to settle in too, but I suppose that’s part of the healing process—being uncomfortable to an extent. We’ve had our share of challenges with one another, but despite everything, I’ll always wish the best for you, Jungkook—including your health and mental well-being.”

As you pull into the driveway of his house, parking the car near the front door, Jungkook takes a deep breath and turns to you, visibly affected. "It means a lot that you'd say that, __," he starts hesitantly, hands fidgeting in his lap. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes, and I understand if you can't forgive me completely. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I wasn’t fair to you and I'm not proud of my behavior at all."

You nod in response, a small, tight-lipped smile forming. His remorse for the past is finally sincere, yet even now, as he looks at you with those hopeful eyes—the same ones you carried for months on end—you know he's searching for more than just your forgiveness.

But this time, you don’t think you can offer him more than that.

Because while you grew fond of him during your marriage, you've come to realize how unearned and misplaced that affection was. He broke your heart not once, but twice. And although you can never hate him, deep down, you can't ignore the lingering sting you feel when you're around him.

It's both sobering and eye-opening.

So, rather than reversing into old emotions, you simply say, "I believe you, Jungkook, and I think with time I'll be able to forgive you. If there’s ever a time when you’re in dire need of help, like tonight, I’ll do my best to be there. I’m afraid that’s as far as we can go, though."

It’s written all over his face that it’s not what he was hoping to hear, but respectfully, he doesn’t press further.

"I understand," he says, fingers reaching to for the passenger door handle. "Thank you again for being there for me tonight, and for driving me home. Please feel free to reach out if you ever need me as well. I hope for the best for you too, however and with whoever you choose."

The two of you exchange a brief look of gratitude before he finally pulls the door open and steps out of the car, making his way to his front door.

"Have a good night, and rest up," you call out to him. He smiles, gives a wave, and heads inside.

As you slowly back out of the driveway, you sigh, leaving only one person ruminating in your mind: Taehyung.

Then, inevitably, images of the stunning woman at the bar with him intrude your thoughts, stirring a deep, unsettling emotion within you.

Does it really matter that much who he's out with?

Are you really that jealous about it?

Mentally, you go back and forth as if plucking petals from a large sunflower… Yes. No. Yes. No. Until—Silence.

You can't seem to give a straight answer. It's like the closer you and Taehyung grow, the more undefinable and knotted your feelings become. Yet, the further apart you are, the more unnatural it feels...

Well, your indecisiveness doesn’t get any better by Friday because, finally, after what feels like an eternity, you and Taehyung have plans.

You’re heading out for dinner at a restaurant of his choosing tonight, as he insisted you go somewhere new. Where could it be? You have no clue, and while surprises aren’t usually your thing, his enthusiasm when you confirmed plans earlier has left you intrigued. There’s also this faint, inexplicably giddy feeling in your stomach that won’t go away, coinciding with a slight nervousness.

With such a seemingly important occasion, you find yourself in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting from side to side in what’s probably the fifth outfit you’ve tried on. But nothing seems to fit quite right. You’re feeling especially frustrated to be frank, as something that usually takes you twenty minutes is turning into a whole hour.

You end up tossing one final dress over your head—a bit more elegant for the occasion, but it’s one of the few items you own that accentuates your body down to the last detail. The dress hugs around your waist and falls just above your knees, its rich color perfectly complementing your skin tone. But isn’t it a little revealing? The neckline dips down further than you remember.

Crap—the alarm on your phone suddenly chimes, reminding you that Taehyung's arriving in ten minutes. You're running out of time.

"You’re being ridiculous. It’ll be fine,” you reassure yourself, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. “You're just friends. He won’t care.”

“Friends” stings more than you anticipated, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a deflated feeling in your chest.

Nevertheless, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, apply a quick swipe of lipstick, and head downstairs. Just as you finish slipping on your shoes and grabbing your purse from the coat rack, the doorbell rings, causing your heart to leap from your chest.

Deciding to rip it off like a band-aid, you toss open the door, and there he is—standing on your doorstep with his signature boxy grin and gently tousled raven hair. Taehyung's dressed in a tailored blazer and matching slacks over a crisp white t-shirt, and you find yourself at a complete loss for words as if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around him.

Maybe it’s something in the air, but he appears equally stunned, looking you up and down with wide eyes. His gaze soon softens into admiration as he takes in your entire appearance. “Wow,” he chokes, clearly impressed. “You look amazing.”

You feel a rush of warmth at his compliment and muster all your strength to keep from looking away flustered. “Thank you,” your voice wavers slightly. “You look pretty great yourself.”

Tongue in cheek, he replies with a playful smirk, “I was hoping you’d say that,” which prompts you to lightly punch him in the arm.

“Don't be arrogant.”

He chuckles, rubbing his arm with a grin. “Shall we head out?”

You nod and step outside, locking the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant is a brief one, and you're immediately struck by the charm of its exterior when you arrive—stone walls, covered with vines of ivy and warm glowing lanterns. Inside is even more beautiful, with wooden shelves lined with old books and bottles of fine wine wrapping around the room. You're starting to understand why Taehyung was so insistent on bringing you here; the place perfectly reflects his taste and, unexpectedly, yours as well.

One of the hosts leads you to a deep mahogany table after confirming your reservation. The closer you get to it, the more you notice the crisp white linens and small tealight candles that sit on top, setting a romantic scene. If you had to describe the feeling, it would be as though you’ve been transported straight to a quaint corner of France.

"So, what do you think?” Seated across from you, Taehyung looks at you with bated breath. His fingers fidget with the edge of the table, nervously anticipating your verdict.

“Honestly? It’s so charming,” you reply, glancing around in awe. “I didn’t even realize we had a place like this around.”

At this, his demeanor relaxes, and a pleased smile spreads across his face. “It’s a bit hidden, but once I found it, it quickly became one of my favorite spots.” He pauses, then adds, “This is actually the same restaurant I wanted to take you to months ago, before my accident.”

“What? You’re serious?” you blink in shock as the realization slowly sinks in. You take another look around the restaurant—the rows of books, the bottles of wine, the elegant dining atmosphere—and suddenly, it all makes sense. How did you miss it before? “I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” you say softly, regretful of having turned down his offer before.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung's quick to reassure you, reaching out to lightly touch your hand. “What matters is that we’re here now. And honestly, I’m just happy to finally share it with you.” He gives you a warm smile, and immediately, you feel a small lump form in the back of your throat.

“Thank you for bringing us here tonight,” you say, “It’s wonderful, and I’m really glad we could make it up.”

“Of course,” he replies, “I thought it was a place we’d both enjoy.”

Everything about his responses seems to carry a heightened level of endearment and attentiveness, as if there’s more hidden beneath them.

Perhaps selfishly, you also sense there’s something uniquely special about this night—something you believe only exists between the two of you. So, when Taehyung retracts his hand, you feel a fleeting instinct to reach out and grasp it again, but you stop yourself short.

What are you thinking? This isn’t a date.

Needing a distraction, you grab the menu and start scanning the options.

Taehyung sees the way your gaze drifts and tilts his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Everything alright?” he asks gently.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “I'm just getting pretty hungry with all the food I smell.”

He chuckles, "Same here," then picks up a menu of his own.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, fixated on the food and wine list. You find yourself stealing glances at him from time to time, and unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

After the waiter takes your orders, Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “How’s everything at work been? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Your face lights up at this. “Highs and lows," you reply, voice brightening, "but we got some exciting news today. I met with a potential investor earlier this week, and they’ve agreed to partner with the company. It’s a big win for us!”

Sharing your enthusiasm, Taehyung raises his wine glass, implicating you to follow suit. “This calls for a toast,” he says. “I know it must have meant long nights for you, but I’m so glad they recognized the value of you and your work. Seriously, __, you should be incredibly proud of this!"

You clink your glass with his, a light chuckle escaping you. There's something uniquely satisfying about sharing even the smallest things with him.

The conversation flows more comfortably from there, with Taehyung eagerly asking about the details of your new partnership. You reciprocate by asking about his current work projects, and soon, you both get lost in discussion, naturally causing your conversation to grow increasingly spontaneous. By the time your food arrives, the two of you must have easily covered fifty topics.

With the evening gradually becoming one of the most enjoyable you’ve had, the initial butterflies you felt at the start almost fade away... almost. That is, until you near the end of the meal and Taehyung looks at you with a seriousness in his eyes.

“I’m really glad we could do this tonight," he says, "We’ve both been so caught up with work lately that we haven’t had much time to spend together… I’ve missed it."

"Missed..." The simple six-letter word echoes in the back of your mind in a hushed murmur. It feels nice knowing you aren’t the only one affected by the recent distance.

“Me too,” you reply, more breathy than intended. Before you can fully process your words, you find yourself adding, “I’ve missed you a lot myself.”

A flush of embarrassment twists in your stomach the moment the words leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have said it like that—it almost sounded like… pining? God, you can’t even blame it on the alcohol at this point; you barely had one full glass of wine. Contrary to what you'd expect, Taehyung looks at you with a hint of shyness.

“You know,” he begins, briefly eyeing your dress, “you really do look great tonight. I’ve been a bit worried these past couple of weeks, seeing how much you work and how little sleep you get. But now… I'm relieved to see you looking so well.”

You blush. If only he saw you before tonight—greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and oversized sweats on, you think. Evidently, tonight was an exception.

"I guess I've been worried about you too if I’m being honest,” you admit, shifting slightly in your seat. "The last time we saw each other was at your family reunion. It feels like it was ages ago for some odd reason."

“I know what you mean,” he says softly, gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. “It’s strange going so long without seeing each other. It feels…unnatural.”

All at once, you pause, unsure if you heard right. Did Taehyung really say "unnatural"? It’s exactly how you’ve felt about the distance this entire time, but you hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Your mind struggles to process the sheer coincidence and its possible implications—was there something more to your relationship than you had realized?

While you try to make sense of it all, Taehyung’s raspy voice pulls you back to the present. “Well, uh, we should probably head out,” he suggests lightly, breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, though it does little to deter you from your thoughts.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress the entire drive back, occasionally glancing at Taehyung in silence. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, eyes focused on the road, yet you could’ve sworn his mouth parted at one point as if he was about to say something. But then, he held back. You wonder what he might’ve wanted to say, but you’re no better—hesitant to breathe a word yourself.

Why are neither of you speaking all of a sudden? It feels tense and unfamiliar.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, you're standing at your front door again, Taehyung close beside you. The space between you feels smaller this time, with unspoken words still lingering, but it’s clear that despite having your keys in hand, neither of you are ready to part ways just yet.

“__?” He speaks first, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” You respond, turning to face him fully.

Taehyung takes a deep breath when you do, his usual warmth replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression. “There- there's something that’s been on my mind,” he begins, voice trembling slightly. “I've been going back and forth tonight on whether or not to tell you."

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, pulse quickening.

“It’s about us..." He hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly before continuing. "Earlier tonight, when I said I've missed being able to see you, I wasn’t lying. If anything, it was likely an understatement because, no matter how busy I was, I kept thinking about you—our time at my parents' place, and how you always came to visit me when I was in the hospital."

He pauses, his fist clenching nervously.

"I’ve realized since then that maybe the reason why is because somehow…you've always been more than a friend to me,” he confesses softly.

Searching your face for a reaction, Taehyung mistakes your blank expression for discomfort. Little does he know, however, that your stillness is merely due to shock, as every nerve in your body threatens to awaken. It feels surreal, you think. Sure, you had a small inkling that tonight felt different and Taehyung was sweeter than usual, but eighty percent of you chalked it up as nothing more than overthinking or projection.

Now, you realize how short-sighted you’ve been, convincing yourself that you could only ever be friends and denying the rest when it's been quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry," he adds sheepishly. "It must be a lot to take in. I don’t want to lose you or our friendship, but with my feelings growing, I think I’ll always want more. I thought it would be better for you to know.”

You see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, and though he patiently waits for your response, you’re unsure where to start. It’s not that you question Taehyung’s genuineness or intentions, or that you don’t reciprocate his feelings—you haven’t shared such a deep connection with someone in a long time, if ever.

Rather, it’s the years of a mostly apathetic marriage that leave you feeling wary.

What would a relationship with Taehyung be like?

Would you truly love each other?

For how long?

What startles you most is the possibility that if you and Taehyung really do this and it doesn’t work out, you’ll be left even more devastated than before.

When you finally speak, your voice wavers slightly. “To tell you the truth, a big part of me is relieved that you told me all of this,” you admit slowly, your hands clammy. “I thought I sensed a shift between us at your parents' and again this evening. But I also thought I was reading too much into things, convinced it was just us getting closer as friends do."

"I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was wrong because I've been wanting more with you too," you continue. "It's like the further away we are, the worse I seem to feel, and I can't help but wonder what it would look like if we were more than friends. The thought scares me as much as it excites me, though…for reasons I'm sure you already know."

You're uneasy about how he'll react until, all at once, his eyes fill with warmth and his hands gently reach for yours, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the backs.

“Do you remember when we were at the beach and you asked who’d risk it for you?” Taehyung asks. You nod, recalling the exact moment. “You also asked if I loved you, and I agreed to both that day. I didn’t realize how much those words would come full circle, but I meant it then, and I mean it now. I will love you, __, in the way you've always meant to be. I'm pretty sure I'm at least halfway in love with you already, and not just because we're friends."

Wordless, you stand facing each other, your hands still held in his, eyes steady in the brisk night air. His gaze then drifts from your eyes to your lips and back again. The movement is subtle, but in that brief moment, you let your eyes fall to his lips as well.

Taehyung’s waiting for your answer, but you can’t stop thinking of what would happen if you just…

Adrenaline takes over from there, and before you fully process it, you’re leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The sudden touch catches Taehyung off guard, but he quickly responds with gentle, tender kisses. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he deepens the embrace, one hand finding its way to your face while the other rests on your back, pulling you closer.

Sooner than you realize, he begins deepening the kiss as well, eliciting small, breathy moans. At this point, you can feel the tent forming in his trousers, but he makes no move to grind into you yet. Rather, the hands that grip around you tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough that your body pushes further against his firmer chest. You suspect your back will meet the hard surface of your front door within the next three seconds, allowing your entire neighborhood a show, but before then, you're interrupted by a subtle stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"Wait, I'm sorry-" you suddenly break the kiss, a rush of nerves returning. It’s been a long time since you’ve shared such meaningful kisses with someone, and the intensity of it has you feeling overwhelmed. "I'm so sorry," you repeat.

When Taehyung sees you aren’t backing away but rather standing completely still, he settles his hands around your waist, gently drawing you further into a soft embrace. "You don't need to apologize," he assures. "I'm the one who took it further than I should've when I want this to be comfortable for both of us.”

You take a small breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, Tae, I'm just a little nervous due the newness of everything. I think I’d be best if we wait before going any further tonight….but I’m also not ready for you to leave yet. Is there any way you could maybe come in for a bit? To lounge?”

Taehyung nods, “I completely understand wanting to wait. The last thing I want to do is rush anything.” Concerned about possibly pressuring you, he adds, "Are you sure about me coming in though? It's getting late and I don't want to keep you up."

"Please," you murmur, "just for a little while, if you can.”

“Okay," he agrees, thumbs brushing lightly against your sides, "I can stay."

a/n: ajdfhg, TYSM for reading!! Love you all 🥰

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fairyhaos · 3 months ago

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how seventeen act with their writer s/o

requested by anon ^^

masterlist

seungcheol

he is begging. he is on his knees BEGGING you to pls let him buy you a new laptop because the one you use is literally on its last legs and makes ominous sputtering n whirring sounds like a dying cat stuck in a vent every time you start it up. you don't let him tho bc “no cheol the memories :(((“ cuz you've had it for years but he is nearing the end of his tether and who knows. in a few days ur laptop may mysteriously disappear forever and you'll be forced to let him buy a new one

jeonghan

he's like the pet cat you don't own who likes to slink into the room and make inquisitive noises as he watches you work. drapes himself over your shoulders and makes distressed huffs when you try to dislodge him. he's never usually noticeably clingy, but when you try to write, the clinginess always springs out and you can't go five minutes without jeonghan poking his head into the room to check up on you and see what you're up to

joshua

your biggest fan. buys every single novel you write, puts on his glasses, and reads them very seriously in one go on the very evening it's released with the lamp on beside him. he looks so serious every time, but he'll always peer at you over his glasses and then give you a big grin, telling you how much he loves it. gets you to sign a copy for him and brags to everyone he knows that he has your signed novels with special messages just for him that no one else can have

junhui

he's your personal general knowledge bank. when you're searching up obscure things and slowly losing hope on finding an answer, just ask junhui and he'll either a) know the answer or b) knows someone who knows someone else who knows someone else else who knows the answer. don't ask him how to spell words tho bc he's like. hopelessly bad. blinks at you going “what's an [insert word]” before you give up and google it yourself

hoshi

alwaysssss wants to know what you're working on right now. gets all whiny when you get possessive of your work and refuse to show him before it's finished bc come on, it's surely perfect already, why are you trying to hide it from him?? loves helping you do, like, the non writing stuff. writing out plot? nooo. building fantasy maps, figuring out political systems, getting lost on a tangent on figuring out the price of beans in the 1800s? hell yeah sign him up!!!

wonwoo

knows all the grammar rules in the world. you can ask him stuff like “hey wonwoo can i put a comma here or no” and he'll amble over to peer over your shoulder and tell you whether you can or cannot, in fact, put a comma there. helps you curate all your writing playlists for the different moods you have. gently reminds you to get back to writing whenever you end up scrolling on instagram for too long

woozi

you're even more of a workaholic than he is when in the zone, so he gets to realise how unhealthy it is to be sat in front of a computer for hours straight with no break. you get to act as each other's “let's act like a normal human being now” reminders, depending on which of you is going through a work fixation. you guys both go on runs together in the mornings even though it kills you bc at least it gets both of yo brains kickstarted to spend a day being all creative in ur respective fields

minghao

you value his opinion above anyone else's. above your beta reader's, above your agent's, even above your editor's bc those are more like advice, not opinions. but knowing that minghao likes your work, and knowing which parts in particular he really likes, is so important to you because ultimately, you want the person you love to also love the things that you create.

mingyu

brings up the fact that you're a writer in every conversation he has with anyone ever. “oh my god look, this menu has writing on it. speaking of writing, my s/o writes actual books as a job!!!!”. your agent made him sign a contract similar to an NDA bc he just keeps yapping about your books even when they haven't been released yet. loves the noises you make whilst you're writing. thinks it's the cutest thing ever when you make overjoyed “AHA!!” sounds when you finally realise what the plot is doing

dokyeom

more than willing to be your rubber duck and let you talk at him until u figure out your own plot holes. he could be in his room scrolling on his phone but the minute you call for him, he's leaping up and bounding over to you and pulling up a chair in an instant, more than willing to let you bounce ideas off him. sits there doing nothing but looking all pretty as you talk at him and work out the tangle you've gotten yourself into. beams and gives you a big kiss when you manage to figure it all out.

seungkwan

he buys you a biiiig wheely whiteboard and a bunch of coloured board pens to help you plot your novels. when you get stuck, he comes over and stares at the board with his hands on his hips, very gravely considering your dilemma and what would be the best way to get you out of it. you two talk about plot holes like it's the most serious thing in the world and he just nods like a proud father once you both find a solution

vernon

at this point he's like. a professional tea and coffee and biscuits supplier due to the amount of snack runs he does for you. has walked in on you lying face down on the floor during a meltdown one too many times to bat an eye anymore. also great at helping you block out actions during scenes like. he's the perfect doll. lets you maneuver him into the weirdest positions in the world with zero complaints. he just loves helping you however he can, really.

chan

reads through your drafts whilst you're in the middle of writing, accidentally gets hooked and is begging you every day to finish the novel bc he really wants to know what happens next. he's the best at spotting inconsistencies and plot holes in ur writing so before you even send it off to your beta reader, he gets to have his hands on the manuscript to check for any changes needed. also bc he needs to read the ending asap otherwise he'll probably combust.

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realcube · 5 months ago

Text

WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, fob, smut, vaginal, oral (recieving) & praise — minors dni

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

maybe you were overexaggerating a bit when you said that yamaguchi is always with tsukishima, because there are a couple times a week when you know they'll be apart.

your friend is a part of the college's newspaper club, and she mentioned that yamaguchi is a member too, but tsukishima isn't. this gave you the perfect opportunity to the catch him alone and prey on his weakest form.

you saunter up to the news room, and catch yamaguchi waiting outside. they don't usually enter until your friend, the chief editor, arrives. "excuse me?"

your voice is soft and inviting, hence yamaguchi is stunned when he turns to see you. his guard is up, but unlike tsukishima, he doesn't immediately resort to aggression, "yes?" he replies quietly.

"is this the newspaper society?" you ask innocently, tilting your head with a smile.

yamaguchi is unsure as to why you are being so mellow towards him, considering your history, but as he chokes back a gulp, he figures that maybe your negative sentiments are purely towards tsukishima and up until now he has just been caught in the crossfire.

"yes, this is. i'm waiting for the editor to get here."

"oh, hana?" your lips are parts slightly, as he nods, "she is my friend. i'm sure she won't mind if we just go in."

"are you sure?" his questions is basically answered as he watches you enter the news room. he hesitantly follows behind, thinking he can shift the blame onto you if the chief editor is upset.

"so, are you a member? i've never seen you here before." he asks while fidgeting with his hands, taking a seat in his usual spot.

"no, not yet. i want to join though which is why i'm here." you sit near yamaguchi, on the table, "but i hear you're full. could you put in a good word for me, tadashi?"

you giggle. bafflement and wary burn at his face, dusting his cheeks a slight pink, "if you're friends with hana then i'm sure you don't need me to talk you up to her."

"well, yeah, but she's reluctant to let me join because, in her words, i can be 'volatile and confrontational'." you muse, legs swinging lightly as you turn to look at yamaguchi with a knowing smirk, "i'm so not, though. you can vouch for me, right?"

yamaguchi blinks, then responds, "yeah. you're the most docile person i know."

you find it cute that he plays along with your jokes. plus, now that you're actually taking a good look at him, you realise he has such a sweet, squishable face. how does the sweetest boy ever end up in the company of lucifer incarnate?

"i wouldn't say docile. that's too far-fetched." you tease.

"mild?"

"eh."

"poise?"

"i like that one but still no."

"composed?"

"that could work!" you cheer, displaying the palm of your hand he insantly reciprocates with a high-five. just as your shared laughter begins to die down, hana and a couple other members of the newspaper society enter the room.

you spend the rest of the hour in the back of the room, working on an article with yamaguchi. your friend knew about your plan, and she didn't mind you utilising her society to achieve your end goal, but you'd hate to impede on her work flow for too long so you pulled out all the stops to ensure you gain tadashi's favour as quickly as possible.

and it worked like a charm. despite never having communicated directly with each other before, you chatted throughout the whole hour like you were lifelong best friends. there was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you — the sweet and sour.

plus, you both have a lot more in common than you may have initially thought. your music tastes are very similar, surprisingly, and you like the same movies/shows. he shows you a couple of his playlists and you do the same, discussing the concerts you've been to and what merchandise you have.

you learned that he is studying to be an electronic engineer while tsukishima is studying history, but he chose maths electives just so they could be in a couple of classes together. they also used to do volleyball together in highschool and are both apart of the volleyball society in college.

so corny and so cheesy but coming from the mouth of yamaguchi, it was the sweetest, most moving story of friendship you've ever heard.

even when meeting ended, you both still walked together out of the building, blathering away about anything and everything, it comes to an abrupt holt when you reach the building's exit.

perplexed, yamaguchi asks, "which way are you going? if you want, i could walk you to your bus stop?"

you smile awkwardly, pretending to be sheepish about the proposition despite it being exactly what you anticipated, "i would love that. but i don't think tsukishima would be too delighted to see us together."

yamaguchi frowns at the reminder but nods.

"but," you continue, pulling a pen and scrap piece of paper from your bag and hurriedly jotting something down, "you can ring me if you ever want to talk. or anything else." you hand it to him with a wink and yamaguchi's throat dies up at your suggestion, he is barely able to croak out an 'okay'.

"see you later!" you skip off and yamaguchi is left speechless behind.

ೃ⁀➷

you had warmed up to each other very quickly. texting each other videos, emojis and pictures every other minute. didn't even take two days before you both had a shared playlist. you were up until ungodly hours of the night facetiming each other.

it was so frequent, yamaguchi had to change your contact information to a fake name because he was getting tired of constantly having to hide his phone from tsukishima, since there was bound to be a notification from you on his screen.

"are you gonna buy tickets tonight???" "noooo don't remind me tadashi" "what's the matter ???😧" "wi-fi sucks at my houseee. i never get concert tickets on time. always end up paying resale prices 😤" "you can come to mine if you want! my wifi is good"

you took him up on his offer. you went over to his dorm at 10PM, since tickets when on sale at 11PM in your time zone. (darn international artists!)

it was a blood-bath but by the grace of god you both successfully secured two tickets to see your favourite artist performing live, with seats very close to the stage!

so of course you had to celebrate somehow.

shaky breathes escaped his lips, soft moans intertwined. his shirt had come off, exposing his tan skin to the hot atmosphere of his bedroom. hypnotised by the way your tight cunt sucked needily on his cock, dripping cum all over his bare shaft.

his gaze was only freed from your sex when he was nearing his climax and a sudden bolt of ecstasy wracked through him, causing his eyes to roll back, "so tight, (y/n)." he grunted, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.

he had you sprawled out over his bed face down, while he stood by the edge and fucked you from behind. he gave you a pillow to rest your cute head on so your neck wouldn't hurt, and he held your legs by his sides while he ploughed into you. four years of volleyball practise has its uses.

his pace is relentless but rhythmic; at first he fucked you leisurely, allowing you to appreciate every inch of him as he'd pull out of you excruciatingly slowly, then ease himself back in until his achy tip prodded your cervix. he wasn't doing it to torment you though, just to give you some time to grow accustomed to his length.

it was better that way; your desperate pussy welcomed him instead of trying to force him out. in fact, it clung to him so tightly it was challenging for him to pull out of you, somehow he managed.

as he approached his orgasm, his thrusts became hurried and sloppy, raring to spill inside your sopping pussy. but ever the altruist, he slips his fingers between your legs to press and rub at your clit fervently, "close, baby?"

his cock splits in you half, and your pussy throbs around him. the power with which he rams into you has made you hazy, drooling mess, only able to weakly buck your hips in reciprocation to his thrusts. you try to whine a meek 'yes' but your face is buried in the pillow, thus yamaguchi only hears an unclear, muffled noise.

he furrows his brows and moves his hands up to your waist, "'m gonna flip you over, yeah?" he pants, still fucking you as he talks, "wanna see that pretty face." in a surge of strength and energy, he pulls you off the bed and flips you onto your back, offering you a gentle smile when you lock eyes.

you weakly smile back, about the only autonomy you could exhibit while his cock continued to pound into you, moulding your walls around him. you were losing control of yourself with each thrust; clinging to the sheets and allow a string of lewd moans and profanities spill from your mouth. somewhere in the mix there was his name.

"tadashi.."

your eyes were closed, and your melodious voice called out for him to save you, like he wasn't tucked inside you. hearing you say his name like that — so filthy and obscene — delighted him in ways he didn't know were possible and only urged him closer to his climax. "(y/n), say that again, please."

the wet slapping noises he made against your cunt grew louder; it was a miracle you could still hear his pastel voice. being railed into the plush sheets of his bed, your mind and body were in two different realms, so when you tried to utter his name once more, all that came out was a series of moans and gasps.

"c'mon, (y/n)." he pled, gripping onto your hips like you are his life force, "i need you. be a good girl for me, please."

he punctuated each word with a harsh thrust, brushing your cervix each time and it didn't take much else for you to come crash down around him. spasming and twitching on his dick, your scream echoing through the room while he fucked you through it. your throbbing pussy still being used for his pleasure.

even when you were nearing completion, your pussy still fluttered around him and you squealed, "tadashi!" as the world became hazy and blurred around you.

which was enough to send him hurdling over the edge too. his teeth are gritted together and his hands tense on your waist when he cums inside you. his thrusts waver for only a moment before he temporarily resumes, this time with less vigour and with the sole purpose of milking himself dry inside you.

once he could feel his hot cum packed safely within your walls, he was finally able to gasp for air. he doesn't want to pull out, he's comfortable as he is, but the curious part of him wants to see how his load looks inside you.

he pulls out, only to kneel and examine your glistening hole. too fucked out and sore, you lay on the bed and try to catch your breath, allowing him to push your legs wide open without protest.

"so pretty." he mused, watch as a bit of his cum dribbles out of your pussy and onto your ass. not to worry though, as he uses his two fingers to guide it back inside you. idly, he pushes his fingers inside you and revels at how tight you still are.

"you're perfect." without thinking about it, he curls his fingers inside, then delicately drags them in and out, wrenching a feeble whine from your throat. "do you know how perfect you are?"

he pressed a loving kiss against your clit before poking his head up from between your legs to look at you. "mm" is all you respond with. he chuckles, "that's not a yes or no, baby."

he doesn't dwell on it too long. he'll stop bothering you now by trying to get you to respond to him; you're probably still recovering from your intense orgasm. yamaguchi goes back to admiring your hole, captivated by how his cum has filled you up, and whenever it tries to escape but it is prevented from doing so by his fingers.

"you look so beautiful like this. i wanna burn this image into my brain so i can keep it forever." he kisses your pussy again, french this time. his lips move graciously against your folds and his tongue plunges inside you. you taste so good, so intoxicating, he moans into your skin, the vibrations causing you to gasp. he continues to suck and lick inside your puckered hole, until he gets a taste of himself on his tongue, which causes him to falter and slowly pull away.

"i've never had sex with a girl on the pill before. but this was just.." he can't seem to find the word he's looking for. perhaps it doesn't exist. "amazing. well, that doesn't even cover half of it." he grins foolishly, caressing the inside of your thigh and still gazing at your hole.

"yeah." after lying motionless for a while, you seem to have finally come back down to earth and can form full sentences again. "amitriptyline is great, isn't it?"

"uhuh.." he muses, thinking about how gorgeous you look until what you said finally registers in head and he springs to his feet, "what!?"

#haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi smut #haikyuu smut #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x y/n #kei tsukishima x reader #👾nsfw

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honeytonedhottie · 6 months ago

Text

extra self care routine⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍦

this 8 step self care routine is meant to be super DUPER over the top but its intended more so to make u feel like the goddess that u are and to simply pamper, and spoil urself as u should...plus you'll smell like a cupcake after 🎀

warning, LONG post ahead but thats because i tried to be thorough and clear on the steps of this 8-step routine.✨🧁

STEP ONE ; ICING UR FACE

the benefits of facial icing include more radiant skin, helps with spider lines, and blemish control. if u wanna know more about icing ur face i recommend u read this.

but typically you'll fill up a bowl with some water and ice and dunk ur face in the ice in 60 second intervals (thats how i like to do it) or you take an ice cube and run that on ur skin.

STEP TWO ; OILING UR HAIR

i personally dont recommend oiling ur hair overnight, once u apply ur hair oil into ur hair let it sit for 30 minutes - 4 hours depending on how much time u have on ur hands, but if ur gonna do the 8 step self care ritual i would assume u had some time.

use the scalp massaging tool for blood flow to ur head and MASSAGE. imagine all of ur stress seeping out of ur body. it might sound strange, but when im doing this step i imagine myself rearranging and organizing my thoughts 💀.

while ur doing this whole routine i recommend playing an affirmation tape in the background, or ur favorite playlist. 🧁

STEP THREE ; MASKS

next i'll use a spray bottle and wet my hair before going in with my hair mask, and once thats in ur hair use the claw clip to keep ur hair up and out of ur face.

now its time for the facial mask and i recommend keeping kind of an ARSENAL of masks, whether its a liquid or clay mask or sheet masks just have them on u because i usually do face masks of any sort 1-2 times a week for my LUSTROUS glow.

while u have the hair and face masks in, its a good time to do some dry brushing to remove dead skin cells and improve blood circulation. some other masks that u can do to be EXTRA are lip masks and under eye masks.

STEP FOUR ; IN THE SHOWER

wash ur hair as you would usually do, use the body scrub before using a body wash that has similar tones to the body scrub (this is called scent layering) and while in the shower i recommend to do a shower meditation.

if y'all r interested i'll make a shower meditation guide and u can record ur own voice doing the meditation so u can use it ✨

while ur in the shower make sure to be meticulous and take ur time while u wash ur body. do double cleansing so that u can ensure that you're squeaky clean.

now is also the time to shave if u like to do that and remember use a body scrub BEFORE u shave and once ur out of the shower to use a body oil to prevent ingrowns and to just have a smoother shave in general.

STEP FIVE ; OUT OF THE SHOWER

use ur body oil and ur body lotion, this kind of goes along with the before bed slugging notion which gives the SOFTEST most amazing skin in the morning so i highly recommend it.

HOT TIP FROM HONEY ; using a warmed up towel adds to the whole spa experience so i def recommend that, warming up towels/blankets/robes makes me feel so cozy and toasty 🧋✨

the formula for before bed slugging is (body oil + body lotion + a thick body butter/cream)

STEP SIX ; REPAIR AND REPLENISH

once your out of the shower and you’ve slugged ur body, use a leave in conditioner to repair and soothe damaged hair.

use a face milk

cuticle oil

now’s the time to use pimple patches

and things of that nature in general

this ensures that ur being absolutely meticulous and replenishing ur body the proper way. taking care of ur base so that u can make it absolutely GLOW ✨

STEP SEVEN ; FACIAL MASSAGE

use a gua sha and any other facial massage tools to help blood circulation and just be EXTRA. to sculpt ur face like the goddess you are.

facial massage stimulates blood circulation, promoting oxygen flow and nutrient delivery to the skin cells. facial massage helps to release the tension held in the facial muscles, alleviating stress lines and promoting a more youthful appearance.

AND if ur consistent with facial massage, you'll can enhance skin elasticity AND diminish fine lines.

STEP EIGHT ; YOGA AND STRETCHES

nothing feels better then massaging and stretching stiff limbs, especially if u have pains or aches in ur body. look up a follow along, super light, yoga routine or a stretching routine.

i think that a rly good stretch is the perfect way to end ur super duper over the top 8 step self care routine 💗🎀

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR NINETEEN

in which everything changes.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (p in v), almost shower sex, talk of male masturbation, oral (f receiving), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.7k+

→ a/n: big shout out to @myosotisa for beta-reading this chapter so that for once, it's not unedited, and it's not just between me and god.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

19:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

DINGUS: so either these two are getting along REALLY well or they truly still hate each other’s guts

NANCE: Why do you say that?

DINGUS: when i called to make sure they weren’t dead, it sounded like they were arguing over the line.

BIRDIE: woah woah woah, hold on. dingus. are you telling me you just SPIED on the lovebirds? or did this ‘fight’ happen during your conversation?

DINGUS: it wasn’t spying! eddie answered and rushed off the line, but it sounded like he forgot to hang up. i was just… curious.

NANCE: No, you were SPYING on them.

ARGYLE 😎: what did they say, dude?

BIRDIE: yeah let’s drop the morality bullshit – what’d you hear, my lovely oblivious spy?

DINGUS: @BIRDIE NOT A SPY.

DINGUS: but it just sounded like eddie asking her if she was, and i quote, “fucking kidding him”. He sounded weird when he was talking to me, too.

BIRDIE: the most romantic words to ever be spoken. truly.

NANCE: Was that all you heard?

DINGUS: yeah, i hung up after that. why?

ARGYLE 😎: should’ve stayed on the line.

BIRDIE: what he said.

JOHNNY BOY: Do you people have no morals?

HOUR NINETEEN – 10:00 AM

It becomes glaringly obvious to you that your comment had been a little too spot on after several minutes of waiting for Eddie to return.

You hadn’t expected him to really leave you high and dry after that, to just go and take care of himself rather than include you in that process. Honestly, you thought the two of you were finally past hiding behind closed doors. But clearly, you had been wrong. Very, very wrong. And now, the consequences of your own actions were mocking you; there was an insistent, uncomfortable, unignorable burn in the pit of your stomach, and every shift of your thighs that had your underwear grazing your clit had you desperate, nearly mewling and arching your back. The longer you laid on that couch and realized what Eddie was currently doing, the more hot and bothered you grew.

Fuck him. You’re about ten seconds away from taking care of your own problem right here, right now, on this god forsaken couch.

Your ears perk involuntarily for any and all noises that may come from the hallway, but five minutes of silence tells you that Eddie had learned his lesson. He wasn’t going to be loud again.

Fuck him.

At least if he was falling apart by his own hand, he should have the decency to let you hear such, obviously. If he was going to finish what the two of you started alone with just him and his hand and the polished porcelain of his bathroom, you would have at least appreciated something to get you going, to urge your imagination to roam free through a conglomeration of both fantasies and memories. But, no – the man was so silent, you were beginning to fear he might be dead.

Maybe he was dead. Death by blue balls. Good. Fuck him.

Your thighs squeeze together once more of their own free will, and you throw your head back violently to groan at the persistent throbbing. You couldn’t even be angry at him, not in a genuine sense, because you had insisted on talking rather than continuing whatever Deftones had started. What a dumb, idiotic, catastrophic decision. What a painful hill to die on. What a shit move on your part.

It doesn’t take long before you make the choice to stop laying there, wallowing in your misery. If you weren’t going to take care of your problem, and if you were regretting your choices so desperately, you were an adult. He was down the hall, he was here for now, and there was nothing stopping you from just marching up to the door. This wasn’t anything like the beginning hours – the man had seen you bare before him far too many times for you to be shy. He had just been dry humping you like some teenager on his couch.

No, you didn’t need to have shame right now. At least, not for these last five hours.

You get up quick enough to make yourself dizzy, swinging your legs and making the soles of your feet connect with the living room floor with resounding slaps. A bit aggressive, and it might startle whoever had the displeasure of living below Eddie, but you don’t care. You have a one track mind, and you force your body into action before you can chicken out.

You have him. At some wild capacity, the man behind the bathroom door is yours. Whether it be temporary, whether it had started before this night or would last beyond this experience, it was still a matter of fact. You have him – God, you have him so tightly that you don’t even doubt you’re the one on his mind right now as he does what you’re sure he’s doing behind this door – and it was time to accept that he has you.

He has had you for a while, you realize a few steps away from the bathroom. The moment he had you laughing at his side in some smokey bar all those moons ago, he had first caught you in his web. You hate that it took this long, that it took this moment that should be laced with embarrassment, to let it all settle into acceptance. Like rubble of a destroyed building, the dust is clearing and all you can see is him. Him, with his stupid fucking dimples. Him, with his wide shoulders. Him, with all his twisted words and confusing actions. He’s had you in his grasp – it’s the only way anyone would have been able to get under your skin like he has this past year.

“Eddie?” you call out as you rap your knuckles on that wooden door, a few too many times for good measure. Your ears strain now that you’re closer, thinking you might catch subtle sounds out of him. Heavy breaths, slick skin, mute whimpers. Anything.

You get nothing for a solid ten seconds.

And then, you hear him clearing his throat, obnoxiously so, before answering, “Y-Yeah?”

Unsure. He’s stuttering, and the footing of his words is unstable. You were fucking right.

“Are you…” you start, pinching your eyes shut, shooing away that internal wave of heat as your mind runs wild and imagines him behind the door. The way he’d be naked, the way his fist would curl around the base of his cock, the way his tip has never failed to be the exact same shade of pink as his lips- “Are you still alive in there?”

Because I’m certainly not out here.

“Oh, me?” he chuckles nervously, “Yeah, I-I’m good. Sorry, just got distracted!”

By what? you nearly call in response, your dick in your hands?

You don’t say it outloud. You have some restraint.

“That’s fine…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you should say all while biting your tongue.

Your mind is still reeling for a possible ending for that thought when Eddie calls out, “I’m gonna take a shower, ‘s all. You cool with that?”

No. No, I’m not fucking cool with that.

“Oh!” you squeak out instead, “Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s fine. Sorry, I’ll just…”

You trail off again as you begin to take a few steps back from the door, making your way back to the living room painstakingly slowly. You’ve hardly moved an inch when you hear the shower turn on inside the bathroom, stuttering a few times as the water begins its flow, static rising from the way it splatters into the tub.

And then it turns off. Mere seconds later, as quickly as the flow of water had begun, the creaking in the pipes cease. You take another step back until your back bumps into the wall of the hallway, across and veered away from the bathroom door – the throbbing between your thighs still irritating and your confusion even more palpable.

Wasn’t he going to take a shower? Did he just turn it on to get you to walk away? Were you hallucinating just how quickly the seconds were passin-

The bathroom door is suddenly thrown open with Eddie in the middle of calling out your name, those pajama pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The moment his eyes land on your, his beckoning for you dies in his throat before he has to clear it. “Oh. Uh, hey.”

Why were you both being so fucking awkward?

“Hi,” you breathe out, pressing further into the wall. You felt like a child being caught doing wrong, as if he hadn’t been aware of your proximity to the door just moments before.

Maybe he was going to find it creepy that you had lingered for so long, and were still so close. You don’t know – you can’t think clearly as you look at the bare skin of his chest and try to decipher whether the moisture gathered there is sweat or condensation from the steam of the shower.

“Sorry, I just-” he cuts himself off this time before a hand reaches up to his hair, now down and unfurled around his shoulders. His palm presses back his bangs and you can see the moment that all the tension of awkwardness finally snaps, “Oh, fuck this. Do you want to shower with me?”

Once it snaps for him, you feel your own clinging to it release. It slips from between your fingers slowly, and you come to the realization that there’s no heat emitting from the bathroom behind him – that moisture wasn’t from steam, he didn’t even have the water on long enough for it to get that hot. You should have realized that immediately, but your mind was working slowly through the fog.

“You don’t have to,” you hadn’t answered him fast enough, and you’re watching him backpedal right before your eyes.

A quick shake of your head and the smile that splits your lips stops all of his backwards movements, makes his head tilt to the side and a smirk graces his features when you finally reply, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He shifts to the side of the doorway naturally, leaving just enough room for you to brush past him and let your shoulder knock slightly against his chest once you push off the wall eagerly.

There’s still a puddle of water at the base of the tub, circling the drain as Eddie closes the door behind your entrance. It’s a bit redundant considering you’re the only two here, but you don’t say a word. You just let your eyes trace over the droplets of water racing down his shower curtain, properly focus in on his toothbrush on the sink and the tube of toothpaste beside it curled up over half the length.

It hits you all at once, how this game of tension is so ridiculous. “We’re so stupid.”

Eddie is shocked by your snort, “Excuse me?”

“We’re stupid,” you repeat yourself, “Why are we acting like middle schoolers who just held hands? You’ve seen me naked, for fucks sake. We’ve-” you cut off and turn to him abruptly, waving your hands wildly in the space between you two, “We’ve already crossed this line a million times, Eddie. And we just… it’s like, we keep putting one foot on the other side of it, dip our toes into it, and then take it back when it’s all said and done.”

A boring dance. The two of you were taking part in the most boring dance of tension the world had ever seen, and only the four walls of Eddie’s apartment had the pleasure of being audience to it.

You expect his laughter to come out in a bark, but it’s subtle instead, face relaxing in realization at what you mean, “Jesus. I- I mean, you’re right. But does that make us stupid? I think it’s kinda cute, personally.”

“Cute?” you lurch forward ever so slightly, grinning with your teeth. Eddie’s eyes squint up a bit from how widely he grins in return at your amusement, “What about this is cute?”

“The way you keep getting so nervous around me,” Eddie shrugs, killing off the distance between you as he moves in front of you. You straighten up quickly, and he’s fast to tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “The way I keep getting so nervous around you.”

“That’s not cute, that’s just… stupid.”

“Same thing.”

“It definitely isn’t.”

You’re close enough to kiss him. And you realize easily that this may be your favorite place in the world, toe-to-toe with him and nearly brushing noses, feeling each breath like a huff of wind on the highs of your cheekbones.

“Agree to disagree,” he whispers before his lips duck down to yours. The hand that had tucked away your strands of hair had never left your face, you realize, palm now cupping your cheek as he tugs you closer to him.

Warmth spreads across your chest, brings spring to all the vines you’ve been catering to for a year now. Being able to step back and call this for what it was, ridiculous, makes it all a bit easier to bear.

It’s just his lips against yours, the shower not even running yet, the gasps that emit from both of you serving as a white noise instead.

“Is this,” he breaks away from you, only pulling back his lips and leaving his forehead resting against yours with his hand still curled on your cheek, “still stupid?”

“Even more so,” you nod and he moves his head with yours, almost making you laugh more, “So, so stupid.”

More kisses are exchanged, wandering hands trying to find new curves on the other’s body, before Eddie goes through the motions of turning his shower back on. You notice that from the looks of it, he does turn it on as hot as it can get. It occurs to you that these are small details you’d like to know – how hot he prefers his showers, whether he prefers to take them in the morning or at night, what scent of body wash he swears by – and that you only had so much time to learn the answer to not even half of your curiosities.

Time. Time was not on your side.

“You know,” you drawl as Eddie finally kicks off his pants, you soon following his lead as if this was nothing. Because it wasn’t. The two of you had been naked before each other. You weren’t two middle schoolers who had just shared a first kiss or held hands – you were two adults who had had sex, who had admitted to being attracted to each other if nothing more, “You never did say what you’re actually doing with the money.”

“Again with that conversation?” Eddie asks, pausing with his thumbs hooked in the band of his boxers.

“Again,” you affirm, tossing your shirt into the same corner that his pants had been discarded, “Can you blame me for being curious? Aren’t you curious what I’m doing with my money?”

He thinks for a second as you strip off your underwear, leaving you completely naked first. “I mean, I sort of am.”

“College,” you supply easily. You don’t even wait for him to properly ask. He purses his lips and you catch the way his eyes sweep over your nude body quickly before he yanks off his last article of clothing, “College, and then all my debt. Then maybe I can start saving like a real adult. Move to some fancy city once I graduate. Make a…” you pause and make a conscious effort to not let your eyes wander as his had, “Make a real life for myself, I guess.”

“You sound so excited.”

He’s being sarcastic, you know it, but it begs the question – were you excited about the prospective? All you had ever known was school. Your entire personality has been built thus far on being a student.

So what comes next? Settling into some boring nine to five job that hardly satisfies the dreams that were born of your major? Getting underpaid, getting bored with monotony but telling yourself you were satisfied?

And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the bigger questions of the future. You haven’t even spared a thought to kids, to getting married, to life past the next two years.

“I mean… I am,” you shrug and step into the shower first, Eddie following close behind you and listening intently, “It’ll be nice to finally have the damn piece of paper to say ‘hey! I did it!’”

“But?” he presses, scooting the two of you around in the small space so that he was standing directly beneath the spray of water. His curls flatten against his head immediately.

“No buts,” you insist. As if you’re trying to convince yourself more of it than him.

“So that’s all? You just want to get out of here?” he isn’t looking at you as he reaches for a bottle of shampoo, blinking water out of his eyes.

This conversation is going surprisingly well.

“Not here specifically,” you clarify. Your chest aches at the thought of just leaving behind all the friends you’d made, the life you had started in this city. The thought of already beginning to preemptively tear it down was enough to dampen your mood worse than the steam of the shower was doing to your hair, “I don’t know. Who cares about the future? What are you doing with your money?”

He’s about to squirt some of the shampoo into the palm of his hand when you suddenly snatch it from him, holding up a finger and twirling it in a demanding manner. He’s shocked, but he turns for you regardless, even bending his knees as he gets the message.

He doesn’t question the fact that you’re about to wash his hair. No protests towards something so domestic between previously sworn enemies.

“I wasn’t lying earlier,” he starts just as you have lathered up your palms and set aside the shampoo on the shower ledge, fingertips digging right into his scalp. Even with the slight bend in his posture, your arms have to stretch to reach the crown of his head, “A new bike or guitar would be nice but– Oh,” a particular scratch of your nails has him faltering in his words, throwing his head back a bit more and humming. The throb, the ache, the burn returns. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Keep talking, pretty boy,” you murmur as he hums even louder.

“Well, I… It’s not a lot of money, y’know? I mean, it is. But it also isn’t. Am I making any sense? Fuck, that feels good,” he stumbles across his point as your fingers continue small circles, and you already know without looking that his eyes have fluttered shut.

The pit of your stomach can only rally, twisting and tumbling at his satisfaction. Something so domestic and something you had started with sweet intentions was quickly derailing, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

You have him. But you don’t have him. The same type of conundrum he faces with the amount of money promised to the both of you if you were to survive these hours.

“You’re making sense,” you promise with a shy grin you know he can’t see, “Like, I know the money won’t pay off all my debts or college tuition, but it’s a good start. Anyways, as you were saying?”

Both of you struggle to focus as he continues on, melting even further into your touch, “I dunno. Maybe if I have anything leftover, I’ll send it to my uncle.”

His voice is strained as he’s occupied with the feeling of your hands against his scalp, and you know it’s a throwaway sentence, but the small detail of his life you’ve been awarded doesn’t go unnoticed.

Uncle? Why uncle?

“You in debt to your uncle over a bad night of gambling or somethin’?” you try to joke as you finally release your fingertips from his scalp. Your palms come down on his shoulders as you spin him slowly, encouraging him to keep his head tipped back as he lets the water wash away the suds produced.

Surprisingly, his shampoo doesn’t smell like boy. It’s akin to green apples, maybe something smoother beneath it all like coconut. Something sweet and something innocent.

Maybe that’s what has him being so open to you as he explains, “I’ll always be in debt to him, but not for gambling. He raised me. My folks… weren’t the best. I owe everything to that man.”

There are no good words to respond with. You suddenly feel selfish for pushing him to admit it, and for making that joke to begin with.

But he only cracks open his eyes as the suds are mostly gone, looking at you through squinty eyes as he grins, “Guess I’m the boner killer now, huh?”

You snort again (fuck, had he always been this funny?) and shake your head, finally glimpsing below his hips.

Ironic of him to say that he was a boner killer when there he was, harder than ever for you, tip pink and glistening in a taunt towards you.

You were both going to Hell. You were standing in his shower, talking about his uncle, both far too horny for the topic of conversation.

“Modern day Bonnie and Clyde, but make it horny,” you manage to get out, still staring at him and resisting the urge to reach out and start something you didn’t know how to finish, “Does talking about money always get you this hard?”

“Bonnie and Clyde were robbers, not killers,” he corrects you, “And why, yes. How did you know? Do you plan to use this lethal information against me again later?”

A cavern in your chest screams out, when is later? Later within the next four hours, or later within the next year? Will you ever even give me a chance to use this against you again?

You laugh along with his joke instead.

“Absolutely. Also, who the fuck knows that much about Bonnie and Clyde?”

You make him turn around again, and repeat a similar process with the conditioner. The entire time, you try to not think about the awareness that the same burn in your own gut is alight in him.

He shrugs a little, bends a little more to encourage your fingertips back to his scalp. It doesn’t work — you’re focusing the conditioner on the drier ends of his curls. “I do.”

“Well, that’s just weird.”

You work in silence as you finish threading the conditioner through and detangling his hair with just your fingers. You don’t immediately have him rinse it out, and he takes the opportunity to reward you with the same care, the same domesticity. And just as he hadn’t questioned you, you don’t protest when he manhandles you to spin and face your back to him. You let him indulge you in the same massaging motions that you had just pampered him with, let suds of that sweetness surround you as your eyes shut delicately and you lean your head back into his deliberate touches.

Same care, same domesticity, same sensuality. You never thought washing someone’s hair could be something so intimate until his knuckles are between your locks and your back is brushing up against his chest due to limited space.

“It’s not about the money,” he randomly announces to you once the shampoo has been rinsed out and the conditioner takes its place. “I mean, I figured you knew that, but… still thought I’d say.”

“Figured as much.”

“I also wasn’t pissing,” he continues to overshare, “I know you figured as much there too.”

Biting your bottom lip to hold back a grin, you keep the rest of your face relaxed as you nonchalantly ask, “No? What distracted you, then?”

You can feel every deep breath he takes. The expansion of his chest only presses the two of you closer. Soon, you should both rinse out the conditioner. You should stop wasting water. The two of you should get out of this damn confining space and sleep, do something useful, make the most of the final four hours.

Instead, you’re letting yourself get lost in billows of steam, and teasing him. And maybe that’s something useful for you.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

You can hear his grin. God, you can hear his grin and those stupid dimples making an appearance without needing to see his face.

“Say what?” you ploy faux innocence. His fingers are still in your hair. He has no reason to continue to comb them through, but they remain there, grazing your scalp and brushing the back of your neck.

His chin meets your shoulder suddenly, his breath on your ear. “What did you call this earlier, sweetheart? I believe you called it… stupid.”

Right. Stupid.

Stupid was the ache that resided inside you for him. Stupid was the way your thighs shook from how hard they pressed together from each soft caress of his breath on the shell of your ear. Stupid was the urge to reach your arm around your back and grab onto him, any part of him, and try to pull him as closely as humanly possible — and then some.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You’re a bad liar. And he loves it.

“Right,” he draws out the single syllable, hands leaving your hair, drifting at sea as they find comfort on your biceps, touch feather light, “You have no idea what I was doing in here. You weren’t staying by the door to see if you could hear me, trying to get a free show.”

So you had been right in calling the two of you stupid. Neither of you had been very conspicuous.

“A free show to what?” you keep up the act of innocence and swallow down the delighted hun when his hands move down your arms. You’re fully flush to his chest now, almost to the point of leaning your weight back against him.

“To me touching myself to you,” bold, crass words leave his lips, “To me fucking my fist to the thought of you. Squeezing my fist around my cock, trying to make it feel like that sweet pussy.”

Your knees nearly buckle. You try to play it cool, “Oh? Is that what you were doing?”

His playful chuckle is the final straw, and his hands now on your waist are the only thing keeping you upright.

“I was.”

“And were you successful?”

How you kept your tone so steady, so even, was lost on you.

“I wasn’t.”

One hand stays planted on your waist firmly, as if he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing in this heat between the two of you. The other dares to round to the front of your stomach, fingers splayed and fingertips almost tickling you as he lets them run down the center of your navel. He’s taking his time. Slowly, painfully, his hand travels. Down, down, down. Until his fingertips are grazing right over that fire he built inside you, mere inches from where you need him to touch you most. He has you right where he wants you, and he knows it.

And so he stops. Inches, maybe less, from where your cunt is throbbing for him.

“Didn’t you say you were good with your fingers?” you’re trying to keep up a cool facade, but it’s becoming useless at this point. Your voice comes out a whine, and your hips subtly buck against empty air to try to encourage his touch lower.

“I did,” he hums directly into your ear. The hand on your waist becomes an arm fully wrapped around your front, and the press of your back to his chest becomes far more intentional. All of it to hold you in place as he moves his hand right over where you want him. He avoids your body’s pleas, and jumps straight to teasing his fingertips over the tops of your thighs. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

It’s almost funny to remember how flustered he was when he’d first made the comment, how quick he had been to defend it against being something dirtier, only to now be using it against you in anything but an innocent context.

“Please,” the beg falls from your lip as you give up on the game.

It’s a combination of all his gentle touches, the feeling of his curls between your knuckles, the steam that is smothering the two of you without notice, the way you can still feel every damn breath of his. Both through his mouth now softly kissing at the lobe of your ear, and his chest that only presses more tightly to you. That tightening arm around your waist, and the subtle change of position of his knee.

You aren’t expecting it, and your feet slide apart quickly, nearly dropping onto his sweetly placed leg between yours.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You can’t even recall the feeling of hatred you used to get at the nickname. Now, in its place, is something buzzing, something buttery, something contradictory. You’re dizzy with satisfaction from the way he murmurs it directly into your ear.

“Please touch me,” you gasp when his knee brushes upwards, not quite reaching where you need him. You swear there’s a pulse now, a throbbing cry that would do just about anything to feel those hands on you, “Please, please.”

You’re losing focus as your thoughts start to fuzz at the edges, suddenly only able to manage the words please and his name.

And it isn’t lost on him. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already going so dumb for me, aren’t you?”

Your stomach churns, everything in you tightens, and your pride isn’t above dropping yourself down properly onto his knee and grinding. You would if you could — his fucking arm won’t let you.

When you glance down, you realize just how tight his grip is. You can trace each vein along his forearm, catch the white of his knuckles as they curl against you.

He’s holding onto you for dear life, and yet his death grip doesn’t so much as hurt. You only feel safe, you only feel wanted.

“Please just touch me, Eddie,” you whimper out, not caring about how desperate you sound anymore. You have no shame, no pride, no careful calculations left for the man behind you.

His hands stop their dance across the apex of your thighs. One moment, you can barely feel his fingertips running over their softness, and the next, it vanishes completely.

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a gasp as his fingers are suddenly on your cunt, spreading you apart at a leisurely pace. You move to grab onto his forearm for leverage but he suddenly tsks and stops all of his movements.

“You can either have me touch you, or you touch me. But you can’t have both, sweetheart. Not right now.”

Through the haze, you’re unable to use your words to answer, instead cracking your eyes back open and trying to crane your neck to see Eddie properly. But he’s only chuckling into your ear again, arm around your waist tightening.

“C’mon, baby. Use your words. Which would you rather have?” he taunts, tilting his chin down and letting his nose nuzzle against the peak of your shoulder, lips barely brushing the skin.

You would have expected to not even catch the subtle feeling of plushness on you right now between your ever-growing frustration and the water still raining down on both of you. But you do; your body is growing acutely aware of every single point of contact between the two of you as the minutes go on. Every inch of your skin is tuned into his touch and where it flows, where it leaves you, where it presses deeper.

You open your mouth to respond to him, but you can’t. You can’t explain it: there isn’t a tightness in your throat, a pain grasp on your chest, a fear that is swallowing the words whole. It’s the opposite. All of your taut strings have gone slack, waves of surrendering to him having overcome all of your deepest anxieties. In this moment, amongst the white noise of a shitty apartment shower, all that there exists is him. The time limit slips away, the bet is a thing of the past, and the road taken to bring you both here is completely forgotten.

His touch is able to remain light when he decides to turn you in his arm, the grip once around your waist now pressing into your lower back as you face him. You’re completely malleable for him to do as he wishes.

Facing him, you watch all of the amusement and cockiness melt away from his features. His smirk goes soft and his face falls in awe, mouth parted as he takes in that look in your eyes. He knows. He knows that in this moment, you are completely defenseless and utterly his.

You watch all the air leave his lungs, and feel the consequential breath that releases hit the bridge of your nose due to the proximity. “You really are cock drunk for me right now, aren’t you? I haven’t even given it to you yet and you’re just… gone.”

If you weren’t completely under his spell at this moment, you would have burned with embarrassment down to the bone.

You just nod.

With this revelation, his grip on you completely transforms. It’s not just a matter of keeping you upright, but a matter of keeping you tethered to him. As if he’s afraid that the moment he lets go, he loses you.

If you could find the words, you’d assure him that he wouldn’t. You weren’t something so fleeting, so passing.

Without words, all you can do is show him. So you press up onto your tip-toes and kiss him. Hard, then soft. Fervently, then patiently. Achingly, and then assuredly. Every flash of contradiction between the two of you and all that has accumulated goes into the kiss as you let him find his breath again, solely by stealing yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips, before his nose rubs against the tip of yours as it begins a journey. Across your cheek, down your jaw, into the crook of your neck. You feel spouts of warm water trickle over his collarbones and against your own.

This time, you do have the words for him. Or rather, the word for him.

“You.”

There’s no other way to put it. You just want him.

He pulls back and stares directly into your eyes, his own brown ones swarming with varied emotions. You’re finally able to start deciphering some of them – lust, want, surprise – but not quite all of them yet.

Before you realize what’s happening, he’s sinking to his knees. Somehow, he’s twisted you so that your back meets the cool tile of the wall, careful in watching the way it supports you during the entirety of his descent.

He doesn’t say a word, his eyes doing all the talking necessary through wet lashes as he guides you to balance a foot on the edge of the tub and hook your knee onto his shoulder. Just as you realize what he’s doing, his mouth is on your hot cunt.

For all the talk and thoughts about just how good his fingers were, you seemed to have forgotten just how good his mouth was.

His tongue works away at your clit, tracing patterns before alternating to suck it sharply between his lips. He seems to have forgotten about his earlier threat, or maybe he’s just feeling merciful, as your hands instinctively reach down and wind into the roots of his wet hair. Curls matt in your grasp instantly. A harsh tug, and he’s moving his attention elsewhere, nose now nudging your clit as he circles around your entrance, pulling whines from deep within you at the teasing.

“Eddie,” you throw your head back hard enough that you’re sure that there will be an ache to feel once all is said and done, “Fuck. Right there.”

“I see someone’s found their words,” his voice is muffled and you can feel his smirk rather than see it.

It’s a damn pretty sight. Him, on his knees, wet curls plastering down his shoulders and back as his face is buried between your thighs.

You can trace over each indent of muscle across his skin through half-lidded eyes, memorize the way it looks dazzling with the moisture, watch as water pools where his fingers dig into your thighs to keep you balanced.

When his tongue finally slips inside of you, slow and stretching as the tip of his nose digs deeper into your clit, you swear you’re seeing stars. You were going to snarkily reply, but you don’t have the capacity to reply with anything other than chants of his name. Mixtures of praying to him and praying to God fall from your lips alongside curses. All muddled, all strings of whimpers and moans as he continues to bring you closer to your edge. When he finally resorts to bringing his hand back into the mix, sinking two fingers into your cunt with little warning as he returns to lazy work on your clit, you gasp out – your body lurches forward as your curl into him and your back leaves the now sticky, warm wall.

The arm that was wrapped around your lifted leg to help you balance is quick to throw over your hips, keeping half your body still pressed to the wall. “Careful, princess.”

Each word reverberates through you, both physically and somewhere deep in your mind, sending you even further reeling as your fingers grab onto him deeper and try to press him impossibly close.

Princess. Somewhere along crossing all these lines, you have ventured into new territory. A territory where the nicknames get under your skin in a brand new way, slipping into your subconscious for the better rather than arising any irritation.

Baby, princess, sweetheart.

You’ll take whatever you can get from him.

“Wouldn’t want you slipping and falling,” he murmurs as he pulls back, face now slick with you rather than the steam or water, “Can’t have you ruining that pretty face, getting blood all over my bathroom, now can we?”

He’s right. God, you fucking hate when he’s right. As much as every part of your body is screaming for him to take you right here against the shower wall, you know it’s not a good idea. And you’ve really, really succumbed to enough bad ideas in these last nineteen hours.

“Bed,” you manage to gasp out, quick to detangle your fingers from his hair and try to grab onto his shoulders without purchase due to the water still tumbling down, “Bed, now.”

He gets the message. Rises to his feet and lets your leg fall back down, shaking as he turns to cut the shower abruptly. Without asking, he’s the one to exit into the fierce cold of the apartment first, grabbing at the flesh of your hips and guiding you out along with him. He doesn’t even bother with towels – once he has you out of that potential death trap of a tub, his lips are on yours, nipping and passionate as you breathe him in. He’s the one that maneuvers the two of you out of the bathroom, you don’t even notice when he reaches behind himself to open the door, impressively never tripping as he walks backwards and keeps your lips on his.

It occurs to you that this is how you two work best. No overshadow of being honest with each other, no clouds of feelings getting in the way. And yet, somehow, it’s the most vulnerable you’ve managed to feel with him yet.

You don’t want it to only be this easy when both your clothes are off. You want it to be this easy in the early mornings that you wake him up for work, you want it this easy over late night take-out and horror movie marathons. You want more cigarettes at sunset with him, soft confessionals over a rising sun.

You can’t keep pretending that nothing has changed. You simply can’t. The fierce promise of his protection, the way his eyes stay trained on you even in the busiest of rooms. Nothing could ever erase the blooms left from him hooking his pinky with yours at the parking garage.

All of the night is flashing through your mind, and even in the trance he has you under, you’re seeing with perfect clarity.

It’s why just as the backs of your knees connect with his mattress, before he can throw you down and continue what was started in the shower, you’re pushing your palms against his wet chest and forcing him to look into your eyes.

“If we do this,” you shakily begin, watching his chest rise and fall in sync with yours. Once you say these words, you can’t take them back. You’re vividly aware of it before you continue to force your voice to come out the most steadily it has the entire night, “It changes everything.”

He blinks, eyes owlish. Once, twice. More of that emotion you finally can single out but never identify swirls like storm clouds in his vision. You wait for him to run, for him to take it all back. You wait for it all to be over – for him to deliver the final blow and leave you to collect the rubble and blood money so you can pretend this night never happened.

“Okay.”

Those aren’t the words of a fatal blow. You think they might send you reeling even worse, though.

“Okay?” you clarify. If your tongue wasn’t so heavy, you’d say more. Remind him of what exactly it means to change everything.

It seems he already knows as he parrots back, “Okay.”

Lips meet again, and this time, they’re charged with everything. With a promise of change and a promise that maybe there isn’t a ridiculous time limit here. There is no doomsday clock between the two of you. When the clock strikes 3 PM, neither of you will vanish into thin air.

You let him throw you back onto the bed. Your bare back meets the surprisingly soft sheets, and they erupt in the scent of Eddie. Cigarettes, a hint of weed, whatever cologne he seems to douse himself in. You can even pinpoint his shampoo amongst the fragrance now.

It’s no longer the smell of boy that you once ran from. His hand is behind your back, but not trapped. It’s there willingly and it is caressing every inch of you that he can find, tracing out any dimples in your back he can discover as he lets your legs curl up onto his hips, kisses dappling your neck, jaw, and lips alike.

Your vines stretch high and proud, and drink in his waves with every passing of his breath on your skin that raises goosebumps.

You want to live here forever. In the feel of him pausing right before his cock presses into you, in the way his face scrunches up and his mouth falls agape, the haze now spreading from your mind and across both of you. Nameless chants and pleads for what was already both in the palm of your hands before you even knew what to do with it. The roll of his hips and the way his wet skin sticks to your own. Your heels digging into him, bringing him in closer, closer, closer.

Every time, it has felt this way. Something beneath the surface that has you surrendering over yourself. He has hurt you, time and time again, and you’ve let your knives be just as sharp – but the wounds scab over now when it’s just the two of you like this.

You’re best like this for a reason. Because for once, neither of you are overthinking it. You are vulnerable and you are bare, not just physically but emotionally. Honesty isn’t a request; it is a given. You don’t just have him, you know him. Across oceans and across gardens, across midnight skies and across soft morning light.

You have him. You know him.

It’s enough.

Smokey bars. His protection. Slamming doors and the clicking of locks released. The night air surrounding you and the warmth of his back as you cling to him on a motorcycle that seems to be going faster than light in your memories. That parking garage, and that hook of his pinky – a way to get closer, but also a whisper of a promise.

He’s bled for you. He’s bled from you.

This changes everything.

When his hips movements become sloppy, when the knot in your stomach tightens one last time, when your nails dig into his back and leave their mark, you know it to be true.

Everything, everything, changes.

Eddie never really hated you, never really could, and you realize now that the feeling is mutual.

—

You hadn’t considered exactly what the aftermath would be when Eddie first dragged you out of the shower, but you surely never could have imagined the scene now playing out.

Him, on his back, content and humming a song you’re too tired to ask him about. His fingers are trailing mindlessly up and down your spine as you splay out across his chest. You both probably need another shower, but neither of you are willing to leave his bed for it.

It’s not you who remembers the photo. No, you’re tired, one foot already in the door of sleep as you curl yourself tighter into his side.

He doesn’t use your phone this time. You didn’t even realize his outdated flip phone had a camera on it. You’re not even sure if you dreamt the soft click that sounds like a camera as you nuzzle deeper into his chest.

“Everything,” he whispers, just as the edges of your consciousness begin to blacken, “Yeah, this changes everything.”

Your last thought is a curious one; will he send the photo he just took?

Would he dare to admit to everyone how everything has changed?

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #hehe was right

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

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childhood sweethearts (14) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

childhood sweethearts (14) II a.russo x reader

"you're early? sorry who are you and what have you done with the alessia russo?" you gasped in mock surprise as you opened your front door, the blonde almost forty four minutes early to be exact.

"i've been saying i'm a changed woman! time management is now very important to me." alessia grinned as you moved aside to let her in, cheeks warming at the soft kiss she placed against your lips as she shuffled past.

"do you have enough layers on michelin man?" you teased as she unwrapped herself from the cocoon of clothes covering her, hanging things up as she went. "well it's freezing out there! and you never dress appropriately so i always wear extra so i can make sure you're warm." alessia admitted as you melted, surprised you weren't a puddle on the floor.

"what would i do without you?" you tugged her down into a grateful kiss as her strong hands grabbed your waist. "freeze to death probably." the taller girl mumbled against your lips, pulling away with a smile.

"also can we really call it time management if you're almost an hour early? wouldn't time management mean you were on time?" you teased as she made a beeline for your sofa.

"time is just a concept anyway. i can send you a great ted talk on it!" the striker pointed with a promising look before sinking into your lounge with a content sigh. "what?" alessia frowned as you moved in front of her and placed the back of your hand against her forehead.

"just checking you're not deathly ill. ted talks? not taking six hours to get ready? you made it all the way to the lounge without tripping on the edge of my carpet? have you by chance had a recent alien encounter?" you questioned seriously as the taller girl rolled her eyes and swatted your hand away.

"i just missed you." she answered honestly and once again you melted. "i saw you not even two hours ago!" you laughed but there was a fierce adoration in your eyes as you gazed down at her. "yeah and it was a long two hours." alessia huffed, pout forming on her lips as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"go get ready please! our reservations at seven." her foot shot out to kick your bum as your eyes widened. "less! you told me you'd come pick me up at seven." you spoke in shock as the blonde shrugged.

"did i?" alessia hummed looking away contemplatively as you sighed with frustration. "nah just kidding, its at seven thirty." the blonde grinned as your eyes narrowed, shaking your head and hurrying

"sounds like you should really work on your time management babe!"

"you look lovely." you settled as strong arms wound round your waist and alessia's chin made itself at home on your shoulder. "so do you, beautiful as always." you smiled, twisting your head to meet her in a gentle kiss.

"you're so cute lessi." you beamed as her cheeks flushed slightly pink. "am not." she buried her face in your neck as you grinned, placing in your earrings as the strikes lips softly peppered kisses beneath your ear.

"ready to go?" the taller girl kissed your cheek one last time and stood up properly as you nodded, rolling up her sleeve and checking her watch which you'd never admit to her but was a simple action you found ridiculously attractive.

"alessia!" you laughed in shock as you stood and just as quickly were swept off your feet into a bear hug, legs wrapping around her waist as she hoisted you up and onto her hips squeezing tightly.

"well i told you i'd pick you up at seven didn't i?" the italian grinned wolfishly, clearly very proud of her joke.

"so whose there?" you asked with a slight frown as alessia parked up in front of the darts bar, playing with the rings on her finger as her hand dropped into your lap. "the arsenal girls and a few of the united girls, they're up here for an away game and beth invited them." alessia answered softly sensing your nerves.

"hey if it's too much we can leave, maybe go back to my place and watch a movie? makeout a little." she smiled charmingly, interlacing her fingers with yours and squeezing gently.

"no no i know you've been wanting to see ella, i'll be fine. promise!" you assured, pecking her lips as her hand shot out to grab the back of your neck. "for good luck." she mumbled against your lips causing you to laugh softly before pulling away.

"i'm holding you to the movie and the makeout afterwards though." you poked at her with a stern look as she nodded, kissing your lips a few more times before you broke apart and stepped out of the car, the blonde quick to drape her arm over your shoulders and pull you into her side.

"you've met most of the girls before anyway but this time you're a little more sober." alessia teased quietly as you both handed your ID's over to the bouncer who checked them and handed them back with a nod.

"don't remind me!" you blushed and playfully punched her shoulder, already spotting the girls in a private room toward the back of the bar. "well hello! about time you both got here." you both stumbled a little as a body crashed into you and wedged themselves in the middle.

"you especially mate! come on, lets grab a drink." leah waved off alessia's protests as her arm replaced the strikers over your shoulder, guiding you to the bar as you sent her an apologetic smile over the older blondes head, watching as alessia was swarmed by a small army of her teammates.

"i'm gonna miss those little terrors. please if they offer to run the program again, we're completely in." leah promised, handing you a gin and tonic as the two of you hung around chatting. "they adore you. and thank you for the tickets! i don't think i'll be able to get them to sit still on monday." you laughed, leah waving off the gesture.

"go on, i'll introduce you to all the girls. don't tell less but i think some of them are more excited to meet you than see her!" leah whispered making you laugh as she grabbed her drink.

"the poor girl never shuts up about you at training and we always know when she's textin you because she's got this big dopey star eyed grin as she stares at her phone." leah teased as you caught alessia's eye across the room, sending her a smile and a nod as she raised an eyebrow wordlessly checking in.

leah taking you around the room you were passed from hug to hug, having met most of the girls at least once but easily an hour flew by as you got the chance to properly speak with them, feeling much more at ease the longer you did so.

"well well well, i knew it." you turned around with an amused smile, ella letting out a deep and dramatic sigh. "knew what ella?" you laughed as the mancunian placed a hand on your shoulder.

"you're just head over heels in love with me! obsessed, can't stay away." the girl nodded before you both broke out into laughter as she pulled you into a hug. "less looks really happy, thank you." the girl murmured in your ear in a much more serious tone as your face warmed.

"thats probably because she doesn't have to put up with you everyday!" you quipped as she scoffed and hit you on the arm. "nah she probably tells me she misses me more than you!" the brunette stuck her tongue out before the two of you started to properly catch up.

"hi pretty girl." you relaxed as arms wound round your torso and the scent of her perfume engulfed you, a small kiss placed discreetly behind your ear. "mind if i steal her?" alessia asked leah and beth who waved her off, too busy arguing with ella over how the rules of darts worked.

you let the taller girl pull you away from the hustle and bustle of the group, tugging you around a corner and camping out near the bathrooms where it was a little quieter. "hi." alessia smiled softly, ducking down to press a few tender kisses against your lips.

"you already said that." you teased as she rolled her eyes. "and i'll say it again, hi." her body pressed a little more into you, your back meeting the wall as you were drowned in the sight, smell, touch and feel of her.

"it makes me really happy to see you with all of them, you're my family and so are they." your heart leapt and skipped a beat at the sincere confession, lost in the baby blue pools of her eyes as you. "you're such a little softie now." you grinned as she groaned and buried her face in your neck.

"stop saying that. i could beat you up when we were twelve and i'll do it again now!" she huffed, causing you to squeal at the ticklish sensation of her warm breath against your neck. "mm sure you would. i'd just tell your mum!" you teased.

"yeah and she'd take your side in a heart beat, you were always her favorite daughter anyway." the striker pulled away with a pout which you wasted no time kissing away. "and don't you forget it russo." you warned tapping her chest with your hand.

"i wanted to ask you something." the blondes demeanor shifted, hands moving from your hips to take a small step back and put a little more space in between the two of you. "i'm all ears." you promised, eyebrows furrowing just a little in curiousity.

"i wanted to ask if-"

she was interrupted by the banging of a door beside you as the bathroom swung open as a few of the girls stumbled out with a laugh. "less! marys been askin for ya." ella warned, booping your nose as she stumbled past with maya, clearly a little tipsy.

"what did you want to ask?" you questioned once they'd left, catching alessia's attention once more. "later, once we have a bit more privacy." alessia smiled but there was a flicker of something in her eyes you couldn't quite place as she grabbed your hand and lead you away.

your stomach clenched nervously as she pulled you over toward a girl almost as tall as less, whom you recognized well despite never having met her and you knew meant nearly just as much to alessia as ella did.

"finally! where have ya been hiding her hm?" mary beamed as she spotted alessia, grabbing her into a tight hug as the blonde laughed and mumbled something back.

"and you don't need any introduction, feel like i've known you for years with the way she rambles on and on over the phone about you!" mary grinned as alessia paled. "mary!" the strker hissed, cheeks tinted with embarrassment as the goalkeeper hugged you tightly.

"you look after her yeah?" the girl mumbled quietly as you swallowed but nodded, the beaming smile which met you as she let go easing some of your nerves, knowing she was just looking after alessia at the end of the day.

"oh leave her be! if anything less needs the shovel talk, i like your girlfriend more than you." leah sauntered over with a slight slur, both of your faces blushing a little pink at that word which neither of you had actually discussed.

"right! another rum and coke then captain?" mary sensed the slight awkwardness and swept the blonde away toward the bar. "sorry." alessia apologized as you cocked your head to the side curiously. "why? you've got no reason to be sorry." you assured, placing a quick kiss to her lips before ella yelled out challenging the two of you to a game of darts.

"i'm telling you, you take it! i'm hopeless at the whole hand eye coordination thing." you shook your head firmly, almost stabbing the striker as you tried to thrust the dart back in her hand.

"oi this isn't a fencing drill! careful." alessia laughed, ella impatiently groaning for one of you to hurry up. "look i'll help you." the girl chuckled, maneuvering you in front of the throwing line and pressing her front into your back.

"fingertips, close one eye." her hand gripped yours, adjusting the way your fingers held the dart and moving your arm up slightly, a soft laugh left your lips as she pulled one of your eyelids gently down with the pad of her pointer finger.

"look over the top of the dart and don't throw it hard, or else it'll just go too high. we want to aim for the eleven so we slightly adjust-" she moved your elbow a little more forward, the two of you so wrapped up in your little bubble everyone else seemed to fade away, missing the loving smiles sent your way by the other girls around you.

"-then you inhale, exhale. throw!" the dart left your fingers and wedged itself into the wall, missing the board entirely as ella doubled over clutching her stomach with laughter as you groaned.

"see! i told you." you huffed, spinning around in alessia's hold who made no attempt to hide her amusement as you smacked her shoulder. "yeah you're rubbish at this." the blonde agreed, lips curling into a grin as you scoffed, held in a bear hug against your will as you tried to break free.

"i told you to take all the throws!"

alessia took a seat in between lia and vic and sipped at her water, neither one of you really having had more than a couple of drinks, her because she was driving and you because you'd been so anxious about making a good impression.

she watched on with an amused smirk as you argued back and forth with ella about why your fear of geese was much more rational than her fear of bananas, everyone around you both teasing they were both ridiculous and her heart warmed to see her two worlds meshing together so well.

but as she scrolled absentmindedly through instagram, clicking into a few of the girls stories she'd been tagged in with a smile, all of it was wiped away entirely as she watched leahs close friends story.

she was up and on her feet in seconds, nearly crash tackling the shorter girl who looked up in surprise at the clear panic plastered on her friends face. "whats wrong?" leah asked as alessia tugged her off to the side.

"leah you need to delete this right now, you can see us kissing in the background!" alessia thrust her phone in her national captains face who blinked a few times in surprise.

watching the video she'd taken of beth and jen singing along terribly to the kelly clarkson song booming over the speakers where sure enough you and alessia could be seen sharing a brief but sweet kiss in the background over beths shoulder.

"delete it leah, now!" alessia urged as the blonde nodded, grabbing out her phone and tapping around, showing her once it was gone from her close friends story. "less i'm really sorry i didn't even realise-" but her words fell on deaf ears as the striker stormed off.

"you ready to go?" you looked up in surprise from your conversation, but seeing a newly hardened look in alessia's eyes your protests disappeared, nodding and standing up to your feet.

you hurried to say goodbye to as many of the girls as you could, alessia seemingly in a hurry as she walked off alone and you followed quickly after her with a frown. "less what's wrong?" you asked softly once you'd left the bar and headed for the parking lot.

"nothing i'm fine." the girl mumbled back, tucking her hands into her pockets as you reached for them and your stomach lurched, a million and one doubts creeping in about if you'd done something wrong.

"hey. you're clearly upset, whats happened?" you tugged on the back of her jumper, hands flying to cup her flushed cheeks as you frowned with concern. "nothing, i'm fine." she forced a tightly lipped smile and let herself into her car as you made your way to the other side.

"lessi." you tried again, reaching for her hand over the console and breathing a small smile of relief when she allowed it to fall on her knee, her own hands gripping her steering wheel tightly.

"hey, its only me. talk to me love, whats happened?" you spoke gently, squeezing her knee as she let out a deep exhale. "leah posted some video on her close friends story and you could see you and i kissing in the background." alessia finally explained, pushing your hand off and starting up the car.

"okay." you frowned and nodded along, trying to prompt her to elaborate further but only met with an awkward silence as the engine roared and she pulled away, flicking on the radio. you tried to make conversation but only receiving singular word replies or a fake smile you gave that up, instead watching london pass by in a blur out the window as you sped home.

when alessia pulled up outside your flat and made no move to undo her seatbelt you put two and two together that there was clearly more to it and you could piece together where you thought her mind was.

"can you come inside please? i think we need to talk." those words had alessia's stomach dropping but you didn't give her much of a chance to protest, letting yourself out of her car and hearing her follow.

neither of you said a word as you felt around for your keys, pulling them from your pocket and letting the two of you inside, the silence building as you both stripped off your outer layers.

"do you want a tea?" you asked softly, alessia nodding wordlessly clearly caught up in her own head as she took a seat and you left her to it, moving quickly around the kitchen.

returning you placed a mug down in front of her as the striker mumbled a quiet thank you, bringing it to her lips with a small sip as you both sat with your thoughts for a moment on the sofa.

"i was trying to ask you to be my girlfriend tonight." alessia broke first as you sent her a small smile. "i know." you'd known that had been her question long before the two of you were interrupted.

"which is why i think we need to have a talk." you placed your mug down on the coffee table and tucked your legs underneath you, not missing the flicker of fear in the blondes eyes as she met your gaze before looking down into her tea.

"clearly the thing with leahs story really freaked you out." you stated your observations and waited for a moment to see if she would elaborate but when the taller girl remained quiet you continued on with your point.

"i don't think you're ready for this yet less." you forced out the words which felt like razor blades against your tongue, the blondes head snapping up as her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to protest as you held up a hand and she hesitated.

"i really like you and you really like me lessi. thats not what i doubt at all and i don't think its your feelings that are the barrier, i know they're sincere." you assured softly as she nodded.

"but you're not out to the public yet less and i think that needs to be something taken into consideration with all of this alongside the conversation we already had about how the fame and the social media side of things works." you reached out for her hand, relieved when she allowed you to take it, even pulling you a little closer as her mug joined yours on the table.

"alessia i would never ever in a million years even dream of pressuring you about your sexuality or how you express that to yourself, your friends, your family, the world, anyone, until you are ready." you promised, squeezing her hand gently as her eyes remained locked with your own.

"but look at how much you just freaked out over leahs close friends story. you said it yourself you already have such minimal privacy and i'd hate for you to feel like we're constantly having to look over our shoulders and be hyper alert whenever we're out on a date or out with your family or i come to a game." you continued softly, dropping her hand and moving them to gently cup her face as she slumped into your touch, legs pressed against yours as you shuffled even closer.

"we might have started our lives in the same place but now we come from different worlds lessi. you go and stand in front of tens of thousands of people every week for your job, you rub elbows with celebrities and give speeches at swanky award ceremonies in expensive suits or gorgeous dresses and do ads for adidas or model for magazines. I sit in a classroom wipe runny noses, make pasta necklaces and coordinate parent teacher conferences!" you gave her a sad smile which she returned, her hands coming to rest on your hips as she easily lifted you to be sat on her thighs staring down at her.

"but i don't care about that, i've never cared about that. i love what you do and how you teach and how passionate you are, and i'm so so proud of you." alessia whispered out, voice dangerously close to breaking which tugged at your heart and her grip tightened.

"i know, and i will forever and always be proud of you. like i said less you and i and how we feel about one another aren't the problem. you told me yourself how much your mental health suffered when everything became so toxic on social media with the transfer from united." you started, thumbs gently tracing her jawline.

"if someone posted a video of us kissing or holding hands or anything and the rumour mill started up about your sexuality and our relationship i would hate myself to see you get hurt like that again." you whispered out, unable to bare the thought of how heavy that would weigh on her.

"and we both know i don't really care for social media but if fans ever did some digging and found out which school i work at i could lose my job less." you reminded softly as alessia nodded with a pained wince.

"its a ridiculous concept that anyone needs to ever 'come out' but that journey and that decision it needs to be in your hands less, not at the fingertips of teenagers with no sense of boundaries and an iPhone." you promised firmly, eyebrows furrowing.

"but i love you." alessia breathed out, voice cracking as you smiled painfully. "and i love you. i've loved you since we were kids and i don't think despite how much time has passed i'll ever stop." you promised quietly.

"then why does this all feel like a goodbye?" alessia forced out and your heart broke at the tears which welled up in her eyes as her fingertips dug into your hips as if afraid you might disappear in the blink of an eye.

"its not a goodbye less, you'll always have me around. but you’d go and get glammed up at award shows and then come home to me in joggers on the sofa. you have an entire room of awards, trophies, medals, i have a few crayon pictures taped to my fridge. you are easily one of the most sincere, sweet, loving, caring, passionate human beings i've ever met and you deserve someone who can share the spotlight with you, not slink about and cower around the edges." you sighed, jolting a little in surprise as alessia moved you off her lap and stood.

"so what you're just, you're giving up on me, on this, on us?" the striker struggled to get out her words, face twisted and cheeks blotchy as her fists clenched. "no less i'm not-" you stood and tried to reach for her but she stepped away.

"i love you, you love me, we have been through so much together and worked so hard to fix things. why isn't that enough?" alessia frowned, chest heaving and head spinning as she struggled not to cry.

"you’re a stargirl alessia you always have been, so you deserve someone to shine bright with who doesn't need to be hidden or mean you feel pushed to do something you're not ready for yet! its because i love you that i just don’t think that someone you deserve is me." you confessed, trying to push down your own insecurities.

"no. no! i don't accept that. you're just tired and not thinking right and i'm tired and i just-i'm going to go home, we're going to sleep it off tonight and i'm going to see you at the game sunday afternoon and we can talk after that." alessia shook her head firmly, and before you could even say a word her lips were pressed against your cheek and the front door was closing after her.

only, that wasn't how it worked.

"lessi! darling you played brilliantly." carol beamed pulling her daughter into a firm hug, but the strikers eyes roamed the family and friends section, ignoring the praises and the hugs from her family only looking for one person.

"she's not here?" her eyes met her brothers who frowned as he pulled away from her. "i tried calling but she didn't pick up, i'm sorry less." gio apologised softly as alessia's face fell.

"its fine, thanks for trying." the girl sighed with a small smile, swept away by her parents and trying to force on a brave face as plans were discussed for their usual dinner.

"uh no, she's busy marking." alessia lied as you were brought up, mario questioning how many to make a reservation for, grateful for the fact no further questions followed as she excused herself to go and grab her things.

"hey, come with me for a second?" leah had picked up from across the stands the miserable look on the younger girls face and had been waiting for her in the tunnel, ignoring alessia's attempts to dismiss her and pulling her into one of the medic rooms for some privacy.

"is this about the other night? your head hasn't been in it all day. less i'm so sorry about the story i really should have looked but i was drinking and just clicked post and-" leah started to apologise as alessia shook her head firmly.

"leah i overreacted the other night and i'm really sorry, i know it wasn't on purpose and its not about that, well it sort of is but not completely and-" she struggled to get her words out, leah encouraging her to engage in a few deep breaths.

once she had calmed a little more the rest came out like word vomit, leah following along with a slight frown as the striker got everything off her chest about her-conversation? argument? disgareement? she wasn't even sure what to call it.

"okay. so now its been a couple of days, what do you think about everything she said?" leah asked gently, pulling herself to sit up on the med bench next to alessia who sighed.

"i don't know! i don't want to completely dismiss her feelings but to be blunt she's being stupid. if anything i don't deserve her and i don't care if our lines of work are rapidly different, if anything thats why i love her so much and i feel like we work so well together." alessia admitted honestly as leah hummed to show she was listening.

"but she has a point about the whole social media and boundaries thing. i'm not ready to come out but i shouldn't have to be in order to engage in a meaningful relationship? why does society get to ruin that for me just because people don't understand privacy." alessia huffed, kicking her feet out with a scowl.

"but then on the other hand i'd love nothing more than to be able to show her off because well...you met her and you know how wonderful she is. but people would just find every little reason to tear her down and i'm not able to protect her from everything, especially not faceless internet trolls." alessia groaned, leaning back on her forearms and looking up at the roof.

"but then why should any of that stop us from being together? i'd never want her to feel hidden or like a dirty little secret but there are ways we could go about maintaining our privacy. plus i guess her not being famous eliminates people being able to cyber stalk her, she hardly even uses social media." alessia frowned, a slight curl of leahs lips all that showed the amusement that came from watching alessia work herself through this.

"so then go tell her all of that lessi." leah bumped her shoulder into her teammates with a nod of encouragement. "okay. okay yeah i will!" alessias eyebrows knotted together and she jumped down to her feet.

"less!" the blonde paused, hand on door as leah called out, holding up her car keys which had slipped from her pocket.

"might need these romeo."

without really giving a believable excuse why but grateful no one pressed her about it alessia had cancelled dinner with her family and raced from the emirates right to your place.

but circling the block twice and unable to find a park she cursed to herself and retreated to her own flat, and then of course right as she stared to walk it started to rain.

when you heard knocks at your door that evening you assumed it was the pizza you were eagerly waiting for and leapt to your feet, eyes widening in shock to find a soaking wet alessia russo holding a boquet of soggy flowers on your doorstep instead.

"less?? jesus christ you're drenched! did you walk here?" you pulled her inside and closed the door, the rain thundering down against your roof.

"are you stupid? do you want to get sick? go get in the shower!" you ordered sternly, dismissing your shock at her sudden arrival for concern about her wellbeing. "alessia! go." you tried to push her when she remained unmoving, grunting as you had no success.

"no. we need to talk!" alessia shook her head stubbornly. "so you walked here in the pouring rain? why didn't you just call me?” you sighed as the blonde paused, cheeks flushing red at the realization.

"because i need to say this now!" she recovered and you accepted the flowers held out toward you. "sorry, they got a little wet." alessia mumbled as you couldn't help but smile at the gesture, moving to put them down in the kitchen.

"can you please go take a warm shower and i'll get you some dry clothes? then we can talk." you tried but again were met with a shake of her head, a small puddle forming beneath her on your floorboards.

"sit down please." her hands fell to your shoulders, walking you backwards until you reached the bar stools, giving in with a sigh and taking a seat.

"you had your time to speak on friday, and i've had my time to think things over about what you said." alessia started as you nodded, crossing one leg over the other and trying to ignore the urge to strip her wet clothes off of her and push her into the shower, already seeing a slight shake in her body.

"as much as i respect you, and i respect your thoughts and your feelings i still disagree. i meant it when i said i love you, i'm so in love with you and i have been for years. we've only just worked through everything that ruined what we had last time and i will never stop being sorry for my actions even with your forgiveness and i need you to know that." alessia pushed as your face softened.

"i know less, i know." you assured softly as she sighed a little in relief.

"good. that being said, i can completely understand that you want to protect me as much as i want to protect you. i know coming out needs to be my choice and a journey guided by my hands but why should me not being ready to go public stop me from enjoying a relationship where i feel so loved and safe and comfortable." alessia started, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"everyone who means something to me already knows, everyone in my support net and my circle knows and they still love and accept me regardless. i don't need the validation of coming out to a bunch of strangers but if it means i lose you then i'd do it in a heartbeat, there isn't anything i wouldn't do for you." alessia promised as you sighed quietly.

"less-" "please let me finish."

with a nod and a quiet apology you fell silent again as she took a deep breath.

"you said i deserve someone to shine bright with, to share my life with and not slink around the edges of it. but there isn't a single aspect of my life i can't see you fitting perfectly into or making feel even brighter! i don't care if i come home after some big ridiculous award show to you on the sofa in sweats marking spelling homework, in fact i can't think of anything else i'd rather come home to." alessia let out a small laugh as you cracked a smile.

"i know we come from different worlds, i can't fault that. but i'd love nothing more than for them to come together, i know you would always be there for me through all the highs and the lows, and you won't ever completely get it, but thats the beauty of it. i love you because you're you, not because of your job or your salary or the fact you can't kick a ball to save your life!" alessia threw her hands up in the air.

"hey!"

"everything that you think is a barrier or a difference or further proof of how wildly opposite our lives and careers are only makes me love you more. i'm not saying we won't have challenges and arguments or disagreements, but nothing thats worth fighting for is easy. and you are the number one person i'd go to war for." she closed the gap between the two of you, her wet hands clasping your cheeks as your own settled on top of them.

"now last time i gave you this speech you were very angry with me but i found it in my phone notes and i'd really like to say it again if you can get through it all without you kissing me to shut me up?" alessia joked softly as you nodded.

"i know that you still cut the crusts off your toast and you refuse under any circumstances to eat olives or tomatoes. i know this because i'd always make sure i'd take them off your plate for you before my mum would notice." alessia started as your lips curled into a smile.

"i know that you bite your nails when you're nervous or feeling shy, and you fidget with your necklace when you're worried someones speaking about you. you'd twist my rings around to distract me when you knew i was nervous before a game and i'd never even need to tell you because you just knew when i wasn't myself. i've loved you since you were that god awfully shy short unathletic six year old who had scuffed shoes two sizes too big and the boys shirt on because your mum accidentally sent you in your brothers hand me downs." alessia continued on.

"i know that you still use chopsticks or a spoon to eat certain kinds of crisps because you hate the feeling of the dust on your fingers. i know that you hate most hot drinks because they remind you of the time you burnt your tongue on two minute noodles. i know that you couldn't care less about football but you'd listen to me bang on about it for hours because you didn't want to hurt my feelings or have me think you didn't support me. you'd let me kick balls at your head for hours because you knew it helped me, you were the first person i'd go to after a game and the only one i'd point to when i scored!" alessia's smile grew as you shook your head lightly.

"the airplane arms have always been around." you teased gently as you reached up to gently move a wet strand of hair out of her face.

"every time that I am around you my entire being, every single cell and fiber and mollecule feels fizzy. you make me feel properly alive, full of hope and laughter and the purest kind of joy. i know that you could run intellectual rings around anybody but you choose not to because you're a very good person, the best kind of person actually. you're kind and you're selfless and you've always put other peoples needs before your own. which is exactly why you've always pushed me more than anyone else i've ever met, and that you've always believed in me, maybe even far more than i ever believed in myself. i do know you. because its you, its always been you, and i think it will only ever be you." alessias voice shook a little as she took a moment to compose herself.

"so for the love of god will you please be my girlfriend?" alessia held her breath the moment the words left her mouth, biting down nervously on her bottom lip unable to read your face.

unable to find the words the blonde was a little taken aback as you stood to your feet and surged forwards, pressing your lips against hers as your arms wound around her neck.

you poured every single little ounce of love into that kiss, and alessia felt it.

"so thats a yes?" the girl pulled away, pupils dilated and slightly out of breath as she pressed her forehead against yours. "yeah, thats a yes." you laughed, eyes welling up with tears at the overwhelming surge of emotions which flooded your body.

unable to stop the shit eating grin which devoured her face you laughed louder as alessia's hands hooked under your thighs and hoisted you up and into her arms, your legs wrapped around her waist as your mouths moved in perfect sync with one another.

"baby this is very romantic. but you are still soaking wet and your teeth are chattering, can we please go have a warm shower now?"

"okay! okay! 4D i need you to settle down please, listening ears on." you clapped out a pattern, half the class clapping back and the others still chattering away as they did every monday morning you'd try to settle them.

but with a gentle knock on the door they fell silent, eyes wide and soft whispers bouncing around the room at their visitor who looked to you with an apologetic smile.

warning your class about your superhuman hearing you stepped out of the room, rolling your eyes with a chuckle at the way the chatter exploded up again as you did though this time about the kitted out arsenal player who'd been standing sheepishly in the doorway.

"you forgot your lunch." alessia handed you the bag of food as you shook your head with a smile. "thank you baby." with a quick glance around you craned up to peck her lips appreciatively.

"now go! if you're late again kelly will have my head." you teased, the blonde grinning and pecking your lips one last time and stepping away. "i'll see you tonight pretty girl." she promised, blowing you a kiss and turning around.

"you know your bum looks great in those shorts 23." you teased quietly sending her a wink. "excuse me missy we're in a teaching environment. be professional!" the striker warned now walking backwards and wagging her finger at you, ring glinting as it hit the sun.

"but i know it does." she winked cockily with a smirk. “thirty years old and we’re still bringing the heat!” the footballer did a little shimmy as your eyes widened. "less watch out for-" your warning was far too late as she backed up into the rubbish bins, slipping over and tumbling to the floor with a loud bang as you winced.

"sorry! no need to worry we're all good here." you dismissed the heads which popped out of other classrooms, alessia hurrying to her feet and sending you one last apologetic smile before high tailing it out of the building.

with a sigh and a chuckle you returned to the classroom, the chatter falling silent as you raised an eyebrow.

"lets try this again then. good morning 4D!" you sung out with a smile.

"good morning mrs russo!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaaand that brings this delightful little series of mine to a close. thank you for reading my friends 🤎

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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greetings from austin, tx cowboy like me chapter one

alright hwfg. first part of a dbf!joel series i'm gonna be working on. i hope you guys enjoy 🤍 please feel free to send in any requests or ideas, i'm constantly writing this so would love to know your thoughts!!!! love u all thank u sm for being the best

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you return to austin after graduating to find everything as it always was. well, most things...

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), little bit of alcohol consumption, and lotsa flirtin and allusions to...something more

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.” He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think. “Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips. “Wasn’t starin’.” “No?”

Summer. Texan summer. One of the few things drawing you back halfway across the country to your hometown: bright, sunny, so hot the car bonnets burn your fingertips. It had become a running joke between you and your dad: he’d send a picture of Austin’s scorching sunshine, and you’d reply a picture of New York’s grey skies.

You were ready to come back home.

That is, until your flight landed onto saturated wet tarmac, during the rainiest month of the year. It hasn’t let up in the five days since.

You stumble off the bus into a torrential downpour and throw your hood back up, but it’s no use. By the time you arrive at work, your clothes are soaked through, your hair is plastered to your shoulders, and your mood is worse than ever.

Sal hands you a towel from the back when you walk into the office, but not before giving a hearty laugh from his desk.

“You oughta be gettin’ yourself a car, anyway, lady. Now that you’re back home.”

You give him as sincere a smile as your cheeks will allow. He’s your boss, sure, but he’s also a buddy of your dad’s. Gave you a part-time job for some extra cash when you were still at school, and has taken you back on now you’ve graduated. It’s in your best interests to keep him sweet.

The hardware store is the same as it always was. A little dim, a little dusty; same old tools and same old customers, but homely. You get to work unpacking this morning’s delivery, hauling boxes off of the trolley and filling the shelves. The day passes quickly enough, and you’re folding up empty cardboard boxes to waste the last half hour of your shift when a voice hums from behind you.

“Well, hello, darlin’.”

You stand up straight and spin around to find Joel Miller before you, trademark flannel and subtle-but-still-there smile on.

“Hey, stranger,” you reply, smiling back, before he opens his arms and pulls you in for a bear hug.

Joel Miller. Same as always: tall, rugged, handsome, dark hair and beard singed with grey, warm and sweet-smelling, grumbling, mumbling Joel. His chin rests on top of your head for a second before you pull away, and he looks you up and down.

“Been meaning to come over to see you since you got back, your dad said you were pretty busy unpackin’. Thought I’d give you a few days. Everything alright?”

“All good,” you reply with a nod. “I accumulated a lot of crap in New York.”

He smirks, shoulders jerking a little with a laugh. “Didn’t realise you’d gotten your job back in here,” he looks around, “you likin’ it?”

You shrug. “It’s money. And I know how things are run. Sal’s a good guy.”

Joel nods. “When do you get off?”

You glance down at your watch. “Five minutes.”

“You want a ride home?”

You take a deep breath and breathe out a, “Yes, please,” with a sigh. It’s been a long, damp day.

“I’ll just go grab these,” he holds up two boxes of nails, “meet you outside when you’re done, kid.”

He brushes past your shoulder heavily as he passes, something he always used to do when you were younger. You snort when he mutters, “My bad.”

Joel Miller and your dad have been best buds since, like, the eighties. Your dad has a few years on Joel, but they’re as close as can be. Grew up on the same street, saw each other through girlfriends, marriage, children, divorce. Never one without the other, all that.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah – four years your junior – is a freshman out west, somewhere in California. Another of the reasons you thought it was time to come home: your dad and Joel must feel pretty lonely having both of you gone.

When you’ve grabbed your hoodie and bag and made your way back out front, Joel’s being served by Anna, a girl you went to school with. She stayed here in Austin, has some side hustle selling makeup and perfume. She flutters her eyelashes at Joel as she rings him up. You cringe as you find place at his side.

“Ready?” he murmurs, looking down at you.

You nod.

“How’s things, anyways, Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, even as he’s turning to leave.

“Uh, good, thanks. Good luck with the…makeup.” Then he gives a low grunt and makes for the door.

“Not much of a talker,” you mutter to Anna, and flatten your lips against one another in the form of a goodbye.

Joel’s sat out front in his truck, looking down the receipt.

“Girl charged me for three boxes. If she wasn’t talkin’ so damn much about her perfumes…”

You pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. “Why don’t you go back in there and get your money back?”

“What, and subject myself to her battin’ eyelashes again? Almost blew me off my feet.”

Your head falls back against the headrest with laughter. “You know, you were the first thing she asked me about on my first shift back.”

“I bet I was, baby,” he replies, switching the ignition on and reaching an arm behind your seat as he reverses back.

You spend most of the drive home catching up, telling him about New York and listening to what antics he and your dad have gotten up to since your last visit home. It’s easy talking to Joel, easier than with your dad. He hums and grunts, lets you ramble, tells you what he thinks, then the pair of you fall back into comfortable silence until the next conversation sparks. No judgement, no lectures. Just Joel.

When you pull up in your drive, Joel casts you a meaningful look and says, “He’s really missed you, y’know. We both have.”

“You both have?”

“Sure. Gets quiet ‘round here at times. And with Sarah gone…It’ll be real nice to have you back again.”

“I’ll keep you on your toes, Miller.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

“Joel? Hey, buddy.” Your dad’s voice breaks apart your conversation and you both turn to see him approaching from the garage. “Hi, kiddo.”

“Hey. Joel came in to get some stuff, gave me a ride home.” You hop out of the truck, and Joel wanders round to meet you.

“Well, thanks, man. You say thank you?” he asks.

You glance awkwardly at Joel, muttering a thank you like some little kid. He shakes his head softly in return, giving you a look that your dad misses, but you understand.

“C’mon inside, I was just tidying up. Stayin’ for dinner, Joel? I bet this girl’s been chewing your ear off about NYC…” Your dad’s voice fades away as he wanders back into the garage, and you and Joel begin to follow.

“Ain’t no need to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into your space.

You nod appreciatively. “My presence is thanks enough, I know.”

He nudges you toward the house.

Your dad orders in pizza and you set the table while he and Joel sit to discuss a potential new client. Joel sits at the edge of the table, turned outward to face the sliding doors, elbow hooked over the back of his chair. As you maneuver around them, placing mats down, you can’t help but note how fucking good he looks.

Tousled hair, unshaven beard. A broadness that even his own shirt can barely hold in; from where you’re standing, you can see where his neck meets his toned shoulders, skin tanned from the sun and the tiniest burst of chest hair over his collar…

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.”

He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think.

“Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“Wasn’t starin’.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh. You got a stain on your shirt.”

His brows furrow and his head instantly snaps down to his chest. “Where?”

You snort, wandering over to put his plate on the mat. “My bad,” you whisper, leaning over, “must’ve been the light.”

Joel’s breath wavers only for a second, before your dad re-enters the room and he’s forced to compose himself.

“Alright, let’s see…Pepperoni, bleh, keep that one on that side of the table, please, and plain cheese over here.”

“See you haven’t improved Dad’s taste in pizza,” you say to Joel as you pull your chair out beside his and sit down, cross-legged.

“He – he’s immune to change,” he replies, then, only once he’s regained composure, adds, “or improvement of any kind.”

“Hey,” your dad protests, lifting a slice. “Cool it on the insults, here. You’ve been back six days,” he points a greasy finger at you, then steers it in Joel’s direction, “and you’re the one who turned down Lois last month. Talk about improvement, she could turn your life around, son.”

“Who the hell is Lois?” you ask, mouthful of pizza, aiming for chill, but coming across overly interested.

Joel shakes his head, only looking at you briefly from the corners of his eyes. “Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire. And I didn’t turn her down.”

“She asked you out?” Your knee brushes against his waist. He feels it; you know from the way his body tenses.

“She…said she’d like to go for a drink, sometime. I said yeah, maybe…some time.”

“Ouch. Poor Lois.”

He turns to face you now. “Don’t give me the same spiel your dad did, alright? I can decide for myself when I’m ready to be…datin’.”

“Wouldn’t he be nice with a receptionist from a plant hire on his arm?” Your dad fades into the background as you and Joel back-and-forth.

“If you don’t think you turned her down, why say you’re not ready to be dating?”

“Ha! See, my little girl,” Dad waves his slice of pizza around, “she got a degree, Joel. She’s smarter ‘n us. She’s got you on that one.”

“What is your degree in, again? Law?” Joel speaks through his teeth.

You beam back, happy to have riled him. “Film.”

“Film. My mistake. Must’ve felt like I was bein’ interrogated or som’.”

You decide to pull it back then. Enough discussing Joel’s love life – it doesn’t interest you much, not for the right reasons, anyway. The conversation shifts naturally to your degree, your graduation, and the year you spent living in the city afterward.

When most of the pizza is gone, the three of you sit idly chatting; the last Rangers game, the neighborhood barbecue coming up, the weather. Right as your dad voices concern about a job he has next week, his cell starts to ring in the living room.

As hasty and tactless as ever, he jumps up and almost knocks his chair flying. You and Joel laugh quietly as he bounds off in search for his phone.

You turn back to Joel, who’s playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Hey.” You nudge him with your knee. He grunts in response. “Hey,” you say, clearer, this time pulling your legs up and over onto his lap. “Didn’t mean what I said about that Lois lady. I’m sure you had your reasons, and it’s none of my business. Or my dad’s.”

He stifles a laugh, sucking a breath in until his chest meets his chin. Then he lifts his head to look over to you. “Sorry I snapped. Wasn’t all serious, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m mad with you.”

“You can be, if you want.” You lean forward. “Just not for long, okay? It’d be a long summer with just my dad to hang with if Sarah’s gone and you ain’t talking to me.”

This time he laughs. For real. You mirror his swollen cheeks, glad to see you’ve amused him. He puts the bottle on the table and his hands fall to your ankles, where he gently rubs with his thumbs.

“When does she get home?” you ask him.

“Couple weeks. Still got finals and all that to worry about.”

You nod knowingly, muttering, “Rough.”

He gently lifts your legs from his lap and stands, towering over you, your chin inches away from his belt buckle as you look up at him. He doesn’t move, just brings a hand down to cup your jaw and tilt your head back ever so slightly with his thumb under your chin.

You can feel your pulse in your throat. You know Joel can, too. You clench between your legs, an ache forming there, and the only thought behind your eyes is him remedying it.

You bring your hands up to settle behind his thighs, trying desperately to send him a message through your doe eyes. Something in the way the corners of his mouth rise almost imperceptibly tells you he hears you loud and clear.

Your dad bursts back into the room like a bat out of hell, and the two of you spring apart.

“Supplier had some trouble with directions,” he mutters, tossing his cell onto the counter.

Joel grumbles in response, then, like nothing at all out of the ordinary just happened, begins gathering the bottles and gestures to you to grab the pizza boxes. You follow him over to the sink where you set the boxes down and he runs the bottles under the faucet, filling them up and pouring the dregs of beer down the drain.

Your dad’s busy clearing the placemats from the table, babbling to himself about work, when you feel Joel’s shoulder lean into yours.

“Trouble,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows in response.

“You,” he breathes, “are nothin’ but trouble.”

You smile back at him gleefully.

Trouble, indeed.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf! joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #joel tlou #fic: cowboy like me

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chokchokk · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄) | choi san x fem!reader

a requested drummer boyfriend!san one-shot

“How do I feel like, Sannie?”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : With your eyes on his playing, San feels like a superstar.

You, on the other side, feel super horny. Mamma Mia…

“You feel like you're mine."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.8k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, a bit cocky but very sweet drummer!san, shy but not inexperienced girlfriend!femreader, sensory overload & deprivation, slight dry-humping (f), light-hearted teasing, pet-names (sun, sunshine, sunny, baby), explicit consent, verbal & physical reassurance, blindfolding, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, love-making, passionate sex, unprotected sex (not sorry), cussing; banging against the wall and mattresses squeaking used as a narrative and poetic device, barely plot just good fuck and tuck (aftercare)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wrote this in 4 long sessions while i had a very horny long distance relationship with drummer!san due to all the business i experienced while working on this lol. i missed him any time i couldn't write for him, which, over the course of almost 2 months (i'm sorry)... is long.... i promise it is sweet and love-making but uh. horny. i was drunk for a big chunk (like a half) of writing this (took care of obvious errors but tell me if you find anything please omg.) anyway lmao hope you have fun reading it <33 always appreciate reblogs, likes and comments/feedback xoxo

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : @ateezstanforever : @sanwhalvr : @itsvxlentine : @jeonride : @r1kitti : @sanniesbunnie : @northerngalxy (thank you!!!)

masterlist link | join my taglist

[ what he’s playing : MAMMAMIA / FEEL / FOR YOUR LOVE ▸ Måneskin | playlist ]

OH, OH, OH, AUGH!

There he goes again, your boyfriend, his black earphone plugged deep into one ear, drum sticks held firmly in his hands, hammering down on the drums he's been abusing for the past, uh — gosh, how long has it been? An hour? A lifetime?

You love your Sannie, you really do, but when you signed up to be the girlfriend of infamous drummer “Sun Set”, you were expecting heated, secret glances from the stage to the audience, feverish making out-sessions post-concert, and while you do get those things in an overdose, listening to drum covers (without the vocals, mind you) on repeat until your ears actually fall off–? No, that one was not on the initial contract.

And, come on, it's finally the weekend after one long, exhausting week, which San and you usually spend trying to de-stress, relax and relieve yourself. So yes, if it was as usual, you would be spending your sweet time with your boyfriend right now— if it wasn't for his upcoming competition with his band.

Alright. It’s not to say that you are being forced to stay here in between these soundproof walls, covered by graffiti San's bandmates left to immortalize their jam-sessions, and don’t forget the pungent smell of tobacco that will without a doubt stick to the hoodie you fetched after he took it off— you do want to be a supportive girlfriend that’s worth winning those 1K for.

So, you’ll still give him a thumbs up and applause every time he finishes with a song, tilts up his head triumphantly, fingers running through his incredibly disheveled red hair that has formed singular spikes of sweaty strands, while the drum sticks still rest in his hands with his breath all messed up. He gives it his all, but what you understand is that San gives even more when you are there to watch him: At least that’s what you’re seeing right now, when he doesn't give himself more than five seconds to transition to the next track.

Lower lip bitten deep by his teeth, face pulled together to a concentrated frown, head rocking up and down, side to side, with his red locks waving around in the wind of his energy and feet aggressively stomping down the bass drum, your boyfriend feels his music, always, with his whole body, his mind drowns and explodes with the help of his loud instrument, and as you sit there, on the couch, a pillow clenched in between your legs– you try to balance out the overbearing noise by digging your nails into the cushion, and you deal with the “awe” you feel for your boyfriend being so immersed by his artistry, god, so astonishingly burning and afire— by pressing your thighs together so the beats of his drum can finally stop pulsating between them.

San doesn’t smile when he plays, you noticed it a while ago, makes an almost disgusted-looking face by scrunching his face together, especially when he really hammers down the cymbals and throws his head to the back, drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes as if he’s challenging the gods to come stop him, his thick neck glistening in his sweat, his pulse pumping through the vein that is bulging out.

Oh, mamma…

You hope those gods do have mercy with you, because San looking like this does things to you that go beyond just feeling fear that he’s going to throw his shit to the floor. It makes you go into a craze that he’s also wearing a very drenched black tank top and pair of ripped jeans, his black bandana he had on his head is now tied around his thigh, and his arms are flexing with each time he’s thwacking down on his tom-toms and smashing the cymbals— fuck, where does your boyfriend get the time to go to the gym? Is it getting hot in here? You can’t possibly be enduring overheating on top of a headache, you’ll actually pass out or have to rip off your clothes in its entirety. But, shit, look at him— your boyfriend looks absolutely carnal right now and you can’t even slightly touch him, you’re going to melt. Like actually melt into mush.

… mia.

San is going through his usual cathartic euphoria, the snaring sounds of his drums and cymbals penetrate your ear cut and clean, but while you usually can bop your head to it, listening to him does slightly differ, when your brain clenches after each sound that follows the other.

It’s 1 AM. The weekend has just started. It’s been two hours of his practice now, with a small ‘make-out break’ that is already more than thirty minutes ago. San promised you, ‘just one last song and I’ll be there for you, yeah?’, but there goes he, your boyfriend, Choi San, Sun Set, drumming along to his tenth or something song, overflowing in intense passion.

You could have been lying in bed with him, San in your arms or you in his, smothered by his love or something, anything; Please, just… No more beating the skin. No more rudiments, diddles– you don’t want to hear none of it, and you know you’re being an immodest glutton for your boyfriend thinking of him like this, but there’s nothing else on your mind except him and how bad you want him to stop playing. Of course you can’t say that out loud, at least not that he could hear it over the sounds of his drums, especially over how loud the music in his earbuds is set, the vocals screech through the plastic so even you can hear the shouts.

San values his musical time with his drum, needs it to feel secure for the competition, it would be cruel to interrupt him just because you have a headache and an even more so aching cunt, right?

No, you dummy.

San is your boyfriend. Or no, you, dear, are his beloved girlfriend. He’s not going to let you sit here and suffer, even if you mean well for him and watch Sun Set be hot. Being his scarily attentive self, he catches the strain in your face and immediately stops stepping into the bass drum with his sneakers. A very acute quietude interrupts his playing and washes all of your boiled up headache away.

Silence.

It can sound so sweet, can’t it? Can feel so sweet, too…

“Hey, are you okay, sunshine?”, San asks, and after your ears get used to the lack of sound, you see his sweat drop from his forehead, hear his voice soft and molten, which starkly contrasts the overwhelming volume of the instrument he’s been playing.

“No, it’s nothing,” you murmur, failing at hiding your discomfort, as the pillow still rests in your hands, nail marks as visible as visible can be on the velvety surface. You’ve obviously been scratching that, don't even try to hide it.

“Oh, sunshine,” San sighs with a sorrowful smile that understands immediately, and after he swings his legs from the stool, he makes his way to you with open arms to slide them under your armpits.

You liquefy in his hug, the pillow tumbling out your groin, body going lax immediately as you wrap yourself around his neck, sinking into him. The couch squeaks a bit upon the impact of San falling into it, but the shrill noise is nothing compared to the beat of his drums. His embrace engulfs you, makes you feel sunken in remedy, reverie and warmth– and the slippery surface of his back only adds to the experience of having your lover in your arms. All that was a buzzing chaos— San makes it golden, melting your tense body, lifting it up to gently sit down on the couch side-ways with you on top, your ear listening to how his heart knocks against his ribcage, slowly, loudly, steadily.

“It’s past midnight already!”, he gasps silently, looking at the clock, “Why didn’t you tell me, sunny?”

“You had that look on again,” you whine, face planted into his breast, god, his pillowy, sweaty chest— and look up to him, as he strokes over your back.

“I have something like that?”, San hums, voice is kept low so he doesn’t irritate you in any way, though there’s a slight suggestive swing in the repetition of your words, “A look?”

His eyebrow twitches up and his lips are curled into a smirk, wanting you to tell him in detail what’s gotten you to fidget around with the pillow and whine in impatience, clearly bleeding in confidence that comes from having not missed even the slightest beat of the songs.

You didn’t think drummers were that sexy, since the usual limelight was kept on the flirtatious vocalists, powerful guitarists or the red-blooded bassists, but after San had invited you to one of his jam-sessions on the third date, your life had been tilted upside-down, rocked, and your fate settled. (It was really rough to not fall around his neck after his drum-solo, peculiarly when Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept making jokes about your red cheeks, but you still remember the way San asked you whether you were alright with his heavy breath, and, oh god, does it still turn you on to this day.)

If it’s not the look he has on his face every time he pounds into his instrument, the one which you can feel flutter in between your legs, it’s most certainly the look in his eyes he has on right now, the sultry, slightly taunting gaze that’s trying to make you sweat, and as if the room isn’t heated up enough, his dark irises spark in between his eyelashes, kindling a fire in you that definitely needs extinguishing— so best believe he should know it.

“Your fans tell you every day, Sannie,” you groan, embarrassment croaking your voice while you snuggle yourself deeper into his comfortable body, his thigh parked between your legs. You can feel the knot of his bandana stroke your core and you shudder a little bit, a cracked breath escaping out your nose. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows– doesn’t seem to acknowledge how you inhale deeply– and San exhales out a chuckle, answering, with glittery puppy eyes that make you unable to say no any further, “I’d like to hear it from you though, sunshine…”

You slump deeper into his flesh and as his bandana grazes the thin layer of your booty- shorts again, you savor how slow he’s breathing and how warm he feels under you, sighing, “Sannie, when you play the drums… It’s like… W- wow, what do I say, you know…”

“Aww, don’t be shy now,” San croons and doesn’t acknowledge how he’s encouraging you to keep grinding needily on his thigh, hands skidding to your ass to cup them delicately, drifting and pushing you over slowly. “I don’t know, Sannie… You–,” you whirr and you have to inhale sharply after your sensitive bud tingles, “You… make my head hurt, Sann- n- nie.”

Alright, let’s be honest here. You’re lying through your teeth, and San chuckling is confirmation that he doesn’t believe the lie one single bit.

Yes, your head hurts, but that was his music, not San as the only man who could take care of all the feelings that have been jamming up like crazy. Feelings being a gut-wrenching mix of longing, craving, lusting for San as hard as you do. Even now, you can count the drops of sweat on his face dripping down his freckled neck you’ve already previously admired, but seeing it up close makes you quite greedier, especially when you can still make out his flavor on your tastebuds from having had your tongue down his throat a (too long) while ago. Not to forget his fingers groping into your plump butt right now, and it’s confusing how your boyfriend’s visage can stay as innocuous as it looks while he’s obviously supporting you on chasing your thrill.

After the silence that follows San’s chuckle, your boyfriend speaks up again, and despite the air being undeniably thick, his voice vibrates comfortably in his ribcage, lulling in the side of your head; “I’m so sorry for making your pretty head hurt, Y/N.”

You click with your tongue, pouting, gathering a bit of your energy that’s slowly coming back, and grab San by his shoulders. You turn your head so your chin is poking into his sternum, looking right to where he’s eyeing you down. You stop grinding and he looks with a smile.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?”, your boyfriend snickers softly, hands disappearing under his hoodie to trail you down your back and waist with his fingers. You feel fuzzy and velvety under his touch, and him gently breathing out “sunny” melts in your ears like a restorative, refreshing breeze after the endless knocks of his drums intimidating you and tying your throat shut.

“My ears were seriously killing me, I think,” you admit, but the cute pout remains formed on your lips.

“Ohh, Y/N, I’m– I’m really sorry to hear that. I really didn’t want to make you hurt, sunny, I promise,” San sniffles and mirrors your pout; you get the hunch he does feel very, very sorry this time, yet his hands are very guilty of slithering up your back and— clip! Open up your bra.

Ignoring that you flutter, feel light and feel the relief already, you uncontrollably giggle in surprise and push yourself up, getting to see more of your boyfriend’s handsome face. He has stopped pouting now, using his tongue to wet his red-tinted lips with a friendly, yet very ferocious smile. “You know the songs I was playing right now, sunshine?”

“No, I don’t,” you answer with continuing honesty.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “hm, maybe it’s better that way,” voice dripping like honey, but the sweet innocence is feigned, making you curious of what he’s hiding from you, deflecting from the very evident scene he’s painting.

His caramel skin proves it; for the particularized taste, heat must be added for sugar to win aroma, and your boyfriend is testing the theory to its limits.

Gliding his hands to your hips, San gets your cheeks burning, and when he hooks his fingers into his hoodie and drives it off your body, you lick over your lips asking yourself if you need any clarity to know where this is going; With your arms raised, your boiling skin meets fresh air through your drenched shirt and you shudder for a short moment, before your boyfriend gets his hands on the bra, fetches it, and slithers it out your arms.

After it drops to the ground and San sees your nipples poke through your shirt, he shifts his weight to the front to make you trip on your back, and takes off his tank top with both of his hands. His lats spread frighteningly wide and you let out a gasp. You’ll never not be surprised about how beefy your boyfriend is; San’s sweaty body expands in front of your eyes, and his collarbones are perfectly in your sight, as he hovers over you with his hand propped next to your head. There’s a wave of heat hitting your face and you aren’t sure whether you’re blushing or if his body is just genuinely that thermal.

Adopting the rather playful tone of your lover, you sulkily murmur, “It’s unfair if you don’t tell me about those things now, Sannie,” letting your finger trail along his slippery chin with softness, aware that you will only semi-attentively listen to his words from how distracted you are from his fallen eyes that are slowly flaming up. There’s only two things on your mind and while one of them includes going home, the other one can be perfectly executed on the couch.

“Oh, so naughty things, sunny, I don’t know if you want to hear about them, actually.”

San chuckles, his words contradicting how eagerly he kisses your hand, piercing through you with his eyes, making you melt. He gets his upper body up, his knees caging you in and you murmur “tell me about them”, as your boyfriend grabs you by wrist to help you move it down his chest that is still perceivably sleek, down to his abs that are just as lubricious and then, with a heavy sigh he definitely forms into a clear “ha~” leaving his mouth which makes your insides wobble.

Your boyfriend is such a tease. On stage, he doesn’t get to be as interactive as his band-counterparts do, like getting their sweat-drenched heads dangle down to the crowd and be ruffled through their hair, but Sun Set surely takes off his top oftentimes enough so every fan of his can admire his build. Your boyfriend’s amazing build.

He lets go of your hand to go through his red hair with a smirk, peeking down at his belt, clearly driving you into a wall here which is going to feel feathery light, but still so scary to brush against your skin— you have to make a choice here, one that makes your voice come out stuttered, one that proves to San that he's on the right track, cooking you up deliciously.

San might be a tease, but ohh, Y/N. You’re just so fun to tease, aren't you?

“P.. Please, Sannie,” you murmur, shyly, voice whispery because the headache fizzles inside your head, rather cripplingly slowing down your thoughts. He knows he likes it a bit too much, you being shy, but there’s something twitching inside his pants, when San thinks about the things he can do to you tonight to make you react even more, a smirk hurrying onto his face.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and you watch him collectively gather the bits and tits of his vivid, loud, rocking mind, silence remaining strikingly strong between you two, your head beaming everytime he doesn’t say anything to take his time to think.

“Things you were doing with that pillow for example,” San hushes. Your hands move by themselves to unbuckle his belt, and while you do blush a little bit, both your hands get the black leather strip out the clip with hurried motions. “Or the things you were doing to my thigh just a second ago, sweet sunshine.”

Your boyfriend snickers and once his belt is on the floor too, he shuffles a bit to the back and wraps his fingers around your ankles, pulling you so you lay straight on the couch, while he’s kneeling between your legs, cowered as small as his big frame allows it.

“I- I don’t think I understand yet, Sannie,” you droop, wanting San to get more explicit with you so you can swim in his vulgarity that he oozes, and also make him finally confirm you don’t have any reason to be embarrassed about being the only one whose guts are demanding to be stirred. He’s getting more bricked up, and since his baggy jeans are hanging loose now, you can see his cockhead bulge out his boxershorts. “I think you need to explain it more…”

You gulp at the wet patch and flutter with your eyelids, and with San’s thumbs caressing your love handles and leaning towards over your torso, his heat radiates to your face again. You were feeling a bit more bold, but no, you could never get used to how intensely San looks at you. His eyes speak a thousand words, sing a million songs, and they’re all about getting a bite of the red on your cheeks and taste how it will melt into his tongue. There’s a droning buzz which thumps into your eardrums and it’s blood rushing to your head at the incalescence of your boyfriend, who doesn’t let a second pass where he’s not touching you, even when he’s pulling off your t-shirt from your body.

“Hmmm, maybe you’re just not able to listen correctly, my love,” San sneers, almost paradoxically sweet, and arousal boils in your guts, while your sweated body gets used to the new temperature, your boyfriend’s hands cupping your breasts once, just to have finally get a touch. “Because of the headache, right? Mmm, right,” he murmurs to himself, and San unravels the bandana on his thigh.

You look at how he straightens the fabric in front of you, and how his hands slowly approach your head. “Will you let me fix that, sunshine?”

“Wh.. What are you going to do, Sannie?”

“Show,” and San instantaneously corrects himself, after he lets the slightly warmed up fabric drape over your forehead, ”hmm, make you hear,” to then let it fall over your eyes, getting very close to your ear, so his warm lips line your earlobe, his raspy voice reverberating in your ear. “Make you hear yourself, Y/N.”

“Yeah..?”, you whisper, and look at San for a last time– his eyes sparkle in excitement that can’t be heard through the droopiness of his voice:

“Listen to how my love makes you feel, baby.”

Ayayay…

“How is this, Y/N?”

“Lemme see,” you joke and you blink a few times, after the bandana has been tightened behind your head. It is pitch-black dark in front of you. Quickly, you feel how you’re getting more aware of San’s breath coming through and leaving his mouth– you following his slow pace soon enough– and feel especially how his rough fingers are tucking in your hair so he gets to see all of how your face muscles pull together in pleasure, sending your cheeks and nose into a ticklish wave of sensation.

“It’s,” you say, but what was once a steady voice turns– after getting goosebumps all around after San courses down your neck to your sternum with the tips of his fingers– into a whimper: “A- amazing, Sannie.”

You hear San sigh, and you’re sure it’s a sigh of awe, him watching your hand search for his so you can hold it. He intertwines the fingers immediately, and when he’s at your shorts with his other hand, fingers delving to where your hip fits perfectly into his hold, San begins peppering kisses on your abdomen, you falling apart into a tense, sensitive mess at the cause of his touch.

“Can you feel how my fingers and lips feel against your skin?”

You weakly nod, his thumb chafing over your skin, as San gets his hand out and touches you everywhere.

“Words, sun. Your pretty voice, I need it to continue, alright?”

“Yes, Sann–”, you answer, but you shudder, when San lets his digits dangle over your breast, ghost-like little grazes spreading over your torso, shoulders tucking in by themselves, as you feel it run over your back like your wings are expanding, “nngh-nie…”

“So soft, aren’t you, sun? So soft for me,” your boyfriend murmurs against your fuzzy tummy, and hooks his fingers into your waistband. You were intending to hum a forlorn ‘mhm’ to answer him again, but it comes out whimpered, after San lets his thumb, which is still anchored to your hand, slither over your cunt, his thumb tickling over your now even more sensitive nub.

“Can you feel how warm you are?”, he whispers, becoming a bit greedier with the kisses he’s spreading down your pelvis-bone, accompanying how carefully he’s sliding your clothing off, your skin being more and more revealed to his eye, while you live with the uncertainty of darkness in front of yours. “How do I feel like, Sannie?”, you ask him, hearing your own voice ricochet in your throat, your ears have become more conscious of sound.

“You feel like,” he whispers, and then, when the shorts have reached your knees, and San breathes against where your cunt is soaked in your panties, he purrs, “you’re mine.”

His voice condenses warmly there, like a sweat, and you clench just by how raw your boyfriend speaks. The thought of him seeing your soaked cunt also just makes you run hot, and if it wasn’t for his elbow keeping you open, you would’ve closed down on him.

“Y- yeah?”, you shudder, as it seems that San is breathing in the lust-sodden heat from between your legs.

“Would you like to say it for me, sun? I would love to hear it…”

“I’m.. I’m y-yours, Sannie,” you choke out, and you are really not meaning to be as shaky as you are, but just when you thought you knew what you were about to get touched at your erogenous area, San has somehow managed to hover over your body and has bit into your lip, the darkness in front of you feeling even more blurry in front of your eyes due to the sudden gesture. “Hmmn–!”

San chuckles. “Aww, relax, sunshine. Trust me, Y/N, okay? I won’t hurt you, but if I do, just tell me. I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures the safety you find yourself in, despite not seeing anything in front of you. As you nod and let out a confident “Yes, Sannie,” with a deep breath in, San hums and pinches your nipples.

“Sannie!”, you whine out, and your voice cracks, when you feel his tongue circle your bud and his eyelashes flutter against your eye-collar, seemingly soothing the little surprise with his warm saliva. “Yes, sunny? Do you want me to stop?”, San asks, his cocky grin unmissable in his voice, his other thumb tickling your nipple.

“N- no, I-I mean–”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice is slightly lispy from how your nipples are stuck between his lips, San softly sucking them in, pecking your flesh around with cottony kisses.

“Yes, good… v-very.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes, more.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” San laughs throatily, and then traces your silhouette, making you even woolier than before, a little squirm leaving your mouth, when his thumb meets your feverish crotch. “Your sounds,” San sighs, and presses his lips against your neck, his upper body slightly weighing into yours, as it seems that he’s holding himself up by grabbing into the backrest of the couch, “are my drug, baby.”

“Mmm-hm,” you answer, trying to keep your mind where his voice leads you, but you’re too busy feeling how San’s fingers sift slowly through your folds, softly, carefully, feeling every inch of slick squelch warmly around his digit. “Fuuuck,” San grunts into your ear, circling his fingertip around your clit, causing you to grab his wrist that has wandered to the top of your head. You have to gulp, and your boyfriend takes it as a sign to go a bit slower on you, but it doesn’t stop San whispering things to make you spiral into a hypnosis. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re so fucking sexy…”

A whimper leaves your opened mouth, as San chuckles in awe and coats his fingers with more of your arousal. “Is this what happens when you watch me play, sun? Getting all wet for Sun Set?”

It feels like your head is going to fall off your neck, when you softly nod up and down, San’s finger continuing to make you clench by stroking over your clit. “Th- this is what happens when,” you murmur, pushing down on his wrist as your lower abdomen continues to flutter and his lips nibble at your neck, his tongue working around a sensitive spot, “wh- when my boyfriend kisses me and then ignores me for an hour…”

“Aww, ignoring you?”, San whispers, easing his fingertip at your entrance, your hot hole immediately tightening around him, “I could never ignore you, my love…”

“Hngh, I don’t think so, Sannie… You were so concentrated on your drums…”

San whispers out, “I’m sorry”, as he curves his finger a little, caressing your inner skin fondly. You feel how thick his digit is and your glutes tense up. It doesn’t stop you from speaking your truths though.

“It’s okay, Sannie… It looked so… fucking… hot.”

“Really?” Your boyfriend gasps, always loving how you sneak in some brass into your words, and sucks lovesomely at your neck, his humming vibrating against your pulse, his finger pushing in through your arousal that gives him an easy entrance. “So say again, I made your head hurt because I’m so ‘fucking hot’, sunny?”

“Mhm,” you answer, and after San’s whole finger curls inside, you mewl out, “you’re the hottest man there is, Sannie– you’re– you’re so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. Only you can make me feel like this…”

“Fuuck…”

Your words seem to rile your boyfriend up very much, it is getting very difficult for San to not immediately run his fingers in and out, maintaining a slow pace that you feel expanding your tightness. “S- Sannie, you… you make me so crazy,” you whine out, his fingertip grazing over your sweet-spot, making you clench, “You make me feel so amazing, y- you are amazing, such a good musician and boyfriend, baby, you’re– nmmmh~!”

San couldn’t help himself and had to finally kiss you, his plump lips encasing your mouth, tongue running over yours the second he’s able to find contact. The warmth of his sweet saliva floods your mouth and you have to moan in some air.

“‘mmmsorry, sunny,” San mumbles, and you’re so sure that there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips, when he knocks his head back. “Couldn’t wait. Hehe.”

His lips peck yours, as he’s working his finger inside you, rotating it around your deepest spot. Sighs leave your mouth every chance you get, as you try to not be overflowed by the pleasure that’s stirring your guts and cutting off your breath.

“You feel so good,” you breathe out, “Can you feel it too, Sannie?”

“Hmm?” San is more than a bit out of breath now, warming up the fabric over your eyes with the loud exhaling through his nose.

“Can you feel how… Can you feel how much I love you?”, you ask, but before San can answer you, you grip into his wrist again, gathering your confidence through your pleasure, “How fucking aroused I am because of you?”

“God, Y/N, I can feel it,” San huffs, and then pants with his cock twitching at your unforeseen blunt courage, “You’re so wet for me… Only for me… Oh, sunshine, I love you so much.”

Though you can’t see how he’s biting his lip in excitement, San is moving his finger in and out of your hole while shuffling to your lower body, gripping your ankles with his free hand to gently place them over his shoulders.

“Sun, can I eat you out first?”, San asks, his voice running warmly over your abdomen, as he licks his fingers clean, “You can wait for me, can’t you, Y/N?”

“Wait for you–?”, you whirr, feeling exactly how thick and calloused San’s finger is inside you, lubed up by his spit, not being able to feel anything else, “Wait for wh- what?”

“Wait for me to fuck you, because right now, sunshine, I want to, god no, I need to eat you out, please, baby.”

Overwhelmed by his sudden lust-soaked rambling, you’re left with no other chance than to search for San’s neck, trail up his head and grab your boyfriend by his hair, let it tangle between your fingers, as San breathes against your dripping pussy. “Mnhh, do whatever you want tonight, Sannie. I want you to.”

“I want you, Y/N. ‘Want you so fucking much, sun… God, I don’t know how I waited, either.”

You chuckle and feel how the couch brushes against your back, leaving some phantom scratching there, after San pulls you closer by your hips, his forearms stationed around your pelvic bone.

“... So worth though, fuck.”

A sigh escapes your opened mouth, as San licks up your cunt one time, his hot tongue gliding up the wetness with ease. “Hngh,” you grunt, pulling San’s hair, and since your boyfriend hasn’t re-entered his finger, you clench around nothing, needing to be stuffed again, preferably by his cock.

“You taste so fucking good,” San grunts back, already sounding like he’s drunk and delirious, lapping over your clit with his tongue while panting like a dog, “so so fucking delicious, sunny.”

“S- Sannie, oh my god,” you react to how your boyfriend sprints over your sensitive nub, your heightened senses drowning you in your own slick, as you hear how San’s tongue creates squelching, wet sounds.

“Hmmm? Feels good, huh?”

“Sannie, s-so good, god– you’re so– fuck fuck fuck–”

“What am I?”, San asks tauntingly. It seems he’s found some fun in the manner you’re tripping over your own words at the cause of his tongue. You don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning, you can feel that he’s enjoying himself by how his chuckle heats up your cunt even more. “Tell me, sunny, what am I?”

“You’re so– good! Sannie! Fuck, Sannie, you’re gonna make me–”

“Make you cum? Already?”, San grins, his fingers working you a beat that could only be described as irregular, him pumping in and out and licking you up and down so fast, he leaves you no time to recover from the last thunderous pleasure. “God, I love you so much, ‘m gonna make you cum so fucking often, all the time,” San murmurs, letting his mind roam free, your arousal coating his lips and tongue, while you tug his hair to keep yourself from choking on your own breath, as it becomes more stagnated and needier, filling out your lungs with helpless pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, oh my god,” you whimper, eyes rolling back that you are seeing bliss and bliss only.

“Gonna cum?”, San husks and thrums against your sweet spot until your thighs tense up, “are you cumming, sunny?”, his fingers continuing to ram into you, “cumming for me?”

“Yes, uh- oh my god, yes, yes, yes–”, it splurts out of you, “yes, yes, yes, YES!”

“Thaaaat’s it…”

You push your legs together, San’s head clutched between your thighs, as his tongue runs over your clit that little stars begin to form in front of your unseeing eyes, your first orgasm resonating through your body, his voice vibrating on your cunt.

“Good girl…”

“F- f- fuck,” you whimper, your stomach crunching together, and you feel San’s thumb caress your abdomen, as he places wet kisses all across your pussy.

“Sannie,” you breathe out, falling to the back in exhaustion, as your boyfriend pulls away and kisses all of your legs down to the calves, folding you together even more.

“Yes, sun?”, he asks, and massages your hips.

“I wanna see you, Sannie...”

“Oh yeah?”, San chuckles.

You nod and tug at the bandana around your eyes, but it’s too tight. “Please, Sannie, I wanna see you so bad… I wanna see my handsome boyfriend,” you murmur, your cunt still pulsating between your legs, barely recovered from your orgasm.

“Yeah?”, San hums and leans forward, his jeans pressed against your wetness, as he gets his hands behind your head and loosens up the knot. “Careful, sun,” he whispers, kissing your temple, as he slowly removes the fabric from your eyelids, the dimmed lights flickering into your vision.

“There you go,” San hums and slides the bandana away, letting it sit behind your head, as he looks down at you. Your eyes struggle to see immediately and you have to strain your eyebrows, but your boyfriend patiently just watches your pretty face get used to seeing again. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer and blink with some force. San slithers his hand against your neck, his thumb sitting at your jaw, as your eyesight assuredly returns.

There he is, grinning, just like you expected him to, but what you didn’t expect is how absolutely messy you’ve made him. His red, fiery hair is disheveled, ruffled, sticking out to all kinds of directions, his lips are puffy and still wet from kissing you and eating you out, his thin breath leaving his mouth.

“Felt good, huh?”, San asks, rather rhetorically, as you subconsciously lean your face into his handhold, in awe of how handsome your boyfriend is and how lucky you are he’s yours, as his lips peck yours.

“Mhm,” you chuckle, a bit weakly, but with your hands skidding along his sweaty silhouette, it should become quite clear that you’re not finished. “I want more, Sannie, please.”

“Aww, can’t get enough of me?”, your boyfriend croons and lets another hand slide behind your waist to– “I’ll get you all you want, my love,” make you sit on his lap, or rather on his abs, after he tilts his body to the back with you in his arms and scuffs his baggy pants from his legs.

“Speaking of which, I thought we might wait until we’re home,” San admits and kicks his jeans away, “so I got no condoms on me, sunshine.”

“Mmm, Sannie, you know we’re okay,” you smile and kiss him. “Your bandmates don’t care about stuff like this…”

“Sorry for caring about you?”, San grins and pinches the tip of your nose. “So you’re fine with me just pulling out, yeah?”, he asks, as if you haven’t talked about this over and over again, but you keep on that smile and caress his cheek.

“Yes, Sannie. It’s all okay, and I want you so bad right now, please.”

“Alright,” San smirks and kisses you back, propping up his legs, so you slide onto his crotch.

“How do you want it?”, he asks, and you can feel how hard and throbbing hot he is in his boxer shorts, as you grind on his length. “I-I don’t know, Sannie, I want it all,” you laugh, airily, your slick adding to the wet patch that has been created by his pre-cum.

“You wanna watch me how I fuck into you?”, San prompts, and kisses your collarbones. “Uh-huh,” you sigh and throw your head to the back. “Please fuck me so you can see what a mess you make me, Sannie.”

San laughs. “I already saw that, sun,” he says, playfully teasing you, and gently grabs your legs, so he can lift you up and get his legs away from the couch and his feet on the floor.

You sit on the couch how a couch is supposed to be used, your back leaning into the cushion, San now standing in front of you, cups his own erection through his boxer shorts, grunting into his hand.

“This is your fault,” he says, snickering, pulling off his underwear, his cock bolting out, after it passes his waistband. “God, Y/N, how could I ever concentrate on my drums when I have my perfect girlfriend sitting in front of me, huh?”

You press your lips together, ignoring the fact that Sun Set can, in fact, concentrate on his drums, but San is merely explaining to you that with every song he plays passionately, uses his all of his body to accompany the music with energy, you, Y/N, live in his mind to excite him.

San gets your legs between his arms, anchoring your inner knees at his bicep, and your hand works automatically to grab his erection and pump it.

Realizing you haven’t given him an answer because you were just too amazed by his body, you inhale to speak, but San leans down and kisses you solicitously.

“Sunshine,” he breathes out, looking you deep in the eye, as his forehead is almost pressed against yours, “can you put it in by yourself?”

You lick your lips, the last kiss lingering ardently on the flesh and lead San’s cockhead to where your cunt is waiting, ready for his girth.

“Sunny,” San grunts, and as your hole stretches out with his pelvis driving inwards, he kisses you on your neckline repeatedly. “I love you so much, I love how you sound, feel and look like, how good you are to me,” he rambles, immediately sinking into a place of pleasure. “I love everything about you, Y/N.”

He may not be a singer, not even a background vocal, but off-stage, San always makes sure you know what a great girlfriend you are by moaning, whimpering and groaning it, sometimes just to himself– mindlessly thrusting into you, or directly into your ear, so his voice buzzes through your head.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you whine, head falling to the back and bouncing against the backrest after his whole length is inside you, “So good, Sannie, please don’t stop.”

San confirms your comfort and hauls his hips backwards to snap inside again with a slight smack against your hamstrings. You both moan and once San has found a steady pace, the room fills with your voices and sounds of your skin meeting in a clap.

“Harder,” you grunt, and this is San’s command he will never not listen to, even when he’s still working his hips in and out of you, figuring out a way to comply immediately. He grins wide and goes through his hair, before he leans deeper into your body, taking a step closer as he does so– repeating your words by chuckling, “harder?”, folding your knees together and pushing them over to the side.

“Y- yes, please.”

“Harder,” San repeats again, and exhales the word out his mouth, his hand gripping into your hip. “As,” he grunts, thrusting into your cunt with all he’s got, “you,” again, while fixating you in place, “wish,” and again, “my love.”

You both inhale some air, but out of your mouth, it comes out a distorted moan, when San picks up in speed and rams himself into you with no mercy, barely any opportunities to secure yourself on the cushion beneath you. The couch begins to squeak with San’s rough movement, your body being rocked over, and your head becomes light, the expanding tickle in your abdomen binding itself together into a knot of pure pleasure that’s preparing to release.

Silence is sweet, but clamor can be so savory; the sounds of the springs under the cushions mix up with his stagnated gasping, and with San’s absolute undefeatable sense for rhythm makes it sound like he’s creating a drumbeat with his body, the couch bangs against the wall, increasingly sending your brain into overdrive. San’s cockhead hits the deepest spot in your cunt repeatedly, over and over again, pushing your buttons that makes you feel like your thoughts are leaving your head within your whiny moans.

“Oh, fuuu-uuuck,” you gutter, voicing out your pleasure through all of the rutting, your eyes disappearing behind your head, and San’s neck shimmers in sweat, his Adam’s apple glistening, as he unfalteringly shoves forward and outward, grunts and groans reverberating in his throat. His face is tightened together, mouth remaining open, as he watches you slowly lose it, the prettiest of sounds entering his ear which boost his stamina.

“Fuck, sun, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers and rams himself through you, his hips working desperately for his release, ignoring how the couch is being unsettled and broken with each of his hard thrusts, and his hand is dug so deep in your hip, the skin has turned slightly red. “Are you cumming?”, he grunts, and despite how much your head is bobbing anyway, you nod and whine out, “yes, yes, yes, Sannie, I’m cumming–!”

Your eyelids feel heavy, and your body floats in orchestral pleasure as you cum on San’s relentless cock, gripping into the couch with your fingernails, as your back arches, cunt tightening around San.

“God, baby, I love you so much, I love you so so much, Y/N, my sunshine, my–”

San pistons his cock into your puffy pussy with an unmeasurable speed, the shrill squeaking of the springs overtoning his needy whines, the banging against the wall being resemblant of his rough body-movement, and droplets of sweat drop of your body, as your boyfriend pulls your over by your hip. His hot cum spurts out and lands on his own abs, as well on your stomach, and you heave in exhaustion, laughing weakly.

His hand pumps out the last drops of ejaculation out his cock, and even if his cock remains hard and twitching, San falls to the front and hugs your sweaty body, kissing your cheek and lip alternately.

“That was,” you chuckle, watching how San has to brush his drenched mane to the back, “amazing, Sannie.”

“Yeah?”, your boyfriend asks and strokes your shoulder. “You forgive me?”

“Hm?”

“For the headaches, sun. Do you feel better now?”

You snicker and share a short, but very gentle kiss with San. “I feel so good, Sannie, thank you.”

His dimples pop out and San fetches your clothes, whilst rubbing his head against yours, nuzzling his temple into your scalp. “I’m glad I could relieve you, sunshine.”

San turns his head around and searches for something to clean up the cum with, and all he finds is his bandana on the couch. “Hey, I’ll wash this, alright?”, he laughs, when you send him a judgmental look, and to calm you down he pecks your forehead.

“Help me get my clothes on, please,” you murmur, and as you feel your body going lax, San immediately grabs your underwear, shorts and his hoodie so you don’t feel cold again. “Mm, I should get you more of my stuff,” he smiles, after he’s put the oversized clothing on you, “you look so cute in my hoodie, sunny.”

“Really?”, you answer, voice guttural, feeling a bit sheepish under San’s affectionate gaze, you being the only one that’s clothed, while he remains pretty much naked, skin sweaty and steaming.

“Yes, love, but honestly, you always look amazing, Y/N...”

Your eyes were drooping down, but you couldn’t have missed how San’s voice was deeper and huskier than it should have been.

“Baby… Please… I’m exhausted…”

When you squint, San is licking and biting his lower lip and because he is so exposed, you can see how his cock is glistening again, while you can only leave out a sigh. Your boyfriend’s stamina and energy should be studied…

“Sorry, you’re just so hot,” San chuckles out and gets his boxer shorts on. “Body and mind do what they want sometimes.”

“... And you want me, I get it, okay… God, Sannie.”

“Yeah. I want you so much.”

You, sat on the couch, watch him again, Sun Set, how he’s scratching his neck, his impassioned pulse beating in his muscular chest, beating for your gaze, you, his girlfriend’s voice, your words, your entrancing existence, the melody that guides him through his life.

A playful chuckle whirs in the silent practice room, and your eyes meet his, as you look up to San.

“I guess we’ve got to take a shower at home.”

Give me a command, and I'll do what you ask 'Cause my favorite music's your "Uh, uh"

related hard thought "for you(r) love" : read it here

#cromernet #choi san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #choi san fluff #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #chokkiwa #chokko

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cherrrydragon · 5 months ago

Text

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FIVE: GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY

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SUMMARY ↳ Spider-Man and homecoming, when did that ever end well? He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?” You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said. “Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: fear gas (people get affected but it's not described), spiking drinks (not with the intention of taking advantage of anyone) wc: 5.9k

Your mind is elsewhere as you perform your warm-up stretches in the dance studio. Progress with the particle accelerator had been slow. Tony Stark had access to all the materials he needed when he built it, but you don’t. Not to mention all of the welding, cutting and assembling you’ll have to do. You're occupied in your thoughts, but you still hear footsteps approaching.

Victoria. She has her hands on her hips and is looking at you like you’re the nasty chore she’s stuck with.

You raise a brow. “Yes, Vicky?”

Despite all of her faces of disgust when you call her that, she hasn’t demanded you stop calling her that.

“I don’t know why I expected you to be paying attention, clearly you are too airheaded otherwise,” she huffs.

“You’re right, dearest, I wasn’t paying attention. Please, enlighten me.”

“Our instructor has just announced a winter performance. For a grade, of course.”

You sigh. “Of course.”

“We,” she drags the word out, disgruntled, “are the leads.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh. This’ll be fun.”

“I will not let you embarrass me, so I will make sure you are a suitable lead,” she huffs.

“And how do you plan to do that, my dear?” you sing, circling her. Your fingers tap her arms as you walk.

She clears her throat. “I will make sure you are paying well attention and are performing adequately.”

“Sounds good to me, princess,” you say, walking away and extending a hand to her. “Shall we?”

She sighs dramatically and puts her hand in yours. It’ll be a long couple of months.

Your extended leg rocks your web hammock back and forth as you think. A song is hummed under your breath, pondering your next move.

“How far is Metropolis from Gotham?”

“Depending on your method of travel, it could range from an hour to 4 hours.”

You have no doubt LexCorp is very well protected in terms of its security measures, but Lex Luther seems a bit of an arrogant man. If he were to find out you had managed to break in and swipe some material, he might not do anything in embarrassment of being had. On the other hand, he is also pretty paranoid, so you have no idea what type of crazy defenses he has.

WayneTech is a very hesitant maybe, for pretty much the same reasons. Batman will already be on alert from your little hacking show earlier.

“Perhaps we shall simply wait for the opportunity to present itself to us, [Name].”

“We’re trying to leave as soon as we can, K,” you whine, bouncing a web ball back and forth between the wall and you.

“You can’t rush perfection.”

“Oh, you flatter me, K.” You lean over and fall out of the hammock, landing gracefully. “But I can never argue with you, lovely. I guess I’ll just have to make due with stuff from the school.” Hopefully they don’t notice the decline of materials.

Patrol goes smoothly that night. You've gone back to listening to your certified patrol playlist now that you’ve gotten back in the groove of things. You hum to a beat as you walk alongside the roof, grooving slightly. You run through equations and formulas in your head as you think about your next headway with your project. You still notice the footsteps approaching, though.

“Which one are you?” you announce, shifting slightly. You don’t get an answer, so you turn around. The figure standing behind you is shrouded in darkness, but a glint of moonlight reveals a familiar silhouette.

“Nightwing!” you hum pleasantly. “Pleasure, quite a pleasure. To what do I owe the visit?”

Nightwing shrugs. “Standard stuff, really. Making sure Gothams latest pest problem isn’t up to no good.”

You chuckle. “That was pretty good.” You sit down on the ledge. “I assure you, blue, that I have Gotham’s best interest in mind.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that Gotham likes you, for the most part.” Nightwing sits next to you. “Of course, the webs you leave irk them just a bit.”

“They dissolve,” you defend.

“They do,” he agrees, and lets the conversation die. Distant sounds of sirens fill the silence. You can see the blue and red lights from here. You and Nightwing share a moment of calm amidst the chaos.

“Every time I think Gotham can’t get any weirder, I hear news of a ‘giant spider’ terrorizing the criminal underworld.”

You snort, “yeah, that was my bad. I totally had rumors spread about that.” You can see his eyebrow raise underneath his domino. “It was funny!”

“I guess Gotham attracts all kinds of people,” he hums.

“And yet… it’s home,” you whisper.

Another brief silence settled between you, tinged with unspoken tension that always sneaks up on you in Gotham.

“So, did the big Bat put you up to this?” you ask, breaking the quietude.

Nightwing shrugs casually. “Nah, this is all me. Don’t worry though, I’m sure B will corner you eventually.”

“Charming,” you huff dryly against his chuckle.

“And of course, crime never sleeps in Gotham.”

“And so, neither do we,” you smile.

He turns to you. “Surely someone as young as you should be getting more sleep?”

You hum. “So Robin told you about little ole me, huh?” He shrugs sheepishly, in a can you blame him? kind of way. “Like I told him, I’ve been doing this for years.”

“So what’s a young person like you doing spending your nights fighting crime?”

You scoff, “oh, don’t give me that. The first Robin was barely out of diapers when Batman paraded him around.” You ignore Nightwings dramatic gasp of offense. “I’m doing the same as you, trying to make a difference.”

“But no one would blame you for just trying to live a normal life in spite of your abilities.” You’re not sure what exactly Nightwing is trying to achieve here other than getting you to spill something about yourself. What’s it to him what you do in your free time?

‘Yeah well, someone once told me something. Kind of changed my life a little.” You take a deep breath and recite the famous spidey quote, “With great power comes great responsibility.” You turn to face Nightwing. “I can’t in good faith live a normal life when there are people that need me. I have the power to help people, why wouldn’t I do just that?”

You hope your speech passes whatever test he had for you, and the way he stares at you before nodding suggests that you did.

“Just…” he hesitates. “... be careful out there. Gotham’s a tough place, even for someone with your talents.”

You’re not sure why he cares so much, but Dick Grayson does have a sort of a bleeding heart. You watch Nightwing stand, nodding at you before grappling away. It was nice to not have a more violent encounter with one of the Bats (looking at you, Damian). You’re left with the quiet of your own mind.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of dance rehearsals and lab work. Victoria, true to her word, pushes you hard. She ensures every step, every movement is perfect. You can’t help but admire her dedication.

“Remember,” she snaps one day during a particularly grueling practice, “lean into the spin. It will further your momentum, making your performance overall smoother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you smirk. Your classmates take notice of the way the two of you dance around each other. You’re sure you both appear really intense to them.

One new development you’ve reluctantly acknowledged is homecoming . You don’t care much for it, you’d rather spend it working on the badassium or patrolling. However, it’s a good way to sneak in and take some more material, so you’ll probably show up for a bit then sneak away. You just have to get through all of the sickeningly sweet hoco proposals.

In other news, you’ve finished your painting that you were assigned for art. You stole one of Miles’ designs from his spray-paint pieces, you hope he won’t mind. It’s a figure outlined many times in all kinds of vivid and bright colors.

“What is it?” Pipes up Damian from your side. Lately you haven’t really interacted much, you’re far too busy trying to make this universe's history books.

“My project,” you reply vaguely. At his unimpressed stare you elaborate, “it’s supposed to be a bunch of different versions of one person. Different people living the same life, one person living different lives, yadda yadda.”

Damian hums, satisfied. You take a breath, spinning in your chair to face him. “So, Damian,” you start, smiling at the way Damian’s face automatically scrunches in irritation. “Anyone special in mind for hoco?”

Damian tsk’s at the thought. “I will not waste my time indulging in such a frivolous activity.”

“Yeah, spiked punch and sweaty teens grinding on each other probably isn’t your vibe,” you agree.

“Then what better things do you plan on doing?” You rest your legs on his side of the table, invading his space. He ignores it, to his credit. He’s gotten used to your antics.

“Doing something far away from you.” You bark out a laugh at his response. You retract your legs and massage your feet. For all your super strength and resilience, ballet is still killer.

Damian eyes your movements. “How are your dance classes progressing?” Damian’s gotten better at conversing, you’re just surprised he chooses to do so with you. But then again, you’re sure he still thinks you’re the number one suspect as to who Spinnerette is.

“Victoria is a delight, as always,” you roll your eyes. “She’s more of a teacher to me than the actual instructor. She’s thorough though, knows her stuff.” You pause. “Think she’ll say yes if I ask her to hoco?”

His eyes narrow. “You jest.”

You close your eyes and nod. “I jest. I stand no chance because she’s waiting for you to ask her,” you grin, eyeing his eye roll. You furrow your brow in thought. “They accept people from other schools, right? Maybe I’ll ask Jon…”

He straightens in his seat. “Jon?”

“Oh yeah, you guys are friends, forgot.” You didn’t forget. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out lately.” It’s true, Jon frequents at least once a week for movie night. You’ve also exchanged numbers, affectionately naming him ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’ in your phone. “You think he’d say yes?”

“Do not even think about asking him,” growls Damian. Woah.

You hold up your hands in defense. “My bad dude, didn’t know it was like that.” Jeez, it’s not like you're going to corrupt Jon or anything. Then, you slump in your seat. “Maybe I’ll just skip it, then. Going alone is only cool if you’re cool.”

“If it means so little to you, why bother?”

“Opportunities, D. It’s all about opportunities. Plus, who knows? I could be missing out on the chance for something big. Like my rich future spouse.” Damian scoffs, and the bell rings. You grab your stuff and set off to practice, Damian falling into step beside you. You groan.

“Come on, man. Vicky’ll put me through hell when she see you with me.”

‘Maybe that’s my plan,” he smirks.

“One moment of peace with you. That's all I want.” Predictably, Victoria’s eyes narrow when Damian drops you off at the studio. However, she doesn’t waste time fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Hurry, get dressed,” she demands, turning away from you two. You share a look of surprise with Damian as you step inside. Perhaps this show is more important to her than you thought. You get changed in record time, hurrying back out lest you encourage Victoria’s wrath further.

The hour passes in a blur of graceful movements. Your hands grasp Victoria’s waist as you lift and spin her. She spreads her arms and legs with all the elegance of a true dancer. You wonder if she wasn’t set to inherit whatever her parent’s set aside for her, would she have pursued a career in dance?

“You’re getting the hang of it,” she admits, a hint of begrudging approval in her voice.

“Only because of you,” you flirt, smiling with your teeth. She rolls her eyes but says nothing.

A knock sounds on the door. The instructor gets a giddy grin on her face and practically hops over to open in. You and the rest of the students stop practicing in curiosity. Behind the door is your typical jock type, with a bouquet and a poster in his hands that says ‘Will you PLIÉse go to Hoco with me?’ It’s clever, you’ll give him that.

“Victoria Hearst, will you do me the honor of going to homecoming with me?” Your classmates clap and cheer in awe of it. Victoria gasps, walking up to the jock, but pausing. To your huge surprise, she turns to you. Her eyebrows are furrowed, like she’s confused.

You’re not sure why she’s looking at you. Maybe she’s waiting for your approval? You can’t think of why she would want it. Personally you wouldn’t be caught dead with his type, but maybe he’s sweet on the inside or something. You give a smile and gesture her forward.

She purses her lips, before smiling charmingly at the boy, nodding. The class erupts in cheers once again as the pair hug. The instructor, for all her giddiness earlier, quickly snaps at everyone to go back to their places. Practice continues well into the evening. You get a small wave from Victoria when you depart home, a pleasant surprise.

You end up outfit shopping with Jon the day before homecoming. The boutique you’re in isn’t too fancy, even though you can afford more with Bruce Wayne’s ever so gracious stipend.

“Maybe I should wear blue, the same shade as your eyes. I like them,” you mutter, thinking. Nothing here particularly catches your eye. You suppose you shouldn’t care so much, it makes no difference to you. Besides, you won’t be spending much time at the dance anyway, you’ve got material to steal after all. But Tony has instilled the art of appearances into you, and you don’t want to disgrace his teachings.

Jon gulps beside you, still not used to your random flirting's despite the fact it’s been weeks. “I thought you had a thing for hot pink?” he asks as you pick up some simple heeled dress shoes.

“Yeah, but I’m not going for a bold look this time around.” You place your hands on your hips. “Maybe just plain old black is the way to go,” you say, grabbing a black suit off the rack and examining it. You hang it over your arm, deciding that it will be the way to go. It’ll be easier to hide in the crowd when you look like the rest of ‘em. “Now, for accessories…” you mutter, looking at the earrings on display. You pick up some faux emerald studs and examine them.

“I like this ring,” Jon pipes up. You turn around and see he’s holding a simple flowery ring with a blue gemstone in it. You hold out a hand and he slips the band onto your ring finger. It looks at home.

“Looks good,” you agree. You pack up the earrings, ring and the suit and take it to the register. You pay for it and Jon picks up the bag for you. What a gentleman.

The walk back to your apartment is filled with mindless chatter between the two of you. Nari greets you when you open the door, meowing real cutely. You press a bunch of kisses on his skull, because he deserves them. Jon places the bag on your couch.

“Well, since I’m not allowed to ask you the hoco, I’ll try it on just for you, yeah?”

Jon blinks. “Not allowed?”

“I mentioned it to Damian, and he made it very clear I was not allowed to take you.” You lean in and whisper in his ear, “between you and me, I think it’s because he wants to ask you.”

Jon snorts. “I doubt that,” he mumbles, watching you go to your bedroom to change. “I would have had to say no anyway, I’m… busy that day.”

“Well, I guess I was saved from an awkward moment,” you holler through the door. You make sure you look clean and put together before stepping out. You spread your arms and do a twirl.

“Well?” you ask.

Jon’s mouth is ever so slightly agape. His eyes seem to sparkle a little as he looks at you. Blue meets blue when he stares at the ring on your finger. You watch as he stands up, walking over to you.

He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?”

You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said.

“Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars.

You chuckle, abashed. He holds out his hand for you, waiting.

“Oh, wait!” you gasp. You dash over to your laptop, opening youtube. Jon watches as your fingers dash over the keyboard. ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ fills your apartment. The song has always reminded you of him. You race back to Jon, finally putting your hand in his. He quickly pulls you close to him.

“Queen?” he chuckles, placing his hands on your waist. You throw your hands over his shoulders, scoffing. “Nothing wrong with Queen.”

“No,” he agrees, swaying with you. You spend the rest of the evening together.

Walking into the academy’s gym, you’re immediately blasted with loud music and colorful lights. Everyone is looking quite dapper, but like you suspected, a bunch of black suits. You fit right in.

You sip a bit of the punch, grimacing. Nobody spiked it yet? You’re surprised. Yeah, this is a prestigious school or whatever, but teenagers will be teenagers. You guess they’re all too pussy to do it. No worries, you’ll do it for them.

“I don’t believe this is wise,” says Karen as you pour some alcohol into the bowl. “It’s only a little amount,” you reassure. “Drunk people are less likely to notice things.”

You observe the people of your school. They’ve long gotten used to your presence, hesitantly making room for you. Still, you aren’t really a part of them. You sigh. You know you sound like a broken record, but you really have to get back home. The last time someone stayed on an Earth not their own was Miguel, and well… you know how that ended.

In other news, you’ve spotted Victoria! She looks real pretty, all dolled up. Her hands grip a cup of punch as she stands next to whats-his-face. He’s chatting with his jock friends, completely ignoring her! Hell no, you’re not gonna let that slide.

You wait for his friends to go away before sneaking up on him. “You better dance with her, asshole.” It’s satisfying to see him jump and look around to see who said that, but you already walked away. He scratches his head, before walking over to Victoria. It’s satisfying to see her face light up as they walk to the dance floor. Your job here is done.

You find your way to the gym doors, peaking into the hallways. No one’s there, surprisingly. You scurry down the hall. You visit the lab first, swiping any and all things you think you might need. The blueprints left behind by Howard Stark are kind of obscure. They weren’t meant for anybody but Tony, after all.

Next you make headway to your engineering workshop. Seeing it now, it looks pretty spooky without the lights on. You walk into the storage closet where all the materials and parts are kept. It’s actually pretty big. You think you might be in Heaven. You set your backpack down and go through everything. You stuff various metals and scrap into it, tools and switches, fans and whatnot. Then, you spot it. A glass chamber, hidden in the corner.

You grab it carefully, examining it. It’s the perfect size for your nanite chamber! You grin. You have no idea why there’s a big glass tube just in here, but hey, you’re not complaining. You carefully make room for it in your bag, hauling it over your shoulder. You poke your head out in the hallway, no one’s there. You sigh, content with your scavenge. Humming under your breath, you make your way out of the school.

behind you right behind you grabbing yOU–!

You turn around quickly, eyes wide. You just looked around, there was no one there! A hand lays outstretched in the air before you. Your eyes travel up the offender's arm and meet green. Damian. Of course.

“I thought you didn’t have time for such frivolous activities,” you blurt, for lack of something better to say. You grip your bag strap tight.

“Who else would keep an eye on you?” he grunts. You coo, “do I attract your eye, then?” Performing a spin, you miss the way he looks you up and down.

He reaches out and flicks your emerald earring. “Tell me why I shouldn’t report you for theft,” he says as he gestures to your bag.

“Because I’m… awesome?” you try. It doesn’t work, clearly. Damian’s looking at you like you’re the very epitome of ‘human disaster’. “It’s for my personal project, lay off.”

Damian steps closer to you, and you finally have the time to really take him in. He’s got a simple dress shirt covered by a black vest. Dress pants, dress shoes, all looking very expensive. An elegant satin green tie pulls it all together. You hum appreciatively as you look him up and down.

“And what exactly does this ‘project’ entail?” he murmurs, grasping your hand and examining the ring. Flirting with you to get you to spill? Smooth.

“You like it?” you ask, referring to the ring. “Jon chose it.”

Damian furrows his brow immediately, looking at you. You grin. “He said he liked it on me, specifically.”

Damian huffs, dropping your hand. “I’m not building a world-ending weapon or anything. I’m allowed my hobbies,” you say, laying a hand on his chest as a way to calm him. “Honest.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment, opening his mouth to speak–

BOOM .

The ground rumbles, Damian grabbing you and you grabbing him. You stay locked together as you stand still, listening. Screams erupt, coming from the gym. Damian pushes you towards safety in a nearby janitor’s closet.

“Stay here, lock the door,” is all he says before running off towards the gym, no doubt planning to save the day as Robin. Way to be subtle.

Karen already knows what to do, letting the suit emerge from your bracelets under your sleeves. You sprint towards the gym, opening the doors silently. People are hiding behind and under tables, whimpering. There’s a gaping hole at the end of the gym, no doubt the loud explosion you heard earlier.

The one and only Scarecrow stands in the settling dust. He sure lives up to his name, that costume is frighteningly ugly. He raises his arms, canisters in hand, and throws them into the crowd. They explode with a hiss, releasing plumes of noxious gas. Hell. No.

You spring into action, webbing the canisters to try and block the spread of the fear gas quickly. A few gasps are heard from the students. You turn to them. “The fuck are you waiting around, for? Run!” They heed your call, quickly finding their way to the doors on the other side of the gym. Scarecrow tries to throw a canister at the running crowd, so you quickly web it, sticking it to the wall.

“You cannot save them,” he taunts, gesturing to the few students that still got hit with the fear gas. “Their fears will consume them, just as yours will consume you.” Ah, right. You are standing right in the middle of where his first cans exploded. Time to find out if your suit blocks the fumes.

A batarang appears, knocking Scarecrow's canisters out of his hands. Robin, the man himself, lands next to you. You can’t help but quip, “I thought such a prestigious school wouldn’t be so easy to break into?”

“It isn’t,” is Robin’s dry reply.

“Well, looks like someone missed the memo,” you retort, eyes locked on Scarecrow. You survey your surroundings, there’s still some lingering kids, plus the one’s victimized by the fear gas. “Handle him, I’ll get them out of here,” you command. Robin nods in understanding.

You jump away, quickly webbing up the fear gassed victims so they don’t hurt anyone or themselves. They scream and trash, making you wince and mutter rushed apologies. You kick up a table, depositing them behind it. Robin is holding his own against Scarecrow efficiently.

A couple of rushed whispers escape you as you encourage the leftover students to follow you out. You guide them, ducking under tables until you reach the doors. You breathe, the only one left is–

Victoria. Where’s her date? Did he leave her to save himself? Asshole, you swear. You call for her. “Hey!”

She turns to you, looking worse for wear. Her makeup is running down her face, carefully tied hair now loose in disarray. Poor girl. She runs over to you, tripping into your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper as you usher her to the exit.

“Spinner!” Robin yells. You turn around in time to deflect a throwaway can of fear gas. Victoria whimpers in your arms. “It’s alright, Vicky,” you say breathlessly. The last you see of her is her wide eyes as you shut the door.

Scarecrow growls in frustration. “You!” he points at you. “Why are you not affected!?”

A clawed finger clinks against your mask as you tap it. “My suit’s really cool like that.” Thank God , you weren’t sure if it would repel the gas. With a flick of your wrist, you send a web at Scarecrow to restrain him. He dodges, just barely.

“Or maybe I’m just already living my worst nightmare: a villain with a bad fashion sense,” you quip, weaving around. “Now let’s wrap this up before I start critiquing your escape plan.” You launch a web up at the ceiling, letting it carry you up. More webs grasp at Scarecrow, tugging him to you. Robin watches as you tie him up, Scarecrow flailing uselessly in the air.

You ignore his speeches about how ‘fear is eternal’ and ‘you’re delusional if you think you can stop it’ in favor of dropping him to the floor, roughly. You land next to him, leaning down and dragging him with you to the hole in the wall. “I’ll leave you here as my thanks to the GCPD.”

Robin comes to a stop next to you. “Call me corny, but you and I make a pretty good team, no?” you say, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Do not flatter yourself, I did most of the fighting.”

You snort. “Yeah, but I got him in the end, didn’t I?” Robin shakes his head. “I’m just surprised you’re not shriveled up in fear like the rest of them.”

Robin crosses his arms. “I am capable of holding my breath.” Your mind wanders to inappropriate trains of thought, making you grin. The sound of sirens get closer, signaling the approach of the GCPD, and probably the other Bats as well.

“Well, I get terrible police anxiety, you know how it is,” you say, taking steps out of the hole. Robin follows you out. “Bye,” you say, before swinging away. You round the building, letting the suit retract back into your bracelets. You enter through a back door, avoiding cameras. You quickly straighten out your ruffled appearance, making your way to the gym. Some students are lingering around on their phones, either showing each other what they recorded or calling somebody to pick them up.

You pass Victoria on the way. She’s holding her arms, hugging herself. She raises her head and stares at you as you approach. You pause in front of her, not really sure what to say. She probably doesn’t want your comfort, so you’ll keep it brief. “Glad you’re okay,” you say as you awkwardly pat her shoulder. You quickly scurry inside the gym, feeling what you’re sure is a judging stare.

Just as you thought, some of the Bats are here, administering the antidote to the victims. You make a show of looking for Damian, just in case he’s watching. There’s an incessant buzzing in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you swipe open Jon’s messages.

please get this boy some brown contacts

why did i just turn on the news and ga was attacked

hello?????

are you okay??????

please be okay

why arent you answering are you dead

please dont be dead

Your heart churns at his worry. You just want to gnaw on him, he’s so cute. You send a selfie of you throwing up a peace sign with the police and Batman in the back.

yeah lmao im ok

shit was crazy but damian shoved me a closet all romantically and then ran off

looking for him rn hope he aint dead

he told me he wasnt even gna come what a liar

oh my gosh youre alive no way

are you sure youre okay im pretty sure you just experienced something really traumatic

YES jon like i said i was in a closet the whole time

well im glad damian shoved you in there

also yeah he is a stinkin liar sometimes

You chuckle and let the conversation die. You make sure to answer Sam’s concerned messages with the same selfie and reassurance.

“I see you are alive and well,” comes Damian’s voice behind you. He’s got his hands in his pocket casually, looking completely put together and not like he just fought crime. He’s good.

You huff and turn around to face him. “Yeah well, it’s hard to die when you’re chilling in a closet that somebody shoved you into,” you snark accusingly.

He scoffs, ”I practically saved your life.”

“And then ran off. Where did you go, anyway?”

Damian turns his head, surveying the law enforcement as they work. “I helped in aiding the other students escape.” Yeah, whatever.

“Oh, really? We got ourselves a hero type over here.” You cross your arms and bump him gently. His head lolls with the movement. “Maybe you really are Robin.” He ‘tsk’s, but says nothing. You let the silence consume the both of you, eyes wandering the scene. Concerned parents cry in outrage at their fear gassed children. You wonder if they’ll sue. Then, you notice something.

“Why is Batman looking at me like I just cursed his entire bloodline?” you ask Damian, making him drop his arms and look to where your eyes are. You’re exaggerating, it’s hard to tell exactly how Batman’s looking at you with the cowl and the distance, but he isn’t exactly being subtle.

“That’s just how he usually looks,” says Damian, trying to remain casual. You are pretty damn sure he’s trying to signal to B that he needs to chill. Karen confirms that he actually is in your ear. Your mouth twitches as you wrangle a grin under control.

“Well, tonight was lame. I’m gonna go home before the big bad bat decides I need to be ‘vengeanced’ or something.” You turn around and begin walking away. “See you around, Dami.”

Damian grabs your arm before you can get far. “Let me walk you.”

You raise a brow. “Trying to figure out my base of operations?”

“It is late and you shouldn’t be going home alone. Especially after tonight,” he gestures to the scene.

You shrug. There’s really nothing to hide at your apartment, and he definitely already knows where you live regardless. “My hero. Okay, if you insist. But you’re paying for the ticket.”

“What ticket?” he scoffs. “My butler will be driving.” Oh. Right.

You scoff. “Of course you have a butler.”

He places a hand on your back to guide you out. You risk a subtle glance behind you and see that Batman is still looking, but more so at Damian now. You make a stop to the closet Damian shoves you into to pick up your haul, ignoring his side-eye. It seems he has let it go, for now.

Cold air greets you as you step outside with Damian. Arguably one of the coolest characters in the DC verse stands beside a sleek looking car, Alfred Pennyworth. You’re a big fan.

“Master Damian, Mx [Name].” He greets primly, stepping aside to open the door for you both. Damian nudges you in, and you make sure to thank Alfred and give him your address as you slip inside. Damian settles in beside you, his arm pressing into yours. You look out of the window as the drive commences. There’s not much to say.

“Tonight could’ve gone worse,” Damian says, breaking the silence. “I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

“Grateful, sure,” you reply, not taking your eyes off the city lights flashing by. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t happened at all.”

He nods, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “True. But then, I wouldn’t have had the chance to save you.”

You roll your eyes. “Is that what you’re going to hang over my head forever? ‘Remember that time I saved you in the school closet?’”

Damian chuckles, a rare sound that makes you glance at him. “Perhaps. But I think you’d do the same.”

“You know me so well,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You lean back in the comfortable leather seat of the car, feeling the tension of the night slowly ebbing away. The drive through Gotham's streets is surprisingly smooth, with only the occasional sound of sirens in the distance to remind you of the chaos that unfolded earlier.

As you pass under the shadow of skyscrapers, you steal a glance at Damian. His profile is illuminated by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the car window. Despite the adrenaline of the evening, he seems composed, almost serene.

He catches your glance and turns to meet your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of lingering intensity from the night's events and a quiet contemplation that seems to soften his usually sharp features. The silence between you feels comfortable now, no longer laden with the tension of earlier encounters or the urgency of the situation you just escaped. You offer a smile, and this time he doesn’t have any reaction. Just a calm expression.

“We have arrived,” Alfred announces softly as the car comes to a stop, almost hesitant to break the silence. You step out of the car, giving Alfred a nod of gratitude before heading up to your apartment. You turn back one last time, meeting Damian’s gaze before unlocking your door and heading inside. As you settle in, you can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something else you can't quite place.

You drop your bag next to your bed and collapse in it. Nari comes trotting over, hopping onto your mattress and curling up next to you. Tonight was anything but lame. And as reluctant as you are to admit it, Damian’s presence made it a bit better.

You close your eyes, letting sleep take your mind.

notes: i know in a lot of peter parker in gotham fics they have that "dick grayson is richard parker in a different reality" storyline so i think im gonna try to reference that just a tad, since reader is peter parker just not yk.

in other news, im gonna TRY to update every weekend or so. keyword try.

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #dc x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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sunkissedscribbles · 2 months ago

Text

The Beach

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x poet!mentally ill!reader

genre: angst, a wee bit of fluff

tw: mental health issues, swearing

word count: 2008

summary: enzo comforts you when having a mentally rough period

a/n: my soul needed this one. i don't really want to label reader's mental state because in my mind bpd was the starting point but I think it would fit under the terms of depression as well, that's why I haven't specified it in the pairing (and because i'm not a specialist). also, it contains one of my poems I have not yet posted on my main.

playlist: The Beach - The Neighbourhood

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It hasn’t even been a month since the new school year started, only two weeks. Two weeks got you utterly exhausted, and even that was an understatement. It felt like you had forgotten to talk, taking a little too long to answer, to process things – to think. Your head felt heavy with emptiness, your entire body ached as it didn’t seem to be able to release stress, holding onto it deep in your bones, low in your back.

It wasn’t just fatigue, it was emotional and mental exhaustion that made you want to lie in bed all day, yet your sensible side made you get up every day and go to your classes.

Those damn lessons.

You went to all of them, tried to siphon in as much of each subject as you could but your mind was elsewhere all the time.

At how sick you were.

At how tired you were.

And in the afternoons you did nothing other than lie in bed, trying to convince your mind that it was okay, there was nothing wrong with you, and that you needed to study.

Just five more minutes.

Oops, It’s been ten minutes ago.

Anyway.

You’re gonna start studying at next-hour-o’clock.

You didn’t.

At dinner you were only pushing your relatively small portion of food back and forth on your plate, your mind foggy with very negative thoughts as the chatter of your friends next to you blurred into an indistinctive mess of different voices over your head.

You were silent,

and lethargic,

all the time.

It was after dinners when you lay in bed, hoping this was a phase or something you’d eventually get over. But in the back of your mind, you knew you wouldn’t.

And you didn’t really want to, either – you felt so down, so numb that you felt like you couldn’t move in the direction of getting better.

Not properly.

Not permanently.

Lying there, alone, you couldn’t think of anything better than causing your own pain, physically – at least you’d feel something, wouldn’t you? Even if it’d hurt – maybe you’d deserve it. Maybe you’d deserve it because you had spent your entire summer not doing anything valuable, pushed down these feelings of despair, hurt, pain, depression. You didn’t study saying you couldn’t pay attention and you were tired – of course you were when you kept staying up endlessly, only getting mere hours of sleep and not eating enough.

Maybe you did deserve to feel this way.

You missed the affection, just a hug at least, from your friends. But you have been so withdrawn from them and they were all beating around the bush, not knowing how to corner the question of your visibly deteriorating mental health.

It was Enzo though, who paid the most attention to you; he knew you like the palm of his hand, even if you hadn’t realised it. He cared about you, probably more than he should’ve. He’d known all your mood swings, and even when you had better days, he knew you were going to be just as down, if not even worse in just a matter of days.

He couldn’t bear seeing you like this, he missed the carefree, loving Y/N you were. He missed his Y/N. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his heart as your tone only made it obvious just how tired and ill you were. Every time he saw you scribbling into your notebook he knew contained your poetry his heart ached, even when it was just two words.

He knew you were starting to give it all up.

Life.

You didn’t cry, and that was obvious – you’ve never been one to cry much or cry immediately when something relatively bad happened, or when it was something that you took too personally, nor when one of the bandages you thought were securely protecting your wounds were ripped off, not suddenly but slowly to hurt even more as it stuck to the surface of your heart. No, you took it, held yourself together, trying to maintain the facade you built so well and perfected over the years of suffering from whatever game your mind was playing with you.

Because the more people knowing you’re hurt the more able to hurt you.

Because the more pain you show the less people will think of you.

Because the more you trust the more leaving you and hurting you in the end, the more betraying you.

You were more on the bottling-up side, but the bottle always spilt in the end when it couldn’t hold more.

More suffering, more floating, more silence, more pain.

So, two weeks after your seventh and last year at Hogwarts had started, here you were, writing a new poem in the Astronomy Tower.

I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace, you wrote the last two lines, the cool autumn breeze in your hair.

“Y/N?” Enzo’s voice echoed through your ears, and closing your notebook, you looked up at him. This was the day the bottle broke – you’ve been crying before writing your poem.

Startled by your red eyes, he looked at you with concern. “Y/N, were you crying?” he immediately crouched down in front of you, and as he took your face in his palms gently, you could feel the dam break again. You didn’t like this. No, you couldn’t be crying in front of him.

“Just, uh, tired,” you answered in a low tone, trying to convince him – or yourself, rather.

He looks down at the notebook and shakes his head, “Liar. Let me see.”

You hesitated – how could you possibly show him what you were feeling? It took you weeks to be able to put it into words, and it’s not too happy. “Please,” he asked softly, one hand caressing your cheek, the other reaching down for the notebook in your lap. And you let him, knowing he’d get what he wanted anyway.

You saw his facial muscles twitch and tense up as he read its title, his hand falling off your face: ‘goodbye.’

His eyebrows knotted in a frown at first, glancing up at your once lively eyes, now missing the bright, pure shine they used to have.

You watched as his expression became sad and even more concerned as he breezed through your lines written.

these lines; I plan them to be the last ones I write and speak, so that I can be free in a world where pain doesn’t exist, where no clouds disfigure the sky. I go tonight; I don’t regret and don’t look back, I’m not afraid to leave anymore, I give up the fight, I end the war. i lie down tonight and drift to sleep, I unite with nature forever, and release the built-up hurt and pain. I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace.

“Y/N, you–” he shook his head as he lifted his head again, meeting your eyes. But you, you couldn’t look into his, you felt like you’d break immediately. You were afraid of what emotion would look back at you. Hurt? Sadness? Disappointment? Or would he look at you differently?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head, keeping it hanging low.

He cupped your face again to make you meet his gaze, gently yet forcefully tilting your head upwards. His eyes, as always had that caring look in them, mixing with concern, and a sense of fear that he’d lose you washed over him.

He’d lose you, before it was nature’s job to cross your path together, before he could even confess to you.

“...Why haven’t you told me?” he asked in a low, broken voice. Fuck, he couldn’t lose you.

You couldn’t answer him at first – how could you tell him that you’d been feeling like shit for weeks again? That the longer you’re alive the less you’re living? The more days you survive the more of your want to live, and the more of your shine you lose. you took a long breath and with a tremble tugging at your lips, you shook your head while a stray fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/N, darling…” he pulled you in for a hug and as his arms enveloped you tightly, your salty tears started raining down your cheeks again, lading on the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m sick…” you sob into his chest, not able to hold anything back anymore, not in front of him as your fists clutch the fabric on his back. “And I’m tired too.”

You weren’t fireproof, that was for a fact, and he knew it too, probably better than anyone. You didn’t want to burn in your own flames but you felt it, felt it burning you and spread over onto him, burning him too. You were holding on to him for dear life, hoping your own miserable state of mind wouldn’t murder you.

“...I hope I don’t burden you,” you trembled against his body and he held you tighter.

“You could never,” he assured you, shaking his head. “Never, honey. You’re not a burden.”

You didn’t need to say much, he’d known almost everything already. He just held you tight against him, as if you could just slip away and disappear if he wouldn’t – and the truth is, you could’ve, especially in this state. And you kept gripping his hoodie as you slowly calmed down in his arms, while his heartbeat gave yours a soothing rhythm to follow.

You were slowly coming to your senses that felt numb all this time – his cologne was a nice mix of sandalwood and citrus which filled your nostrils and made you feel at home, even more at ease, his touch warm and soothing under your sweater, rubbing your skin through the thin layer of your shirt, his voice sending your mind into a state of contentment as he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and yet again, you couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. You’d been friends for a long time and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you two have built up over the years.

Then the three little words left his lips involuntarily; “I love you.”

You felt him stiffen against you as the realisation that he indeed said that out loud hit him, and coming down from your surprise, and trying to control your rapid heartbeat, you lift your head from his chest and meet his eyes. How could he love an emotional wreck like you?

“Y-you what?” you asked as if you hadn’t heard it right.

He gulped, trying to swallow his fear of rejection before repeating his words, “I said I loved you,” he led his hands onto your waist under your sweater as you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, but kept drawing you in lightly.

Without any further hesitation, you crashed your lips against his, afraid this was only a dream, hence wanting to enjoy every second of it and take it to the fullest.

His lips were so soft and moved so in sync with yours, and you wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever, wrapped in his embrace, with your lips connected, your tongues dancing around, making your mouths a ballroom, available for only them.

You pulled back just to come up for air and to clarify one thing. “I love you too.”

Your words sent a jolt of electricity and happiness down his spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours before reassuringly whispering to you, “I’m not leaving. We’re in this together and you can count on me, anytime, anywhere. Just- don’t shut me out. Please… I need you here with me.”

You nodded against his skin and let out a heavy sigh. You knew it would be a long way, a really deep dive. But until it was him swimming with you it didn’t matter that you were out in the open. It wasn’t a sudden light, a newfound wave of relief taking you out to the shore, but the beach seemed closer than ever.

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare

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taesanluv3r · 5 months ago

Text

lost in love songs.

han taesan x reader

a short, three part, friends to lovers story.

ੈ✩‧₊ hidden love unfolds when taesan's ipod nano accidentally ends up in the hands of his best-friend, yn. a certain playlist catches her eyes, revealing the true feelings kept within the depths of the boy's heart.

part three: can't help falling in love.

confessions, first kisses, so much cuteness my heart swells. lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors! enjoy <3

wc: 4,019

masterlist 𖦹 part one 𖦹 part two

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i need to talk to you"

taesan couldn't sleep at all, her words just circling around and around in his head all night long. the five letter text message written in big bold letters playing in his mind every single time he so much as even tried to shut his eyes. he lies awake, sighing when his eight o' clock alarm rings through his ears. he was going to confess to her today. he had to. it was the only way he or his friend could get any sort of closure, whether he liked it or not. their meeting time was still in another two hours. the boy grabs his phone, instinctively going to check the messages, her messages.

last active 6.45am

seems she couldn't sleep either, though neither of the friends contacted each other while they were awake. no exchange of words, unlike the way they usually did. taesan's stomach hurts, he's restless and he just can't seem to lie still. he gets off of his bed, walking around his room once, then twice, and then a third time before resorting to sitting on the chair near his desk. with a light tap of his finger, the laptop in front of him turns on, a slight buzzing sound from the gears within the device that began to work. his reflection on the screen disappears when the tabs he had opened the night prior appeared before him. the boy's eyes glimmer slightly at the sight of his music folder, countless of demos and drafts scattered in a somewhat organized manner in the little blue folder. his finger slides against the silver track-pad, the air conditioning right by his desk making the surface cool to touch. taesan bites his lips as he clicks, a collection of his unfinished originals popping up above all the other opened tabs.

the boy sighs again, a hand roughly stroking through his bed-ridden hair as his eyes make contact with two songs in particular. those were the same songs he had downloaded onto his ipod the other day, the one that was now in the hands of his best-friend who he had in his mind throughout the whole writing process. taesan curses at himself, regretting ever even making such stupid songs. but it's all her fault, he thought, if she weren't so...her, maybe he wouldn't keep writing these love songs. he scrolls down in frustration, eyes following his cursor as they go through about a dozen more songs about her. a dozen more songs she didn't need to know about, the songs he once swore she'd never see.

the boy's finger moves up again, back to the very top two tracks in the folder. he let's out a deep breath before pressing down, allowing his own music to flow through the air. an unfinished song,

can't help falling in love.

taesan's eyes shut closed, his back leaning softly against his chair and he immerses himself in the tune. soft piano fills his ears, his eyebrows knitting together when he hears his own voice. just like the other song, this one shared that same honey-like feeling. it was very unlike the usually upbeat and, as his friend would call it, emo sound that he typically produced. for some reason though, it was somewhat more...authentic. like despite his edgy exterior the boy was just born to write these cheesy songs that he swore weren't 'his vibe'. he hums along quietly to the lyrics, not wanting to wake the rest of his family that were very much still asleep at such an hour like this on a saturday morning.

her eyes shine like diamonds, her lips stained pink like rose quartz. she speaks so loud with confidence, yeah i envy her voice like sweets of sorts. and i just can't shake this feeling, and i just don't know what's wrong. when she looks at me i'm melting, elvis was right cause i can't help falling in love.

the sound of the lyrics he wrote himself makes him sick for a second, his eyes opening and his body darting forward to hit pause. the tune abruptly stops, his heavy breathing all too loud when silence engulfs the atmosphere. taesan is tense, the sudden reality of the situation he was in had become too real, too much for his liking. the boy blinks in long intervals, his teeth clawing at his bottom lip and his hands that were pressed atop the table forming fists. the boy loses himself for a moment, his mind overflowing with every possible scenario, every kind of reaction this girl he had been so hung up on could've had to the feelings he poured out into his songs, this girl who was his only friend, this girl he might've of lost forever.

he stops himself from screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes glancing at the number on the top right corner of the screen. only one more hour to go. he decides its finally time to get ready. taesan takes a shower, washing his hair with the olive scented shampoo that his mom had bought for him on a sale the other day. he brushed his teeth, making eye contact with the mirror as he dried his hair. the boy spends the next thirty minutes trying on all of his clothes, almost throwing a tantrum and leaving the room in a mess when nothing seemed to feel right. by 9.35 he had decided on a black band tee, the faded smiley face logo of his favourite band contrasting perfectly with the dark wash of his denim jeans. he stares at himself in his floor-length mirror, his hands fidgeting in the air as he begins to rehearse every way the confession that awaits him with his best-friend could possibly go. the shy boy does this often, he finds it hard to speak with people and it makes him feel better to practice beforehand. however, he's never had to do this with her, she always made it easy for him to talk. so why now? why does he feel so nervous and...scared?

"and i just...i think you're cool and- no, i think you're pretty chill and- pretty chill? ugh! this is so stupid!" he groans, launching himself onto his bed and staring angrily at his ceiling. just then, the familiar notification sound of his phone grabs the boy's attention. taesan stretches an arm out towards it, his eyes lighting up and his body going back into sitting position as he reads the text from the girl who'd been running laps around his mind since last night.

yn meet you at the playground

the boy feels a cluster of butterflies in his lower abdomen, a small smile unconsciously making its way onto his lips at the mere thought of the pretty girl conversing with him.

i'll see you there

he shuts his phone off before she could respond, jumping off of the mattress and stumbling into his black leather shoes, all while simultaneously throwing on his coat and spritzing just enough of his signature perfume. he greets himself one last time in the mirror before he leaves, letting out a breath as he nodded to his reflection, so as to tell himself 'good luck'.

the boy was out the door now, not forgetting to bid his family goodbye leaving them to wonder what he was so jittery about. his feet trots over to the bus stop. the playground was closer to her place, almost an hour away from the boy if he were to get there on foot. his fingers tapped impatiently against the silver railing of the bench, no one else was there because no one else had plans so early on a weekend. five minutes go by and the blue vehicle finally comes to a stop in front of him, the automatic door sliding opened as he stepped into the bus. "where you off to this early on a saturday, kid?" asked the old man who had both hands on the steering wheel. "going to tell her the truth" the man chuckles at the boy's mysterious response, watching from the rear-view mirror as he slumped himself onto one of the seats. taesan watches as the trees go by, his eyes wandering over to the people on walks, the children on their tiny bikes, and the couples sharing a morning cup of coffee. the boy reaches into his pocket in search of his music player, lips pursing into a straight line when he remembers its whereabouts. he didn't even have his earphones with him, he couldn't listen to music on his phone even he wanted to! and no music meant no distractions, nothing to focus on apart from his own thoughts he began to get lost in once again.

at last, the bus arrives at his stop. taesan gets up from his seat, a hand gripping onto the yellow handle near the door as he begins to get off. "hey kid" the old man's voice stops him. "huh?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked up in curiosity. "good luck with that girl, rooting for you" the driver's encouraging words paired with a warm smile gave the otherwise nervous wreck of a boy somewhat of a confidence boost. he shoots the man a smile in return, thanking him before hopping out the door. a new sense of security as he strides towards the gated entrance of the park. he walks with his head down, eyes focusing on the way his thick shoes created indents against the grass. he only looks up when his feet reaches the familiar cobblestone that surrounded the playground.

he holds his breath for a moment and his heart rate went up by tenfold. there she was. in the rather empty area, the only other sound apart from the pumping in his chest was the breeze. a smooth blow of wind that cascaded through her hair, causing the swing in which she sat to sway slowly. his gaze lingered for a moment, staring longingly at his best-friend, myung yn. a harsh gush of wind swept the boy off of his feet, sending his body to move forward all of a sudden. the noise that escaped his mouth causing the girl on the swing to turn around and face him. the two stood like that for a while, not uttering a word and just staring at each other from a distance. yn was the first to look away, her head tilting towards the direction of the other swing beside hers, inviting the boy to come and take a seat. taesan takes painfully slow steps before finally making it to the empty swing, the old steel bar from which it hung on creaking a little at the pressure of his weight. still, neither of them spoke a word. her eyes fixed onto the two little birds a couple feet away from them, and his own ones focused right onto her.

"yn..." he begins, though his voice is a lot deeper than usual. taesan wants to tell her everything, just the way he had planned, he had so much to say and yet for some reason all of those things just wouldn't- no, they just couldn't come out. "here" his eyes widen when she speaks, the boy's gaze falling onto her hand that appeared in front of him. his ipod nano in it, and his worn-out earphones de-tangled and wrapped neatly around the device. "oh" is all he managed to muster out, his own hand reaching over to retrieve it. taesan's touch lingers against her skin, sending a wave of goosebumps to decorate her body. it's silent all over again. minus the chirping of song birds and the rustling of dying leaves as they shed onto the green grass. the boy zones out, trying to find the right sentences to say. he's distracted by the thoughts running through his brain, perplexed when they all began to fade away at the sound of soft humming coming from the girl to his left.

the tune is familiar, though he can't seem to pinpoint where he's heard it before. "that song has been stuck in my head all night, i couldn't sleep" yn began, her voice still raspy from the lack of rest. she still doesn't make eye contact though, continuing to hum as she rocked slightly on the swing. "you write so well"

that's when it all clicked in his head. the song she had been humming, the same song he had made himself. the one about a girl, the one about her. yn's compliment registers in his brain, his head falling down to hide the way a pink shade appeared onto his pale cheeks, silently praying she couldn't hear the way his heart thumped beneath his shirt. "if only i could speak as well as i write" taesan finally talks, his voice making her turn to fully face him now. her eyes are big and a small smile pulled against the corners of her lips. "well, why don't you try? try to tell me about this girl" the way she asked him, like she hadn't a clue about the meaning of his songs, it comforted him a little. how could she be so...normal at a time like this?

he stutters, looking away from her as he opens his mouth to speak again. "well...she's the complete opposite of me and she makes me feel all weird and fuzzy inside and" - "you're always weird, but go on" yn chuckles, interrupting him jokingly. the sound of her laugh making him smile too. "and well, she's my best-friend- my only friend, but sometimes...i guess i just kind of wish we were more than that...i just don't want to ruin our friendship..." he trails off, his eyes getting watery all of a sudden; if you asked him why, he'd blame it on the breeze, but he knows that the real reason was the same one for his smile, the same on for his laugh, and the very same reason for his stupid little love songs.

taesan's body tenses up when he feels a cool touch of a hand tapped against his chin, his head being forced to lift up and to face her. to face yn who seemed to have also begun tearing up. "taesan..." she says, but her voice comes out hushed. her vision begins to blur and the boy panics, unsure of what to do. "yn..." now it was his turn to press his fingers against her jaw, bringing her glossy eyes up to look into his.

"i think i might like you more than a friend"

a gasp escapes her lips. she recognizes the line from his song, she knew since last night how he felt, but for some reason she's still in shock. it was as though the night before had just been some sort of wild dream and it was now coming to life. taesan stares deeply into her eyes, analyzing the way her breathing slowed down and her eyebrows relaxed. "i..." she begins, her warm breath that smelled of coffee blowing against his nose. the boy waits patiently in anticipation, a look of hope and worry washing over his complexion.

"i think i like you too"

a single tear falls out of his eye, a sight she had never seen before. for the boy she had known all of these years never cried. yn blinks, tears of her own threatening to follow suit. his hand moves to caress her cheek, wiping away the wetness that stained it. she giggles softly, finding his touch ticklish. he copies her, breaking into a smile as he sniffles lightly, wiping away his own tear-stained face.

the confession was a lot quicker and a lot more anticlimactic than they had thought or anticipated. the pair simmering down into another moment of silence as they swung softly with the air, the cool breeze blowing against the tiny hairs on their bodies. "so...you listened to the songs, then? i mean...obviously you did" the boy breaks away from the peace, his gaze moving towards the ipod on his lap. she nods, blushing at the memory of his love song. "only the first one" yn says, her voice fading out softly. "good" now she turned to face him, head tilted to the side as she did so. "the other one isn't done yet...and it's way more embarrassing than the first one" his voice is back to normal now, the jittery-ness in his previous tone long gone. "will you show me when it's done then?" she asked, watching as he raided his brain in search for an answer. "or maybe..."

yn gets off of her swing, turning around on her heels to stand right across the boy who remained seated. taesan looks up at her confused, not a clue as to what she was going to tell him next. "maybe you could write me a new one!" she speaks brightly, "one about how the girl of your dreams, me, became the girl of your reality" she's prideful, her head facing the blue sky as she spoke. "how 'bout that?" now she looked right at him, a hopeful look in her eyes contradicting the playful smirk on her lips. the boy can only stare blankly at her, eyebrows furrowing like she was speaking a language he didn't understand. yn rolls her eyes, waving a hand in circles over his face. "hello? earth to taesan?" he shakes out of his short trance, "huh?" the exchange of words gives the pair a feeling of deja vu. she smiles softly, "i just asked you to be my boyfriend and you totally zoned out...loser" taesan tilts his head to the side.

"you...me...boyfriend..huh?!"

she laughs out loud, grabbing onto his hands and lifting him off of the creaky swing. "you, han taesan. me, myung yn. boyfriend and girlfriend" she repeats for the third time, in simpler words for his brain to digest. this time, instead of just staring at her like a confused cat, the boy grins. "wait, wait so we can be like...together now?" she groans at his question, "taesan, if you make me repeat myself again i'll toss that stupid ipod into the fish pond!" he laughs when she compains, his eyes scanning every inch of her features. the way her eyebrows twitched when she spoke, the way her eyelashes fluttered with the wind, the way her nose scrunched up and the way her pretty pink lips sat in a pout towards the bottom of her face. he must've been staring at them for a while, the girl's pout flipping into a little smirk. "what's up?" she asks, his attention returning to her eyes. "nothing...can...can i..." he never finishes the sentence, but the way his lips were parted and the way his breathing got heavier, she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

yn takes a step forward, diminishing any amount of space they had between them before. the familiar feeling of her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine as both her hands moved up to cup his face. taesan is frozen still, letting the girl make all of the moves for him. she inhales softly before pulling him down towards her, finally coming in contact with one another. the atmosphere is stiff, the strawberry scent of her chapstick melting into his rather dry lips. the kiss lasts no longer than a second, the girl pulling away to stare in his loving eyes. regaining the consciousness that seemed to have left his body a minute ago, the boy's arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his grasp and their lips caught against each other's once more. this time, the kiss was natural and passionate. yn's arms sat around his neck, her fingers twirling against the ends of his freshly washed hair. their heads tilted in opposite directions, noses bumping as they got lost in each other's faces. slowly becoming messier and desperate as time went by. feeling a little lightheaded, the pair separate, gasping for air. his hands still placed on her hips, hers are now on his shoulders and they stopped to sink into the moment.

the air around them was warm, differing from the cool breeze that had surrounded them earlier. before long, yn's cheeks began to redden, the same shade becoming apparent on the tips of the boy's ears. avoiding eye contact, they looked away in unison, flustered giggles escaping their mouths the same way little children did when they were happy. taesan smiles brightly at her, and the girl reciprocates, the corners of her mouth dipping into little dimples against her skin.

"walk me home?" she asks suddenly, starting up conversation again. he nods, extending a hand out for her to grab before they began walking through the grass and out of the gated park. their walk was unusually quiet, but there was some sort of a comforting feeling that floated over them, hands remained intertwined the whole time, constantly stealing glances and blushing away awkwardly whenever their eyes met.

soon, they arrived at the entrance of her complex. taesan looks down at her for a moment, a hand scratching against the back of his neck that began to feel itchy. yn lets out a sigh, a frown appearing against her face. he looks at her with worried eyes, "what...what's wrong?" he stutters, though she only lets out another breath. "nothing. it's just that if i go home now, jaehyun is gonna bully me relentless about this whole thing!" the boy closes his eyes in relief, "oh, i thought something was seriously wrong-ow!" he exclaims, rubbing his forearm she just hit. "it is something seriously wrong! as my boyfriend you should be just as upset as me!!" taesan freezes at the term, a sense of shyness wrapping around his body the same way his weighted blanket did at night. yn is just as flustered, not expecting herself to say that, her attention moving to stare intently at the asphalt on the ground.

"well, as your boyfriend, what should i do then?"

his hands find home beneath her chin, lifting her pretty face up to look at him again. he looked handsome. i mean, she knew he was good looking this whole time but she swears he had never looked this...lovely before. his soft hair lazily falling against his shining eyes, his tall nose harmoniously balanced with his lips that wore a pretty smirk. "you know if you just keep staring and not giving me an answer i won't know what to do, yn" he rolls his eyes playfully, failing to hold back his laugh as he watched the ever so confident myung yn struggle with her words for what feels like the very first time ever. "i...i mean you...you should- um..." han taesan bends down slightly, pressing a spontaneous kiss against her cheek, their faces far too close and their noses almost touching.

"why don't you come over to mine? i'll show you all the other songs i wrote for you" her eyes widen at his words, "other songs? you mean you wrote MORE songs about me?!" taesan nods, his teeth showing when he smiles this time and the dimples below his eyes forming whisker-like shapes against his cheeks. "who knew emo loser taesan was such a love-sick derp" her sudden insult catches him off guard, a scoff escaping his mouth as he wraps an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close as they cross the street.

"and who's fault is that?" he asks, the right side of his face pressed against her hair. "whats that supposed to mean? it's not my fault you fell in love with someone as great and amazing as me!" she rolls her eyes, leaning onto the side of his chest as they walked in the opposite direction of her neighbourhood and towards the bus stop. taesan laughs, "well that's just it! when you're so great and amazing like that, i guess i just..." yn looks up at him, interested in what her boyfriend was going to say next.

"i just...can't help falling in love"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i want an emo love-sick derpy taesan ☹️ this is the end of my short series <3 i hope u guys liked it!!! and liked the lyrics i wrote for this and the last part too hehehehe 🙂‍↕️ reblogs n feedbacks are always appreciated!!!! tysm for reading, lmk what u thought 🧸 love, kona :3

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #taesan #taesan x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #bnd x reader

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storiesofsvu · 1 year ago

Text

Five Nights Pt 1

*not my gif* Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk. This is part one!! There is one or two more parts coming, it's a bit of a 5 + 1 trope/style but was getting too long so I figured I'd split it up. Following parts to come likely later this week!

Night One:

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d pulled the short straw and ended up sharing rooms, but at least it was with the silent stoic that was Hotch. He wouldn’t be rambling on about the case hours after leaving the precinct, he wouldn’t force the television onto some mind numbing trashy reality show and he didn’t snore like Rossi did. The only thing you had to ignore was the fact that you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree and were suddenly in much closer quarters and personal space than being in the field or office together.

The town was small, the hotel was cheap and the case was proving that you’d be stuck there for at least a week. All things considered, you needed some relief, some relaxation and all you could pray was that the sound of the shower would cover up anything else. For extra security you turned on a playlist on your phone, figuring that would be enough before you made sure the water was the perfect temperature and stepped under the stream. You let the water cascade over your skin, rinsing away the dirt and grime of the day as your eyes closed and you relaxed against the shower wall. Your hands began to roam your body, tickling at your skin as you let out little shivers, cupping at your chest you pinched your nipples, unable to hold back a quiet moan, Aaron’s name a whisper on your lips as you fantasized it was his hands sinking lower and lower on your body until you reached out for the small toy.

Out in the room Aaron was sitting on the bed closer to the bathroom, the television playing quietly in the background while he got caught up on paperwork. He could have sworn he heard his name, wondering if you’d forgotten shampoo or something in your go bag he glanced up, muting the tv to see if you’d repeat whatever you’d said. The shower was already running and suddenly he caught himself thinking about you naked and dripping, water trailing down your perfect skin and he couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his pants. Paperwork tossed aside he was about to try and calm himself down before he got to hot and bothered when he heard it again,

“Oh Aaron…”

It was faint, barely audible over whatever music you had playing but you had very clearly moaned his name. Following that he heard the tell tale sign of a vibrator whirring to life and a small whimper. Not only were you naked and wet on the other side of a very thin wall, you were touching yourself.

Touching yourself while thinking about him.

Pretending that he was in there with you doing all the dirty things he’d been wishing he could do to you since the day you met. He let out a low breath, his ears picking up a breathy sigh from the other side of the wall, his cock now hard in his pants. He knew it was a potentially disastrous idea, but you’d just gotten in the shower, if you’d decided to start with making yourself come, you still had to actually shower afterwards. He had more than enough time to get himself off to the sounds you were making through the wall.

Pulling his cock out of the waistband of his pants his thumb swiped over the tip, smearing the precum down his throbbing length. His eyes fluttered shut as his hand squeezed, stroking up and down, listening for any other sounds coming from the shower. With each little whimper, moan or gasp he could hear he twitched in his hand, doing his best to keep quiet as he groaned. He could picture you perfectly, water tracing down your body, fingers pumping into your tight little pussy as you fluttered around yourself, imagining it was his cock buried deep inside you. He thought of you on your knees for him, cock stuffed down your throat as you drooled around him, taking it like the good girl he just knew you were.

“Oh god Aaron.” The music was between songs, this murmur a little louder than the last one, “yeah… right there.”

He squeezed tighter around his length, his hand starting to move faster as he grunted, the coil tightening in his stomach. He imagined you on all fours for him, ass waggling back toward him as you silently begged for his cock before he was sliding it into your cunt, pushing deeper with each thrust of his hips. How warm and wet you’d feel around him, how tight you’d squeeze him, the noises you’d make even better than the little ones he could hear right now. Pleasure burst through him and he groaned quietly, cum spurting out of the head of his dick and onto his stomach. It was only a moment later he heard a quiet muffled cry from the bathroom followed by silence. He grabbed Kleenex from the nightstand, cleaning himself up and tucking his cock back into his pants, relaxing back onto the bed in the exact position he’d been in when you’d left.

Completely distracted by the images in his head and the sounds he wanted to lock away in his brain forever he didn’t even hear the bathroom door click or realize you were back in the room until you spoke.

“What’re you watching?” You asked, crossing past his bed as you glanced at the tv and he looked up.

“Uh.. it appears Futurama.” His eyes darted between the tv screen and you, noticing how tightly your hand was clenched around the shirt you were holding and his pupils widened, knowing just what you had wrapped up in there.

“Huh.” You buried your items into your go bag before you crossed to the bed, “makes sense, I thought it was Family Guy for a sec.” You buried yourself under the covers, letting out a very satisfied nearly dreamy sigh as you did so.

“That good of a shower in this kind of a place?” He asked with a small tease and you chuckled.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” You rolled away so your back was to him, “night Hotch.”

Night two:

The next day was exactly the same, work was work, there was no indication that Hotch heard you masturbating the night prior and there definitely wasn’t even a thought that he’d been touching himself at the same time. Returning to the hotel room you fell into the familiar routine, you dug through your go bag for your shower essentials, leaving Hotch in the hotel room to change out of his suit.

The sound of the water running took over the silence of the room and a moment later music echoed from your phone, Hotch unable to hold back a smirk at the knowledge of what you were about to do. A quiet whirring followed by a satisfied moan as the toy slid into you, your free hand roaming your body and you succumbed to your fantasy world. Aaron felt his dick twitch when you let out a quiet whine, wondering how long he would have to withhold making a move now that he knew. He wondered if this week sharing a room would present him with an opportune moment, or if you would bite the bullet and make a move. He was jostled from his thoughts at the sound of your voice,

“Dammit.” A frustrated huff and he realized the whirring had come to a halt, judging by your outburst, it wasn’t on purpose either. A clattering sound from the other side of the wall as you tossed the toy onto the basin and quickly finished your shower. It was only a minute later the door opened and you were changed into pyjama shorts and a tank, crossing the foot of Aaron’s bed as you made your way to your own.

“Everything alright?” He raised a brow in your direction and you nearly stumbled, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Ran outta hot water.” Distracting yourself with folding the clothes in your hands to place into your go bag you missed his smirk as he moved from his bed, grabbing his toothbrush and paste from his bag.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, you’d been on edge all day, trapped in an SUV with only him for most of the afternoon, the close proximity driving you wild as you tried to not let your imagination go too far. You’d been absolutely dying to get back to the hotel and take care of the pent up energy and now that Aaron was in on your little secret, he could tell. The grin remained on his lips when he flicked the bathroom light on and the first thing he noticed was the bright pink toy still sitting on the basin, unable to resist, he picked it up. The opportunity was staring him right in the face and he wasn’t about to pass it up now.

“You forget something in here?” He called.

“What?” You called back and he peeked his head around the corner. There was a large mirror across from the foot of your bed, a small table in front of it that you had your skin care laid out on.

“You missing this?” He asked, eyes gleaming as he stepped back into the room, holding up the pink toy. You re-capped the lotion in your hand, placing it down onto the table before glancing up and your eyes went wide. You felt the blush creeping up your chest as your heart began to race.

“Uh…it’s, uh, travel back massager.” You stumbled out, trying to cover your tracks, “you know how terrible the beds can be on these trips.”

“Mmhmm….” Hotch smirked, moving through the room to approach you, handing the toy over to you and you immediately tossed it into your go bag. “I sure do. I also know how stressful these little trips can be, it’s important to relax, and I’m guessing that little thing died on you?” He nodded in the direction of your bag and you gulped.

“Yup…” Your heart was beating a million miles a minute over just how close he was to you, never mind the smirk on his lips, the near teasing in his voice, his choice of words letting you in on the game. That he was more than well aware exactly what that toy was for, and exactly what you had just been doing in the shower. You should’ve known better, there was no way the walls were thick enough for you to not be overheard.

“You know…I think I’ve got something that could help you out,” he stepped behind you, eyes finding yours in the mirror, “all you had to do was ask.”

One of his hands came up to the back of your neck, thumb on one side with his fingers on the other and your breath hitched in your throat at the touch. His digits massaged for a moment or two, working down your neck until his hand slid to the crook of your neck and his free one came up to the other side, pinching at your body.

“Hmm… doesn’t seem too tight here. You must’ve been using it lower.” His hands slid over your shoulders, rubbing there for a moment and you felt like you were about to burst, your body tingling with pleasure already. “No… not there.” His hands ghosted down your back, settling around your waist as his thumbs gently dug into your lower back, occasionally slipping under the hem of your shirt and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet gasp at the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin. Hotch stepped closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist, his breath was hot on the shell of your ear when he spoke again, “here?”

“Hotch…” It was barely above a whisper, unable to control yourself, feeling the heat radiating off his body as you began to relax into him, your eyes almost threatening to close as a cloud of pleasure surrounded you. He chuckled, leaning down his teeth nipped at your neck and you let out a moan, this one loud and clear to his ears.

“Oh come on now, we both know that’s not what you were moaning last night.” He grinned and your eyes flew open, catching his gaze in the mirror as heat crept into your cheeks once again. “Now… I think you were using it even lower.” One of his hands wound around your body, pulling you flush to him as it slid down your body until it was between your legs and he cupped your pussy, squeezing softly and you let out a whimper. “Am I right?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, your knees felt weak when he massaged at your heat again and you let out a shaky breath.

“What do you say we get rid of these then?” His free hand came to untangle the knot of your shorts, “because I do think I can help you out much better than that stupid little pink thing.”

“Mmhmm.” Nodding furiously your fingers slipped into the waistband of your shorts, quickly tugging them down your legs and kicking them off to the side. Aaron remained behind you, eyes locked on your half naked form through the mirror, one hand holding your hip steady while the other slid up your body. He paused briefly only to grope at your chest through the thin fabric of your shirt, smirking at the little moans that escaped your lips when he did so. His hand continued upward, squeezing lightly at your throat and he felt himself twitch at the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you shivered at the touch. Finally his fingers found your lips, two of them slipping into your mouth and you eagerly sucked at them, tongue lapping around them.

“Good girl.” He cooed, softly thrusting the digits between your lips before adding a third one and you moaned around them. “God I bet you’d look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”

“Mmmhmm.” It was mumbled around his fingers and he chuckled at the way you nodded, sucking harder around him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasped out when he pulled his hand away from your mouth, “oh please yes.”

“Later.” His other hand pinched at your ass, “first I’m going to get you off far better than that little toy could, alright?”

He glanced at you in the mirror, waiting for your eager nod before his hand slid back down your body and his spit slicked fingers easily found your clit. Fingertips brushing against it in slow circles as he began to increase the pressure, your hips jolting up to the touch.

“Fuck…” You muttered out, tingles bursting through your body as you shivered in his arms. Aaron’s lips found your neck again, trailing messy kisses down your skin as his hand began to move faster. Your head lolled back on his shoulder; eyes fluttering shut as you let out another quiet moan. Suddenly his free hand was wrapping around your chin, tilting your head back up as he spoke,

“Eyes open pretty girl.” He murmured, lips brushing against your ear, “I want you to see how gorgeous you are, want you to watch the way my fingers disappear into that pretty pussy.” His hand sunk lower this time, fingers slipping through your folds, a dark chuckle vibrating through his chest before he lifted his hand, fingertips glistening in the low light of the room, “you dirty girl, already this wet for me?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, catching his gaze in the mirror and you blushed, your pussy fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Have you been wet all day? Wishing I would get you naked, thinking about all the naughty things I could do to you?”

“Mmhm..” You nodded, doing your best not to whine as you shivered.

“Well I better follow through then.”

With another smirk his hand was back between your legs and you let out a gasp when a finger slid into your pussy, clenching down around the digit immediately. A second finger quickly joined it, easily thrusting into your warmth, pulling more wetness from it, as he set a steady pace the hotel room filled with the sounds of your pussy mixed with your breathy moans and whimpers. Your eyes landed on the mirror, watching the way Hotch effortlessly held you to him while his fingers thrust in and out of you, the heel of his hand brushing against your clit,

“That’s it…” he groaned, “such a good girl for me.” His hips ground against your ass and you let out a gasp at the feeling of his half hard cock rubbing at you through his pants. “Take my fingers so well, bet you’d take my cock just as good, wouldn’t you?”

“God! Yes!” You panted, struggling to keep your eyes open at this point, his fingers curling and twisting inside you as his lips brushed against your neck and shoulders. “Fuck… feels..s-so good.” His fingers curled once more and you let out a gasp, your body shuddering in his arms, “don’t stop.”

“Ah.” He raised a brow at you through the mirror, his hand pausing its thrusting so his fingers could curl again, finding the sensitive spot in your pussy, “right there?” He asked and you whimpered when he pressed against it again, nodding as you bit your lip,

“Oh fuck Aaron…” you moaned, your head dropping back onto his shoulder as your hips rocked downward into his touch. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you said his name and he wished he was buried to the hilt inside of you right then, but he’d promised you an orgasm first and he wasn’t about to back down on his word.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked with a chuckle, beginning to move his hand again. He could feel the way you were pulsating around his fingers, how with each thrust of his hand there was more and more wetness dripping down his wrist. Your eyes were scrunched shut, your entire body on fire as he continued to finger you, curling with each thrust until your legs were practically shaking. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, your hand shooting to his arm, clutching at him for dear life while you whined and shivered with pleasure.

“Fuck! Oh god… m’so close.” You could feel it burning just under your skin, he stretched you so perfectly with just his fingers you were absolutely driven to insanity at the thought of his cock buried in your cunt.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He cooed, nipping at your earlobe as he increased the pace, his free hand wrapping tighter around you to play with your clit.

You let out a gasp at the double sensation, your body jolting toward his touch, hips grinding into his hands as right as his fingers curled once again your free hand shot to your mouth, letting out a muffled cry as your orgasm shot through you like a burst of fire. Your legs nearly gave out, thankful for Aaron’s arm tightly wrapped around your middle as your body shook. A string of quiet swears and whimpers escaped your lips as he gently fucked you through your orgasm,

“So fucking hot.” He murmured, watching the way your chest heaved as you panted in an attempt to catch your breath, little trembles shooting through your body as his fingers lazily thrusted into you. “Was that better than that stupid little pink thing?” He asked, cocking a brow at you through the mirror and you let out a huff of a laugh.

“Much.”

His fingers finally slipped from your pussy and he grinned, “just fucking drenched.”

“All for you.” You muttered, finally able to stand on your own legs you turned slightly to face him.

“Bet you taste incredible too.” He replied with a grin and before he could even get another thought in your lips were wrapping around his fingers again, moaning over your own taste as you sucked his fingers clean, letting them go with a lewd pop. “Christ.” He felt himself throb in his pants once again as he looked down at you, his hands just beginning to toy with the hem of your shirt when his phone went off with a text tone and both of you jumped, suddenly coming back to the real world.

“Ignore it.” You muttered, tugging at his arm to regain his attention and he laughed softly, stepping back toward you when the phone went off a second time. His hand trailed up your neck to your cheek and all he could think about was kissing you to get a taste of what that pretty pussy tasted like when the ringtone began blaring through the room and he let out a frustrated groan, stepping away to answer the phone.

You dropped down onto the bed behind you, watching curiously as he muttered a couple of things into the phone before hanging it up and glancing back to you.

“I have to go back to the precinct.” He grabbed a couple more things from around the room before scooping up your abandoned shorts from the floor, handing them to you, pausing to pinch at your chin, “this isn’t over.”

“It better not be.” You replied with a grin, your eyes very obviously flicking from his face to the bulge in his pants, resisting the urge to reach out and palm him through the fabric.

By the time Hotch got back to the hotel that night it was late, far too late to have expected you to still be awake, completely unsurprised to find you curled up asleep in your own bed. He let out a tired sigh, stripping out of his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom. Tonight it was his turn to get off in the shower with the images of you coming around his fingers and fantasy of how it would feel to bury himself into that gorgeous pussy.

This certainly was very far from over.

Pt 2

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