#once again the present becomes the past

[kalmeria]

what gets to me is that himeru’s idealized vision of kaname isn’t in the past. because i believe he did realize that kaname lied to him. but maybe didn’t completely understand what that meant. kaname wanted to be a great idol and so the himeru persona was created. and meru does understand that this persona was aspirational. so that idealized version is not in the past, because kaname didn’t get the chance to fully become himeru. it exists in the present. i think himeru isn’t telling himself “this is what kaname was” he is telling himself “this is what kaname could have become. this is what he can be, he should be, he will be.”

anyways, pour one out for everyone who has ever felt crushed by the weight of expectations placed on them

[batsplat]

in your rgu x motogp post, you mentioned the cringe celebrations which has become part of the sport. forget the audience reactions for a second, just look at those famous journalists:

Toby Moody: Other people have tried to do similar celebrations - look at Jorge Lorenzo in his early years and Marc Marquez when he wins a championship - but it's never the same and really, they shouldn't bother, no one cares now. Rossi's had more than the cake there - there's none left for anyone else. He was so original. (https://www.the-race.com/motogp/toby-moody-how-a-rossi-row-made-qatars-first-gp-legendary/ )

Simon Patterson: Maybe a controversial opinion: MotoGP's over-engineered title celebrations are tacky and awful. They choreograph all the fun and spontaneity out of the moment. X users @ KeefyH19 : All Rossi wannabes Simon Patterson: None of his were this over-engineered (https://x.com/denkmit/status/1723585339271594059?s=46 ）

like, what’s up with these middle-aged men? this was your favorite celebration tradition once right? or does this emotion only apply to a certain someone? the answer is yes.

and i noticed marc stirring up fans during the parade this year, like doing the kneeling gesture… valentino never needed to do stuff like that. for him it’s just a smile and a wave, that’s all it took. when i was watching the 04-07 races, i realized how naturally he matched with the camera. even before the race started, a few shots of him on the grid, a smile, a kiss, and he already had everyone hooked. that’s something no one else could ever pull off. he’s such a witch.

he IS such a witch. and podcast hosts did get a shout out!

but yeah agreed, it really irritates me. 'over-engineered' is obviously the silliest one because, I mean??

is this really more emotional than doing a dumb basketball celebration or cgi devils or whatever

the problem these journalists face is that they're inherently predisposed to see this shit as cringe, but the rossi factor being what it is they did find themselves enjoying those... so the argument has to be that nobody else can pull it off. which, yes, is that special valentino magic doing its thing again. but idk, this is a case where I'm strongly in the camp of imitation being the sincerest form of flattery. there's just a kind of goofy camp to them... I think some of them work better than others, but what matters to me is that it feels like sincere self-expression. also, perhaps most importantly of all... who cares!! if athletes want to do something kinda cringe-y to celebrate their success, then whatever!! they have something to remember the occasion by and so do the rest of us. and if it's not for you then, again, who cares. it's title-winning celebrations - it is the definition of not that serious

obviously jorge (lorenzo) is particularly interesting with this stuff because he had his whole arc of coming up with celebrations as a kid and believing he low-key preempted valentino in that but also looking up to valentino and drawing inspiration from him and then finding valentino's celebrations so so funny and so so cool even when they were competing. and... my personal take is that he has come the closest of anyone of matching the spirit of valentino's celebrations, because he did actually put a lot of thought into like. the meaning of what he was doing. he was really engaging with the process, thinking of the symbolism and all that stuff!! I'm fond enough of them that I compiled his 2006-07 resume here... but perhaps the funniest detail of this whole saga is that EVEN JORGE HIMSELF is engaging in this no true scotsman stuff by dragging melandri's celebrations

so there you have it. even the guys literally being accused of not managing to live up to rossi's celebrations are insulting other guys for not managing to live up to rossi's celebrations. big part of the valentino magic is in the utter lack of solidarity anyone who has suffered as a result of him displays when it comes to fellow sufferers. it's only right that this even extends to those imitating his celebrations

[ficoandleo]

. . .However, for that he's doing that and plans on spending the day hosting his little pseudo buffet party, he'a simultaneously aware he's doing something else that day at the same time.

It's been like this for a little while, actually. Leo had explained the likelihood to him. And he'd spoken to Hyde about it too. The island itself was already an anomalous location. So for there to be anomalous occurrences on it was no surprise. They just didn't normally regard time and space.

Another version of himself. Multiple of Taiga. Places being the same but different. Unfamiliar ghouls and staff. Familiar ghouls and staff, but different. But also, he knew them, sometimes he remembered things that weren't his life--but they were his memories too, the memories were from himself, but. . .from another timeline, adjacent to this one. Or the one he was from. Or some other one. He wasn't sure what the core of all of this was. He could tell, though, that usually the only one from 'his' timeline was Leo. Taiga was often close, but not exact. The Taiga's weren't 'his'--but they were, they were his and he was theirs, and there was nothing unfamiliar about anyone even when they were different. Like he, briefly, became the Romeo they knew in some capacity, or rather that he knew the things that he'd been through and he felt like he was him, or. . . .

Time passed differently. A week for every month. He lived a period in time once and then lived it again differently. Sometimes he was in multiple places at once. Sometimes he bounced around through time. Or he knew things he shouldn't know. He thought of Taiga often when he noticed it--Taiga was always knowing things he shouldn't and guessing the future and knowing the past and present he shouldn't know. And yet he didn't feel confused or disoriented by any of it, unlike Taiga. He must be experiencing something different.

He could generally tell which Taiga was which--same with knowing when someone was from another timeline, even without speaking to them first. Nothing happened if he spoke to or touched his other self. When he returned to his time and space and life--or returned to one that was familiar to him, anyway, that felt like 'home' where everyone around was 'his'--all of that fell to the back of his mind and he was unburdened by it. Even living through it he was unburdened by it. It was simply a fact.

The people around him were the people he knew--friends, enemies, acquaintances, strangers, faces in the crowd, lovers past and present(or never but past in their presence)--but different. And oddly enough that didn't stir him any, where changes often did. Because they always had a Romeo. And he was usually himself. And he got to be another himself for a little while, sometimes, sort of, he wasn't sure.

But all of that to say, he would be spending his birthday in Sinostra, perhaps among friends and underlings.

But he would also be in Kabukicho, another pair of R&R permits he'd managed to. . .convince Hyde to give him in his hand. But only in one timeline, where he and @taiga-shark had gone to Italy for his birthday, because Taiga wanted his gift to be Romeo being happy again. And Taiga remembered he was happiest at home. And he was happy. He had fun, once he relaxed. But it felt. . .wrong that Taiga's birthday had been for him.

So he would spend his birthday on Taiga. Maybe taking him places he used to know. Maybe doing things with him that he used to do. Maybe it wouldn't spark any memories that he'd once had. Maybe it wouldn't feel like home anymore. But Italy hadn't quite felt like home for Romeo either.

They had made a few new memories in Italy instead. And they visited the ruins of a place that was once 'home.' So maybe they could make new memories in Kabukicho too. No matter how brief they were. And Taiga's home there--Romeo's home, too, where they lived together--was no ruin.

But whether or not it was home, what mattered was that they were together. They were each other's home.

(Even if he wasn't 'his' Romeo all the time. 'His' Romeo who was 'his' home. But it would feel like his because they would be one for a while. Everything they did and experienced would be essentially the same.)

The whole thing was strange. Existing had been strange lately. And yet it wasn't strange at all. Just a fact.

[ranger-kellyn]

.

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

Developing Backstory: Bringing Characters to Life

1. Where It All Started: The Character’s Origin

Place of Birth: Where did your character first see the world? Think about the impact of this place—was it a busy city where they had to fight for attention or a quiet village where everyone knew everyone’s business? This location doesn’t just say where they’re from; it shapes how they see the world.

Family and Upbringing: What was their family like? Were their parents loving or distant? Maybe they were raised by someone other than their parents—a mentor, an older sibling, or even alone. Family (or the lack of it) is usually one of the most significant factors in shaping who someone becomes.

Society’s Expectations: What was expected of them when they were young? Possibly, they were born into wealth, with all the pressure to continue the family legacy, or maybe they were raised to be invisible in a world where survival mattered. How does this influence who they are now? Do they accept or reject those expectations?

2. Childhood Events That Left a Mark

First Taste of Conflict: Think about the first time the character realized the world wasn’t a perfect place. Maybe they witnessed violence or faced betrayal. What was that moment, and how did it stick with them? This moment usually lays the foundation for the character’s emotional landscape—fear, hope, ambition, or distrust all come from these early life lessons.

Childhood Dreams: When they were young, what did they want to be? Every child has dreams—did they want to be a knight, a scholar, or even just someone who could travel the world? Did they have to give up these dreams? How does that lost dream shape them now?

Formative Relationships: Who was their first best friend, mentor, or enemy? Childhood friendships and relationships often create deep bonds or wounds that last into adulthood. Did they have a mentor who taught them everything, only to betray them? Did they lose a childhood friend that still haunts them?

3. The Teen Years: Where They Start to Become Who They Are

Trials and Tribulations: What’s the biggest challenge they faced as they grew up? Was it losing a loved one, failing at something important, or maybe being forced into a role they didn’t want? These teenage years are where the emotional armor starts forming—how did the difficulties they faced shape them into the person they are now?

Education or Training: How did they learn what they know? Were they formally trained by an institution, learning everything by the book, or did they learn through experience, like a street-smart survivalist? What impact does their education or lack of it have on how they interact with others?

Teenage Bonds: Did they have a first love or a first major falling out with someone close to them? These experiences often create emotional scars or connections that they carry with them into adulthood. How does that past friendship or romance influence their behavior now?

4. Key Life Events: The Big Moments That Define Them

Trauma or Loss: Was there a moment that changed everything? Think about a significant loss—maybe a loved one, their home, or a sense of identity. How does this event affect their worldview? Do they build walls around themselves or dive into relationships with reckless abandon because they fear losing more?

Victory or Failure: Did they experience a moment of triumph or devastating defeat? Success and failure leave their marks. Were they celebrated as a hero once, leading them to overconfidence, or did they fail when everyone was counting on them, leading to crippling self-doubt?

Betrayal: Was there a betrayal that shaped their adult relationships? Whether it is a friend, family member, or lover, betrayal often changes how we trust others. Do they close themselves off, constantly expecting betrayal, or try to rebuild trust, afraid of being left alone again.

5. Where They Stand Now: The Present Moment

What Drives Them Today: What’s the one thing pushing them forward now? Is it revenge, the need to restore their family’s honor, or maybe even just survival? Whatever it is, this motivation should tie directly back to their experiences.

Emotional Baggage: What unresolved emotional wounds are they carrying? Everyone has scars from their past—some are visible, others not so much. How do these emotional wounds affect how they treat others, how they react to conflict, and how they move through the world.

Current Relationships: Who’s still in their life from their past, and how do they feel about it? Did they reconnect with someone they thought they’d lost, or are they haunted by unresolved issues with people from their past? Do they have any ongoing tensions or regrets tied to these people?

6. Tying Themes to Their Backstory

Cultural or Mythological Influence: How does their personal story tie into the larger world’s mythology or culture? Do they carry a family legacy, a curse, or a prophecy that hangs over them? How does this influence their interactions with others and their perception of themselves?

Recurring Symbols: Are there objects, dreams, or people that keep showing up in their life, symbolizing their journey? Perhaps a recurring nightmare haunts them, or they carry an object from their past that’s both a source of comfort and pain

7. Character Arc: The Journey from Past to Present

How Does Their Past Shape Their Growth?: Every character has emotional baggage that needs resolving. How does their backstory drive their arc? Do they need to forgive themselves, let go of the past, or accept who they’ve become to move forward?

Unanswered Questions from the Past: Are there any mysteries in their backstory they need to solve? Maybe they’re unaware of their true parentage, or maybe there’s a forgotten event from their childhood that will resurface and change everything.

[demilypyro]

10 years is a long time

2014: Legend of Korra ends. Korra and Asami end the series by deciding to travel together. Word of God says they have become a couple, though only later supplemental material such as comics actually confirm this.

2016: Gravity Falls ends. Blubbs and Durland, though often hinted to be a couple, fail to escape the censors, and remain only hinted. In the finale, they are depicted firing a cannon, to hint that they "are canon."

2018: Adventure Time ends. Bubblegum and Marceline, often hinted to be a couple though never directly stated up to this point, share an on-screen kiss, fully confirming the relationship.

2019: Steven Universe ends. One of its final episodes includes a gay wedding between Ruby and Sapphire, including an on-screen kiss. Multiple other queer characters featured on the show, such as Pearl, who is explicitly sapphic and dates multiple women, and Stevonnie, who is explicitly nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns.

May 2020: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power ends. The show included multiple queer relationships, such as Adora and Catra, and Netossa and Spinnerella. Bow has two fathers. Many other characters are either hinted or explicitly queer.

November 2020: Adventure Time: Distant Lands. The special Obsidian explores the past and present of Bubblegum and Marceline's relationship on a deeper level, and it is much more explicit than it ever was on the original show. The episode includes a love song, and they again kiss.

April 2023: The Owl House ends. It depicted homosexual attraction as early as season 1, with the character Amity developing a crush on the protagonist, Luz. Luz is explicitly bisexual and the two are explicitly a couple starting early in season 2, openly using words such as "girlfriend" on screen. The cast includes the nonbinary character Raine, who uses they/them pronouns.

August 2023: Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake. Protagonist Fionna is hinted to be bisexual. The Winter King openly flirts with an alternate universe version of himself. The relationship between Bubblegum and Marceline is reaffirmed once more, and is implied to be a universal constant, as it is shown happening in at least two other universes: one where it is more toxic, and one where they are both men instead. Their male versions share an on-screen kiss.

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. ���I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[yuvany]

(💄) LIPSTICK TREND WITH ENHYPEN

─── ( on 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 ) OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + kisses + trends / none WORD COUNT 1,124

reblogs are highly appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

you had asked him to do it with you, and he easily agreed, this seemed a lot more tame than the previous ones you had asked him to do with you. When it is time to put on the lipstick, you asked him for his opinion on what colour to use, and he said, "choose by singing eeny meeny miny moo". you giggled at this and did as he said, choosing red in the end. The process of planting kisses on his face seemed a lot more enjoyable to him than it did to you. Your lips were starting to feel numb from doing a kissy face. When you finally finished, Heeseung returned one of your many kisses. Now, it was finally time to film the tiktok, and you quickly told him what to to do, but instead of simply wiping it off, he grabbed ahold of your chin and turned your whole head his way and your stunned expression made the cut. Let's just say that the video blew up.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

"Jaayy" you cooed is name. "Yes, my love?" He replied. You proceeded to show him a video that appeared on your for you page, and Jay was confused which was evident on his face. "This is a tiktok trend. Wanna do it?" Your upbeat voice convinced him enough to agree. At your desk, Jay sat quietly as he observed what you were doing; going through your lipstick collection. He admired you, putting on lipstick over and over again, to kiss him someplace on his face, enjoying the feeling of your lips pressing against his soft skin. He mentally noted that he needed to buy you another lipstick soon, because oh dear, a lot of lipstick was used. You counted down and hit record, which somehow still caught him off-guard and he missed the corner of your lips and instead wiped your lips, this caused the two of you to burst out laughing.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He will probably be the one to ask you to do the trend with him, Jake just somehow knew that you'd ask him about it. "I was gonna ask you, but I guess." You tried to act nonchalant about it, but Jake saw past the facade. "That colour is so pretty." He points to the one you're currebtly holding. "It is, but it's too light, it won't be visible on camera." You say, and it makes him sulk. "What about that one?" This took a while, but never would you have prepared for what came next. Jake did not know that you would need to kiss his face, he just believed that he needed to swipe the lipstick across his face, so when you began preessing your lips to his skin, he genuinely believed that you were kissing him, so he kissed back. "jake! will you stop trying to make out with me?" You called out through giggles. "Wait, is this part of the trend..."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Does this man even need to try? He is already perfect. Sunghoon just needed to sit there prettily. You had asked him to do the trend with him, and it almost felt as if you were begging on your knees for him to do it with you. "What do I get in return?" He asked, a small smirk present on his lips. "Kisses, i suppose," you shrugged, but not being able to keep your happiness to yourself as you beamed a smile. It did not help that Sunghoon made your job harder by moving his face around while you tried to kiss his face over and over again, so you grabbed him by the chin and told him to be still, which he did, but he just began staring at you, which made you a bit self aware. Overall, the filming part went smooth, and the video gained a lot of attention, and you saw how people were commenting on how handsome Sunghoon were, and you replied to them with, "That's my man, back off."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Becomes all shy and giggly all throughout, not once was he even calm. When you asked him to do the trend with you, he didn't know what you were talking about, but after showing him a video, he gets flustered, but eventually agrees because it looked fun, and because it meant that he'd be able to spend more time with you. I'd like to think that Sunoo would be quiet while you apply your lipstick as he watches you with a shimmer in his eyes whenever he sees you, but you always try to spark up a conversation, and he can't possibly deny your offer, can you? As you pan your phone over to him, it is only showing a lipstick stained faced Sunoo with his hand above his face because he forgot the part where he wipes the lipstick off your lips. He's so giggly like a ball of sunshine.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"wonie, look." You called out, and he whipped his head around and saw your screen, he knew you well enough to understand what you were aiming at. "You wanna do this?" The shining smile on your face told him what he wanted to know. "Let's get to it then!" He pulled you by the arms right into your room. While you adore his face with your lips, he is watching the trend in loop to understand what he was supposed to do. You notice this and tell him, "Just be yourself, it's gonna be adorable!" Jungwon smiles at you and puts down his phone. Filming the video took the longest I'd say. He just can't contain his laughter, it's just something about hitting record that sets him off. Jungwon takes a deep breath and tells you that he is prepared.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki has got firece eyes, and he knows how to use them to his advantage. He is such a sweetheart and the people whom are going to watch the clip wouldn't know that. You asked him if he wanted to do the trend once almost a week ago, and he seemed to remember it when you didn't. "About that trend, babe..." You raise an eyebrow, eyes lit with confusion and now he has to show you the video instead. "Can I?" Riki asks when he sees that you roll up your lipstick, and you trust him enough to loan him one of your lipsticks. "Just be careful." You warn, and he knows how much you adore it. "I will." His finger is fixed under your jaw and, and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks. You did not expect him to take this trend so seriously, and the look of awe that Riki gave you did not go unnoticed by the viewers.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[sheyfu]

yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.

feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)

cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos

note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ DAN HENG

about [name] [name]? what about them?

chat: significant other  [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.

chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ AVENTURINE

about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.

chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.

chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ LUOCHA

about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now. 

chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades. 

chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JING YUAN

about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.

chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.

chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ GEPARD

about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.

chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?

chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JIAOQIU

about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.

chat: sweets  oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.

chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ARGENTI

about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them. 

chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment. 

chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MOZE

about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.

chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...

chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.

tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[daisymbin]

for lovers who hesitate - choi seungcheol

warnings: cheating ex, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), shotgun marriage (not reader), some curse words, mentions of blood (seungcheol in a fight), some angst (mostly on seungcheol's part, some of reader's towards the end) + this is a long fic so I'm sure I missed out stuff, my apologies. please let me know what I missed out so I can add them in!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: fake dating, resurface of old feelings (reader) & a down bad choi seungcheol

wc: 13k (not sure what happened i was aiming 3500-5000 but oh well.)

a/n: 13k words...my longest fic on here yet..... this took quite awhile, even proofreading was a challenge, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one! but fr, I early respect and admire authors who always belt out 30k word fics, it's really not easy i don't even wanna think about it. it's one thing to get a long fic done and another to proofreading it all oof. ... and no writer really only proofreads it once

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“you've got mail~” seokmin sings down the hallway of your shared apartment, “it looks like a wedding invite…” his voice trails off, “are any of our friends getting married? why didn't I receive one?”

seokmin's question was reasonable, you did both have the same friend group, you grew up together, having tons and tons of mutual friends, you went almost everywhere together. he's like the brother you never had. but now he's got your interest piqued as well. who could it be?

on your hand sits a wedding invitation, beautifully adorned with gold accents, pink flowers litter the edges of the invite, a bright pop of colour in contrast to the plain white.

seokmin snatches the invite out of your hand, opening the invite as he reads, “you are cordially invited to celebrate the joy of han- what the fuck? is this a joke?” seokmin shuts the invite close and crumples it, “what the hell does that guy want?”

“han minjun?” you asked as curiosity plagues your mind. seokmin’s reaction only amplifies your own confusion, and you reach out to grab the crumpled invitation from his hands, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. his name stares back at you, a name you had once thought you’d never have to see or hear again. but here it is, boldly printed, like a ghost from the past come to haunt you.

“han minjun…” you murmur, your voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of disbelief and absurdity. the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave, each one hitting you harder than the last. you remember the good days first, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. but those sweet memories are soon overshadowed by the darker ones, the ones you had worked so hard to forget.

you remember the way he’d become distant, how the warmth in his eyes had faded, and the excuses he’d given whenever you asked what was wrong. you remember the pit in your stomach when he’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was swamped with work, even though you could hear the laughter of friends in the background whenever he called.

then there was that one night, the night everything shattered. you had gone to his apartment, unannounced, carrying takeout and hoping to surprise him. the sight that greeted you instead was something you’d never forget. minjun had been in his living room, his hand tugging on another girl’s hair, the other on her waist as they makeout heavily. their light giggles echoing through the walls you thought you knew so well. you’d dropped the food in shock, the containers spilling onto the floor, and the way minjun’s face had paled when he saw you… it was a moment forever etched into your heart.

“its not what it looks like,” he’d said, scrambling for an explanation, but all you felt was betrayal, the heartache, the realization that the person you’d trusted had broken you in a way you never thought possible.

you come back to the present as seokmin's voice pulls you back, “oh i dropped a post it, ‘hope to see you there - kim hanna’ who the hell is kim hanna?” seokmin reaches for the invite again, his eyes scanning the words imprinted on the paper, “kim hanna…isnt she the girl he cheated on you with? that little bi- how dare she send this invi- SHE'S MARRYING HIM?” seokmin's mouth ran faster than body allowed, never finishing his sentence, but you heard and understood every word.

you snatch the invite back. the wedding is in 2 weeks.

are you hurt? no. heartbroken? no. sad? no. upset? just a little bit. angry? oh yes, yes you were. all the anger still simmering beneath the surface as you grip the wedding invite tightly. seokmin watches you with concern, his earlier frustration shifting into worry as he notices the way anger starts to consume you.

“you okay?” he asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

you softened, “yeah i just… i can’t believe he’s getting married after everything he did.”

seokmin’s grip tightens, his protective brother instincts kicking in. “you don’t have to go,” he says firmly. “and if you decide to, you won’t go alone. i’ll be right there with you, you know the boys will be too. whatever you need.”

his words bring a small sense of comfort, but the invitation still feels like a dagger, reopening wounds you thought had finally healed. “oh I'm definitely going,”

“why?”

“just because. & I need a date-”

“I can be your date.”

“no you can't.”

“why not?”

“because i need my date to be my fake boyfriend. i cant show up all single to an ex's wedding & everyone knows we grow up together. we're practically siblings we would never ever date each other! that's disgusting."

seokmin's fake dramatic gasp only leaves your laughing, the anger that once resided is now long forgotten. “how can you say that?” he continues, “don't you watch movies? don't you read books? or even better, fanfiction? that's like a really popular trope and it's popular for a reason! why? because it's real, it happens. what if I'm in love with you and you just don't know it? then what? you could have seriously hurt my feelings!”

“yeah could have, that means I didn't. and don't think I forgot about the time we all played truth or dare and chan dared you to kiss me and you literally threw up from how repulsed you were by me. how could you possibly be in love with me? unless...you puked because you were nervous.." you said as you wiggled your eyebrows disturbingly. “also what hell fanfiction do you read? why didnt i know about that?”

“EW!!!" he screams as he steps away from you, "AS IF YOU COULD EVER MAKE ME NERVOUS!"

“& the fanfiction? what do you read? come on, spill!”

“that's none of your business.”

“seok-”

“beyonce x reader.” it was almost as if he was dying to tell you.

the laugh you burst out only brings relief to seokmin, now he knows you're really okay. you've moved on, just angry at the audacity of them. “please beyonce would never pick you.” you joked as you got up from the sofa. “come on, be serious, this is serious stuff. I need a fake boyfriend.”

“ask seungcheol.” seokmin answers easily without missing a beat, as if the answer was obvious.

“why seungcheol?” you heart raced at the mere idea of seungcheol being your date for the night, let alone boyfriend.

“because…he never says no to you. like ever,” he gives a brief, small smile before he turns to walk away. “oh and also, don't you think he'd fit the role perfectly?”

[—]

but that's what happens when seokmin plants the idea in your head, because you now find yourself in seungcheol's apartment.

you sit in seungcheol’s living room, heart pounding as you try to muster the courage to speak. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest, looking at you with his usual gentle, patient expression. but somehow, today, that patience makes your nerves worse. you’re not sure why you’re suddenly so embarrassed; maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to search your face for any hint of what’s coming.

“so… what did you want to ask me?” he prompts, his voice warm and inviting, though there’s a hint of curiosity lurking beneath it.

you swallow, your palms damp. “you can totally say no if you want to, there’s no pressure at all but um-”

seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow at your hesitation, “you’re making me nervous,” he jokes, though there’s a genuine note of concern in his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you inhale deeply, avoiding his gaze as you force the words out. “so, i got this wedding invite. from…my ex.” you don’t have to elaborate for seungcheol to know which ex you mean. his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something dark passing over his expression before he smooths it out.

“han minjun,” he says, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. his hands uncross, one clenching the back of a chair as he leans into it. “are you… are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, “i’m okay, really. just…it's in two weeks, and he’s marrying the girl he—” you stop yourself before the floodgate of bad memories start flowing. you look up at seungcheol, feeling your face grow warm. “anyway, that’s not the point. the point is…i need a date.”

seungcheol’s eyes soften, his tension melting away just a bit. “oh,” he says, and a smile tugs at his lips in realization, “you want me to be your date?”

“yes. i mean-” you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “only if you’re okay with it. you don’t have to-”

“of course,” he interrupts, his answer immediate, his voice firm. “if it’s for that, there’s no way i’d say no.” his protective instincts flare up at the mere thought of you facing your ex alone, and he wants to be there for you, to shield you from any pain that might resurface.

you feel relief wash over you, but then the real request lodges itself in your throat. you take a deep breath. “but… not just as a date,” you say quietly. “i need… i need a fake boyfriend. i can’t just show up to his wedding…single.”

seungcheol blinks, and for a moment, he thinks you’re joking. you watch as his expression shifts, surprise giving way to something more complicated. his smile falters, and his eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation, or a joke even. any indication that you might realize what this could mean for him.

a fake boyfriend. the words echo in his mind, and his heart aches, even as he tries to keep his face neutral. he’s spent the past 3 years hiding his feelings, protecting your friendship, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. and now, here you are, asking him to pretend.

“a fake boyfriend,” he repeats, and his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something broken underneath. he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to hold your hand, to smile at you, to pretend to be the one who gets to loves you openly…only to have it all stripped away when the charade is over. he knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but how can he say no to you? how could he ever refuse you when you look at him like that?

“cheol?” you ask hesitantly, noticing his pause. “is that… is that too much to ask? i’m sorry, it’s just-”

he shakes his head quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “no, it’s not too much,” he says softly. “if that’s what you need, then… i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up with hope, and he wishes he could bottle up the way you look at him, keep it forever.

“really,” he confirms, even though his heart is already starting to fracture. he pushes down the longing, the desperate yearning to be more than just a fake. because he knows this is all he’ll get—a bittersweet taste of something he can’t truly have. but for now, he’ll take what he can get. even if it means breaking his own heart for the chance to be close to you.

[—]

“rules. we need rules. oh and boundaries. just to be safe, you know? not make it weird.” you informed as you pick up a piece of blank paper & pen from your desk before jumping onto bed.

seungcheol lies on his stomach on your bed as he waits for you, “what kind of rules and boundaries do you have in mind?” he asks.

“well for one, no falling in love. like, we both have to promise that this stays strictly pretend. we can’t let it mess with our friendship.”

for a moment, silence fills the room. when you glance at seungcheol, his expression is unreadable. “no falling in love,” he repeats quietly, his voice almost too steady. you don’t notice the way his jaw tightens, the way he clenches his fist against the sheets.

you give him a nervous smile. “exactly. we both need to agree to that.”

“right,” he says, his voice softer now. “no falling in love.” he repeats louder this time, his heart aches at the irony, because if only you knew how deeply he’s already fallen. but he forces himself to nod, to play along, to act like he isn’t breaking the very first rule you laid out just by being here. “any other rules?”

“um, yeah,” you continue, scribbling your next point onto the paper. “okay,” you say, oblivious to the turmoil in his chest. “it has to be believable. like, no half-assing it. if we’re going to do this, we have to commit. but, uh, within reason, of course.”

seungcheol chuckles at that, the sound breaking through the tension. “within reason?” he echoes, his smile genuine this time.

“yeah, nothing too….much,”

“& what exactly is too much?”

“kisses,” you answer without missing a beat.

seungcheol smiles, "so, i can’t kiss you, even if it’s just for an act?"

you pause, thinking over his question. the way he says it, so casual yet so heavy, sends a shiver down your spine. “i mean… kisses are too intimate. that crosses the line.” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how nervous the thought of kissing him makes you.

seungcheol watches you closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “too intimate?” he repeats, almost teasingly, but there’s something more in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but aren’t we supposed to look like we’re really together? won’t people think it’s suspicious if we… don’t at least pretend that we’re comfortable with that?”

“no one’s expecting a porno of us making out,” you argue, your cheeks warming at the implication. what a poor choice of words. “hand-holding, hugs, maybe a forehead or a cheek kiss if we’re feeling bold. but anything beyond that…” you trail off, your mind spinning and butterflies threatening to invade your tummy at the thought of seungcheol’s lips anywhere near yours.

he hums thoughtfully, propping his chin on his hand. “so, kisses are off the table. got it,” he says, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that you dont pick up. “any other rules?”

“that's all i can think of for now, what about you? anything you dont want me to do? anything to add?” you ask.

“no, I'll do whatever you want me to.” he says, a mixture of fondness and longing swirling in his chest.

“okay, i guess we're really doing this huh?” you ask as you feel some tension leave your body.

“yeah,” he murmurs, even as his heart screams at the unfairness of it all. if only you knew just how real it already was for him.

[—]

“did you actually really ask seungcheol to be your fake boyfriend?” seungkwan questions, taking another sip from his iced americano, his eyes narrowing at you suspiciously.

you sigh, pressing your palms to your face. “how did you even find out about that?”

“seokmin told me. now answer me! did you actually?” seungkwan presses, his tone both exasperated and concerned. he’s your best friend. he knows every secret, every late-night confession, and every tear you’ve ever shed over seungcheol.

you glance away, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “yeah... i did,” you admit softly.

seungkwan lets out a small groan, leaning back in his seat. he’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his judgment hanging between you. but there’s something else there, too. something heavier, deeper. regret, maybe.

four years ago, you were a helpless mess, pinning after seungcheol like a lovesick fool. seungkwan remembered the way you’d light up whenever seungcheol was around, the way your laughter sounded a little brighter, your smile a little wider. and he remembered the way seungcheol seemed oblivious, never showing a sign of returning your feelings.

seungkwan had wanted to help you. he’d been desperate to see you happy, to save you from the heartache that came from unrequited love. so he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time: he’d set you up with someone else.

“do you remember when i introduced you to minjun?” seungkwan asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more somber.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “of course i do,” you reply. how could you forget? you’d been resistant at first, clinging to the faint hope that seungcheol would notice you one day. but seungkwan had been insistent. he’d told you that minjun was a good guy, someone who could make you happy, someone who could help you move on.

“you were so against it,” seungkwan recalls, his lips curving into a wistful smile. “but you finally agreed, and... well, you actually hit it off.”

a small laugh escapes your lips, though it lacks any real humor. “yeah. we did.”

for a while, dating han minjun had felt like a breath of fresh air. he was charming, thoughtful, and everything you thought you needed. for a moment, you’d even believed you’d moved on from seungcheol. but now, years later, here you were again, tangled up in your feelings for him, pretending to date him, no less.

seungkwan’s expression softens as he looks at you. “you know, i really did think minjun was a good guy back then. i just... i didn’t want to see you hurt anymore.” his voice wavers, and you can tell he feels guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault that things turned out this way.

“i know,” you murmur. “you were just trying to help.”

seungkwan sighs, setting his juice box down. “but now you’re back to seungcheol, except this time it’s... fake. and that worries me.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know how to explain that being with seungcheol, even if it’s just for show, feels better than being with anyone else. even if it hurts a little. or maybe a lot.

“it’s complicated,” you whisper, but seungkwan isn’t satisfied. his eyes bore into yours, filled with worry and protectiveness, like he’s already bracing for the heartbreak he’s sure is coming.

[—]

“do you think we should pick something that matches or just, you know, kind of goes together?” you ask, sifting through rows of dresses, your fingers brushing over various shades of fabric.

seungcheol tries to focus on the suits in front of him, but he’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your voice lilts at the end of your question. “hm?” he clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice how he’s completely lost his train of thought. “yeah, matching is… good.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “that didn’t answer my question, cheol.”

he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry. what was it again?”

“do you want our outfits to match?” you repeat, holding up a dress. it’s a deep, elegant navy blue, and seungcheol’s heart does a weird little flip. “like this one? it’s the same color as that suit you’re holding.”

seungcheol swallows hard, imagining the two of you side by side, perfectly coordinated, like a couple in a fairytale. he tries to shake the thought away. “yeah, that’s… perfect,” he says, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you seem satisfied with his answer, disappearing into the dressing room to try it on. seungcheol stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, heart pounding for no reason he can justify. he’s known you for years, been by your side for countless moments, but something about this—the idea of the two of you dressed up together, the way you trusted his opinion—feels different, it makes his heart race.

“cheol?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, his breath catching in his throat as you step out of the dressing room.

he’s not prepared for the sight. you look… breathtaking, the dress fitting you in a way that leaves him momentarily stunned. his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.

you tilt your head, concern flickering in your eyes. “is it bad?”

“no!” he blurts out, voice cracking embarrassingly. he clears his throat again; surprised at his own voice, his cheeks burning. “no, you look—” he stammers, searching for the right words, his mind a complete mess. but then, he smiles his boyish smile, his dimples dipping more than they usually do & says “god, you look… beautiful. really beautiful.”

you blink, taken aback, and seungcheol swears he sees your cheeks flush a little. he’s painfully aware of how warm his own face feels, how his hands are suddenly clammy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. you look at him, eyes wide and earnest, and seungcheol can’t handle it. he has to look away, but not before he sees the small smile spreading across your face.

he fiddles with the cuff of his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “you… you really think this is the one?” he asks, his voice cracking again. he winces.

you nod, your smile growing. “i think it’s perfect. but… what about your suit?”

he’s still trying to recover from seeing you in that dress, but he manages to nod. “right, my suit,” he says, forcing himself to focus. “i’ll go try it on.”

you sit down on a bench, and seungcheol practically sprints to the fitting room, his heart pounding. he stares at his reflection as he pulls on the navy suit jacket, trying to breathe. he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up from how many times he’s run his hands through it, his face still red.

“come on, cheol,” he mutters to himself. “get it together.”

when he finally steps out, he catches the way your eyes light up, the way you look him over and nod approvingly. “that’s perfect,” you say, and his heart does that stupid flip again. “we’ll look great together.”

he laughs, but it’s a weak attempt to hide how fast his heart is racing. “yeah. we will.” the words come out before he can stop them; even he knows he sounds completely & irrevocably smitten but he can’t help it, not when you’re looking at him like that.

[—]

“so, did you say yes to being her date?” seokmin asked casually, thumbs tapping furiously at the controller in his hands as he and seungcheol tried to hold their ground in the game. “you know, her fake boyfriend and all that?”

seungcheol’s fingers faltered on the buttons for a split second, and he shot seokmin a glare. “yah, focus on the game, we can't lose,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up. but, of course, seokmin had to bring it up now.

“wait, what?” wonwoo’s attention snapped away from the screen, his character on the verge of getting attacked. he gawked at seungcheol. “when did this happen? and why didn’t you tell us?”

soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his character in the game momentarily stood still. “hold on, hold on,” he said, nearly dropping his controller in shock. “hyung, you’re telling us you agreed to be her date and fake boyfriend, and we’re only hearing about this now?”

“can we not talk about this?” seungcheol muttered, trying to refocus on the game, but his heart was racing. the way his stomach twisted at the mention of you and the fake dating arrangement wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—especially not with his friends teasing him about it.

“absolutely not,” soonyoung protested, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. “this is big news, hyung! you have to spill.”

“yeah, seungcheol,” wonwoo added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “why didn’t you tell us? don’t act like it’s not a huge deal.”

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders tensing as he kept his eyes on the screen. “because it’s not a big deal, its only for a day anyway,” he insisted, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“you’re so full of it,” wonwoo said, barely holding back a laugh. “you've been in love with her for god knows how long, now you agreed to be her date and pretend to be her boyfriend. how is that not a big deal?”

unfortunately, soonyoung & wonwoo, have possession over seungcheol's not so secret, secret. but really, everyone knows, it's only a secret to you, seungkwan & seokmin although seokmin has been starting to catch on for the past few months. everyone else has miraculously managed to somehow keep their mouth shut around seokmin and seungkwan for 3 years; knowing how close you are with the two of them. I guess in a way you could say the boys are loyal to him? anyways.

seungcheol’s grip on his controller tightened. “can we just focus on winning?” he pleaded, desperate to change the subject, but his friends’ curiosity was palpable.

“fine,” soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “but we’re coming back to this later.”

just as seungcheol was about to let out a breath of relief, the sound of the front door opening made his heart stutter, and he turned his head, unable to help himself. you stepped into the apartment, bags in hand, looking slightly windswept but effortlessly beautiful.

“hey, i’m home!” you greeted, smiling at everyone.

seungcheol’s mind blanked, his focus slipping away entirely as he took you in. he barely registered seokmin’s frantic warning—“hyung, watch out!”—before his character was obliterated in the game.

“yes!” soonyoung cheered, throwing his hands in the air. “we won, wonwoo!”

wonwoo leaned back with a smug smile, “thank you,” he said, looking over at you.

you blinked, confused. “me? what did i do?”

wonwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “it’s nothing you need to know… yet,” he replied, his voice teasing, and he shot you a knowing smile. “but thank you anyway.”

you tilted your head, clearly still confused, but you shrugged it off. “okay, if you say so,” you said, heading down the hall. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

seungcheol watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how badly he’d let himself get distracted. he could feel the heat rising to his face, embarrassment and longing twisting in his chest.

seungcheol couldn't let it show. or at least, he thought he didn’t. he tried to play it cool, act normal around you, and pretend that his heart didn’t stutter every time you called his name. but apparently, seokmin noticed.

“you’ve got that look again,” seokmin pointed out, a teasing lilt in his voice.

seungcheol turned to find seokmin leaning against the backrest of the sofa, a grin spreading across his face. he blinked, feigning ignorance. “what look?”

“you know,” seokmin drawled, pushing himself off the backrest to lean closer to seungcheol “that look you get when she’s around.”

seungcheol felt his pulse skip, an uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck. he avoided seokmin’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping his voice sounded steady.

“sure you don’t.” seokmin plopped down beside him, elbow nudging his ribs. “c’mon, hyung. you’re not exactly subtle.”

seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake. “it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

seokmin raised an eyebrow. “really?” he asked, voice softening. “because the way you look at her…you look at her like you'd burn down the whole world for her.”

seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together, finally meeting seokmin’s gaze. there was no judgment there, only curiosity and a quiet sort of understanding.

“i didn’t mean to,” seungcheol admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “it just… happened.”

seokmin’s smile was gentle now, the teasing gone. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

seungcheol’s hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, a sense of helplessness washing over him. “nothing,” he said, bitterness seeping into the word. “she’s too important. if i mess this up… i can’t lose her.”

seokmin studied him for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “but what if you don’t lose her?” he said quietly. “what if she feels the same way?”

seungcheol’s heart twisted painfully. the thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he always pushed it away, too afraid to hope. “and what if she doesn’t?” he countered, his voice breaking. “i’d rather be close to her like this than lose everything.”

seokmin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “i get it,” he murmured. “but you can’t live your whole life being afraid. sometimes, you’ve got to take the risk.”

seungcheol let out a humorless laugh. “easy for you to say,” he mumbled, but his chest felt a little lighter, the weight of his secret shared, even if just for a moment.

seokmin’s smile returned, playful once more. “hey, i’m rooting for you,” he said, clapping a hand on seungcheol’s shoulder. “but seriously, the way you look at her… it’s gonna give you away one day.”

seungcheol swallowed, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “maybe,” he whispered. “but not today.”

seokmin grinned, standing up and offering a hand to pull seungcheol to his feet. “well, just know i’ll be there to say ‘i told you so’ when it happens.”

seungcheol took his hand, rising to his feet. “yeah, yeah,” he said, but his heart felt a little less heavy & a lot more hopeful.

[—]

seungcheol stood outside your bedroom door with seokmin, heart pounding as he took a steadying breath. it wasn’t the first time he was picking you up, but today felt different. maybe it was the gravity of the wedding you were attending, or maybe it was the fact that this arrangement had slowly become more real for him than he ever dared admit.

“hyung, you okay?” seokmin asked, glancing at him curiously.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “yeah,” he lied, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt. “let’s just…get this over with.” he lied, it hasn't even started yet but he doesnt want it to end.

seokmin gave him a sorry look but said nothing, and before seungcheol could dwell on it, you opened the door to your room. his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. you stood there, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, hair styled perfectly, eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation.

he was so down bad for you, it was almost pathetic.

he couldn't help the boyish smile that adorned his face, “you look… beautiful.” he didn’t trust himself to say more, afraid that if he did, the truth would come spilling out.

a faint blush dusted your cheeks, and you smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was doing somersaults. “thanks, cheol,” you said shyly, adjusting your dress. “you clean up pretty well yourself.

he let out a laugh, hoping it masked the way his pulse was racing. “you ready?” he asked, extending his hand to you. “our grand entrance awaits.”

you hesitated for the briefest moment, but then you slipped your hand into his, and he had to fight the urge to hold on tighter, to pull you closer and never let go. he couldn’t, of course. this was all an act. just a performance to keep up appearances, to help you save face in front of your ex and everyone else.

but god, how he wished it were real.

[—]

the car ride was quiet at first, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio. seungcheol couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, noting the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress. he knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety, and his chest tightened.

“hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand in his. your eyes widened in surprise, but you dont pull away. instead, you stared at your intertwined fingers, and he wondered if you could feel his heart pounding.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more careful. “if you’re not, we can turn around. we don’t have to go.”

you shook your head, a small, determined smile forming on your lips. “i’m fine,” you whispered. “it’s just… weird, you know? seeing him get married.”

seungcheol swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. he hated that minjun hurt you and how he couldn’t do anything but hold your hand and hope it was enough.

“if you want to leave at any point,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “just say the word. i’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like he was being laid bare under your gaze, your eyes boring into his. “thank you, cheol,” you murmured, and your voice cracked just a little. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his chest ached, a mix of longing and fear swirling inside him. he wanted to tell you that he’d always be there, that he’d never leave, but he didn’t. instead, he settled for rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping you couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling.

the silence in the car was comfortable, but electric, charged with something unspoken. the way your shoulders relaxed under his touch, the way your breathing evened out as he held your hand—it was almost enough to make him believe that you felt the same way.

but that was dangerous territory, and seungcheol knew better than to get his hopes up.

“you know,” he said lightly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the ache in his chest, “you’re kind of incredible. not everyone could handle a situation like this with so much grace.”

you laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “i don’t know about that or this grace you speak of,” you said. “i’m still trying to convince myself not to run away.”

“if you run,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll run with you. we can both escape and go somewhere far away. just the two of us.”

the joke made you laugh, but there was a wistful note to it, and seungcheol had to look away to keep himself from saying something stupid. his heart was a mess, pounding wildly with every word, every touch, every second he spent in your presence.

“thanks, cheol,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “really. i’m so lucky to have you.”

seungcheol drove on, your hand still in his, hoping that this moment would last a little longer.

[—]

the wedding had gone off without a hitch, at least on the surface. the vows had been exchanged, laughter and applause filling the air, and now the reception was in full swing. seungcheol had been trying his best to stay close to you, to keep you from feeling the weight of the memories this day might bring. but as he returned with your drinks, he froze.

there you were, standing stiffly, looking more tense than he’d seen you all night. and, of course, minjun was in front of you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he leaned in, saying something seungcheol couldn’t quite hear. your polite smile was brittle, your shoulders tense, and anger flared in his chest.

he forced himself to take a calming breath before approaching, setting your drinks down on a nearby table and stepping in between you & minjun, “hey,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “everything okay here?”

your eyes darted to him, a flicker of relief crossing your face. you tried to smile, but it wavered. “yeah,” you said, your voice a little too tight. “we were just… talking.”

minjun glanced at seungcheol, an eyebrow arching. “seungcheol?” he asked, a smug smile playing on his lips. “fancy seeing you here, i dont remember including you in the invite?” he quirked an eyebrow.

you opened your mouth, your voice coming out steadier this time. “actually, he's my plus one, since we're dating.”

“dating? as in, he's your boyfriend?” minjun asked as he sneaked a glance at seungcheol.

“yes, actually.” your words sent your stomach doing flips.

the disbelief on minjun’s face was palpable. he snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of you as if you’d just told a joke. “boyfriend? really?” he smirked, clearly unconvinced. “come on. that’s a little desperate, don’t you think?” minjun tries to reach for your hand.

before you could react, seungcheol stepped forward, his hand moving to reach for yours protectively; staking his claim. “i don’t think your wife,” he said, emphasizing the word with a hint of sarcasm, “would appreciate you making my girlfriend uncomfortable.”

minjun’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “prove it,” he challenged, crossing his arms. “you really expect me to believe this… whatever this is?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “we don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “& you certainly don't have the right to ask for anything, much less a proof, not after all the shit you’ve done.”

minjun’s expression soured, but before he could respond, seungcheol turned to you, his eyes softening. “come on, pretty,” he murmured, his voice gentle and eyes earnest,. “dance with me?”

you stomach did somersaults, seungcheol watches you intently, he watches the way your expression melts into a grateful smile. you leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you whispered, so quietly he barely heard it.

his heart stuttered in his chest, warmth flooding through him. but he forced himself to push the feeling away, to remind himself that this was all for show. you were only doing this because minjun was watching, because you needed to keep up the pretense. there was no way you actually meant that kiss, no way you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he did.

but he couldn’t help the way his heart betrayed him, the way his entire body seemed to light up at the simple touch of your lips on his skin. he swallowed, hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks flushed, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go,” you said, taking his hand, your smile genuine and warm.

the music had shifted to a slow song, and seungcheol led you onto the dance floor, his fingers still intertwined with yours. his heart was pounding, his mind racing, but he tried to focus on you, on the way you were looking at him now, your eyes so full of trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“thank you,” you said again, your voice a little steadier this time.

he gave you a small smile, trying to keep his emotions in check. “i’ll always be here for you,” he said, his voice soft. “you know that, right?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your waist. “i do,” you whispered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something more in your eyes. something he desperately wanted to believe in.

seungcheol tried to ignore the way your body fit so perfectly against his, the way your smile sent his heart racing. he couldn’t let himself read too much into the way you were looking at him.

but it was so, so hard.

“cheol,” you said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “can i ask you something?”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “of course.”

“why did you say yes?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “to being my date and… pretending to be my boyfriend?”

his breath caught in his throat. he hadn’t expected that question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving himself away. “because you needed me to,” he said finally, and it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. “and i’d do anything for you.”

your eyes softened, and he wondered if you could see right through him, if you knew just how badly he was hurting, just how desperately he wanted this to be real.

“you’re too good to me,” you whispered.

he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said. “i’m just… selfish.”

you tilted your head, confused. “selfish?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t ruin this. “never mind,” he said, forcing a laugh. “just… ignore me.”

but you didn’t. your gaze lingered on him, searching, and he had to look away before he did something stupid, like confess right then and there.

“cheol,” you said, your voice so soft it made his heart ache. “what are you hiding?”

“nothing,” he lied, pulling you a little closer, trying to focus on the music instead of the way your eyes were looking right into his soul. “i’m not hiding anything.”

but he was. he was hiding everything. the way he loved you, the way he wanted you, the way he’d give anything to be more than…this.

“okay,” you said finally, but he could hear the doubt in your voice. “if you say so.”

“you know,” he said as he let out a small sigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “you didn’t have to kiss my cheek just now. not for minjun’s sake, anyway.”

you tilted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i didn’t do it for him,” you said quietly as seungcheol watches your eyes sparkle and dilate, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“then… why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

your gaze searching his face. “just because.. i wanted to.”

seungcheol’s mind went blank, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sudden, overwhelming rush of hope that filled his chest. 

“should we call it a night?” you asked, your voice gentle as you turned to seungcheol, who still seemed lost in thought. you weren’t sure if it was because of the way you had kissed his cheek earlier or if he was still worried about you, but his expression had been hard to read.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “let’s head home. but, uh, let me hit the bathroom real quick first?”

you nodded, offering him a small smile. “i’ll wait by the entrance.”

he nodded back, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he turned and made his way to the restroom. as he walked, he felt his heart racing, the memory of your soft kiss on his cheek replaying in his mind. you’d said it was just because you wanted to, but that couldn’t mean anything... right?

 seungcheol washed his hands, letting the cool water calm him down. he took a deep breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. he doesn't really want this night to end, he's not ready for that yet.

but that’s when he heard it: voices coming from one of the stalls, low but loud enough to catch his attention.

“man, i still can’t believe you're actually married,” one voice said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “and only because you got her pregnant. how the hell did you screw up that bad?”

what the hell? seungcheol’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet, listening.

“don’t remind me,” minjun’s familiar voice replied. “i know, okay? it’s not like i love her or anything. but i couldn’t just bail, you know? had to do the right thing, i guess.”

the right thing? seungcheol thinks to himself, yet cheating on you is okay?

the friend laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “still, hanna’s nothing compared to your ex. that girl is so much hotter than your wife. you should’ve stayed with her.”

seungcheol’s grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles going white.

“hey, i made a mistake,” minjun grumbled, clearly defensive. “she really is hot. i was just thinking with my other head back then, okay?”

“yeah, well,” his friend drawled, “i would’ve made a move on her tonight if she hadn’t walked in with that new boyfriend of hers. what’s his name again? seungcheol or something?”

“yeah, well, i tried to,” minjun admitted, and seungcheol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “but he showed up before i could.”

“did you see the dress she was wearing?” minjun laughed as he added, “she's got such a killer body…bet I could make her cheat on that boyfriend of hers, what do you say? 50 bucks? bet on it?”

that was it. the final straw. anger flared hot and fierce in seungcheol’s chest, and before he knew it, he was storming over to the stall. he yanked the door open, and the look of shock on both men’s faces did nothing to quell his rage.

“what the fuck did you say? you think you can talk about her like that?” seungcheol growled, his voice low and dangerous. “after everything you’ve done?”

minjun barely had time to react before seungcheol’s fist connected with his jaw. the fight was quick, brutal, and messy, with fists flying and the sound of grunts echoing off the bathroom walls. seungcheol didn’t care about the pain in his knuckles or the way his cheek throbbed from a poorly blocked punch. all he cared about was defending your honor, protecting you from these men who had no right to even think about you, let alone look in your direction.

when seungcheol finally left the bathroom, his heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. his cheeks were slightly bloodied and his knuckles were bruised.

but before he could reach the entrance to get to you, someone grabbed his arm. he turned, only to see hanna, minjun’s wife, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “oh my god,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “what happened to you?”

at first, she seemed genuinely worried, but then her eyes raked over him, and her concern twisted into something more flirtatious. she reached out, her hands brushing against his arms. “you look so hot like this with all the bruises,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his biceps.

seungcheol stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. “don't,” he held a hand up, “i have a girlfriend,” he said firmly, stepping back. he glanced around, hoping you hadn’t seen any of this.

but you had. your eyes had caught sight of the scene, the way hanna's hands lingered on seungcheol’s arms, and your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see it, why your heart felt heavy and your chest ached. this was seungcheol, your good friend. you’d moved on from this heartbreak years ago... right?

you tore your gaze away, your mind spinning. you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him with someone else, but it made no sense. seungcheol was just your friend. nothing more.

when seungcheol finally made his way over to you, unaware that you saw him & hanna, was careful not to mention it or the fight that happened. instead, he focused on the gossip he’d overheard in the bathroom. “hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “did you know?”

you barely registered his words, your mind still replaying the image of hanna's hands on his arms. your chest felt tight, and you couldn’t explain why.

“apparently,” seungcheol continued, “this whole wedding is a shotgun marriage. she’s pregnant, and that’s why they’re doing all this.” he paused, searching your face for any reaction, but you weren’t really hearing him.

“huh?” you finally said, blinking as you came back to the present. your eyes widened when you took in his bruised knuckles and the cut on his cheek. “oh my god, seungcheol. what happened to you?”

“did you hear anything of what i just said?” he asked, a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice.

you glared at him, your concern overshadowing everything else. “no, but i’m sure it’s nowhere near as important as this,” you snapped, gesturing to his bruised face and bloodied hands.

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders slumping. “it’s nothing,” he insisted, but he knew you wouldn’t let it go. not when you looked at him with so much worry, so much care, and it made his heart ache.

“nothing?” the depth of your furrowed brows going deeper, “you're bleeding, cheol.” your tone angry.  “come on,” you said, your voice softening. “i’m taking you back to my place. i need to take care of those wounds.”

he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t hear it. “please, cheol,” you whispered, and the way you said his name made his heart stutter. he wanted so badly to believe that you cared, that this wasn’t just about him being your friend.

“fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper. “but only because you’re so stubborn.”

you gave him a small, relieved smile, and he felt his resolve weaken even more.

back at your apartment, you lead seungcheol to the bathroom, rummaging through the first aid kit with a determined focus. he sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you with a mixture of awe and longing. it’s overwhelming how gentle you are with him, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you gather supplies to tend to his wounds. he wants to believe this moment means something more than simple concern for a friend, that the tenderness in your gaze holds feelings he’s been longing to hear you speak out loud.

“does it hurt?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on his cheek, your touch feather-light.

“no,” he says, his gaze never wavering from your face. the sting is nothing compared to the ache of wanting you. his heart pounds relentlessly, each beat echoing the longing he’s kept hidden for so long.

you move to bandage his knuckles, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. “you’re so reckless,” you murmur, but your tone is soft, carrying nothing but worry.

he swallows, throat tight. “i couldn’t stand hearing them talk about you like that,” he admits, the words escaping before he can second-guess them.

your hands freeze. you look up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he hesitates, regret mingling with vulnerability, wanting to tell you everything but afraid of what might come next. “just... they were saying things they shouldn’t,” he settles on, the explanation falling flat compared to the storm raging inside him. “i couldn’t let it go.”

the bathroom feels smaller, the air thicker. you lean in closer, a wrinkle of worry creasing your forehead. “seungcheol…”

his hand lifts before he can stop it, and his fingers brush your cheek, gentle and unsure. “i just want to keep you safe,” he whispers, voice cracking, heart lodged in his throat. “even if it means getting a little bruised up.”

you’re so close now that your breath mingles with his, warm and intoxicating. your chest tightens, and something inside you shifts. you can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in his voice or the way his eyes seem to hold a secret you’ve always yearned to know. you feel your pulse spike, your mind racing. all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury come rushing back with an intensity that scares you.

you kneel in front of him, biting back the realization that you never really moved on, that you never truly stopped loving him. your feelings have been buried, but they resurface now, raw and undeniable, and you can’t pretend anymore.

“tonight was...a lot,” seungcheol says quietly, breaking the heavy silence. his eyes search yours, trying to make sense of the tension thick in the room.

you nod, hands trembling slightly as you pull back, though not far enough to break the spell. “yeah,” you manage, voice unsteady. “it was.”

seungcheol watches you with a gaze so full of longing that it makes your heart ache. he’s proud of you, he’s always been proud of you, but the way he’s looking at you now is different. “you were amazing,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your breath catch. “the way you handled everything… i’m so proud of you.”

his words break something inside of you, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the distance. it’s an impulse, a mistake, but you just couldn't help yourself. your lips brush against his, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

seungcheol freezes in shock, but then he responds. his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, and he kisses you back with a fervor that leaves you breathless. the tension snaps like a taut wire, replaced by a burst of passion, and everything you’ve both kept buried pours out.

his fingers tighten around your waist, your hands finding their way into his hair, and you lose yourself in him. the way he tastes, the way he holds you, feels like a dream you don’t want to wake from. your heart races as the kiss deepens, desperate and all-consuming.

but then reality crashes over you like a tidal wave. you pull back abruptly, breaking away, your eyes wide with shock and horror. seungcheol looks dazed, lips parted, hair slightly mussed from your hands, and the sight of him so undone because of you only makes the guilt worse.

“i-” you stammer, voice cracking as you scramble to your feet. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.”

“wait-” he begins, but you’re already moving, stumbling backward, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “i shouldn’t have… we promised we wouldn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice gentle yet laced with desperation. he stands, reaching for you, but you take another step back, your emotions spiraling.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, overwhelmed and terrified by the feelings that won’t stop crashing over you. “i ruined everything.”

you feel tears prick your eyes, your chest aching with regret and confusion. the kiss shattered the fragile balance between you, and you don’t know how to piece it back together. “you should go,” you manage, voice cracking. “its getting late,” your head starts feeling dizzy, “I'll call you tomorrow.” 

before seungcheol can argue, before he can make sense of the whirlwind between you, you’re gone. you rush out of the bathroom, heart hammering, not sure where to go but needing to escape. the apartment feels suffocating, your feelings too much to handle, and you slam your bedroom door behind you.

you lean against it, sliding down until you’re curled up on the floor, tears spilling down your cheeks. what have you done? you kissed seungcheol, and now everything is a mess. the love you never let yourself acknowledge burns bright, and it terrifies you.

in the bathroom, seungcheol stands frozen, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips. he’s never felt more hopeless, more in love, and more afraid that he’s lost you forever. the echo of your apology rings in his ears, and he clenches his fists, wishing he could take away the hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

he tells himself he’ll wait for you to call, but he’s terrified that this time, waiting might not be enough.

but still, seungcheol waits. 

the days stretched on, each one feeling heavier than the last. it had been a week since the wedding, a week since that kiss had turned his world upside down, and still, there was no call from you. you had promised, but the days passed in silence. he wanted so bad to be the one reaching out, but he knows you well enough to know that it wouldnt end well, and that you needed your own time to process things. but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between you. each morning he woke up with a sliver of hope, a quiet, desperate wish that today would be the day you would reach out. but by every nightfall, the silence was all he had. the silence, and the ache that gnawed at him constantly.

he kept replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the feel of your lips on his, the way your eyes had searched his face afterward. the hope, the confusion, the raw vulnerability—it haunted him, leaving him restless and on edge. there was something about the way you pulled away from him, your apology spilling out in a rush, that made his heart ache. his own feelings were a mess, tangled up in things he hadn’t fully understood until that kiss, much less you, right?

he tried to keep busy, to drown the thoughts that plagued him. the gym became his sanctuary, his second home, a place to work out the frustration, the ache in his chest. he lifted weights until his body screamed for rest, hoping that physical exhaustion would bring some peace. but no matter how much he tried to tire himself out, the ache remained, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments when it all came rushing back.

work was just a blur, the hours blending together as he went through the motions. he found himself distracted, staring at his phone more often than usual, his thumb hovering over your contact, only to put it down before he could hit send. what would he even say? what if you weren't ready yet & him reaching out only made things worse? what if you didn’t even want to hear from him? what if his feelings were just a one-sided mess that he’d have to live with forever?

the days bled into one another, each one more unbearable than the last. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he missed you—how much he longed to hear your voice, to see you again, to figure out what all of this meant. so he kept it all inside, bottled up, carrying the weight of his emotions on his own. there were moments when he could feel it, the weight of his longing pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. he had tried to be patient, to give you space, but with each passing day, that patience was wearing thin.

he wondered if he’d done something wrong. had he misread the situation? had he pushed too far when he kissed you back? maybe you only kissed him because of the atmosphere or adrenaline or whatever? every time he thought about it, he felt sick. maybe you didn’t feel the same way. maybe he had crossed a line, and now he was paying the price for it. the thought of you slipping further away from him was unbearable.

his phone sat on the coffee table, screen blank, mocking him with its silence. he had told himself he’d wait, that you’d reach out when you were ready, but the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to believe that. he wanted to hear your voice, to know that you weren’t angry with him, to know that the kiss hadn’t ruined everything between you. but instead, he sat in his apartment, surrounded by the deafening quiet.

& seungkwan? seungkwan had been on you about it for days.

"seriously, you’re just going to leave things like this?" seungkwan had said one morning, his eyes narrowing at you over his cup of coffee. "you kissed him. you kissed seungcheol hyung. and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen. you think he’s not waiting for you to come around?"

you hadn’t responded at first, unsure of how to even begin to process it. all you could think about was the kiss, and how everything felt so wrong and so right in that moment, and how now, in the aftermath, everything was a mess.

"you’ve been so quiet about this. and it’s obvious to everyone. you’re both miserable. don’t you get it?" seungkwan continued, his voice growing more insistent. "you can’t just let it go, not after that. you owe it to yourself & especially to him to figure out what this is. what he is to you."

you had shaken your head, turning away, not wanting to face the truth. "i don’t even know what it is. i don’t know if i—"

"you’re making it worse by not doing anything," he cut you off, his eyes narrowing. "stop running from it. just talk to him, okay? if you don’t, you’re going to regret it."

you sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. you had never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it came to feelings. but something in seungkwan’s words made you pause. the last thing you wanted was to regret anything.

"i don’t know if i can," you murmured. "i don’t know if he’ll even want to talk to me after everything."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "stop thinking like that. he doesn’t know what to do either, so you’re both stuck, waiting for the other to make a move. just go to him. get your act together."

before you could respond, the door to your apartment unlocks, interrupting your conversation, and there stood seokmin, looking far too cheerful for the somber mood that had settled over you.

"hey, what’s going on in here?" he asked, stepping inside with his usual bright smile.

you shrugged, feeling the weight of seungkwan’s words pressing on your chest. "nothing much. just… thinking."

seungkwan immediately jumped in, as if he couldn’t help himself. "you need to go talk to seungcheol. i’m so done waiting for this mess to sort itself out."

seokmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. "ah," he crossed his arms, settling into the couch. "you’re still haven't called huh?"

"no," you admitted, your voice small. "i don’t know what to say to him."

"yeah, well, you’re not the only one," seokmin said with a sigh, his tone softening. "but running away from it won’t solve anything. look, and you know what cheol's like. if you tell him you need space & time & that you'll call him, he's gonna listen & wait for you. he’s not going to make the first move until you do so go talk to him, okay? figure it out. or at least to put that guy out of his misery."

you nodded slowly, trying to take in his words. it wasn’t that simple. it never was. but seokmin had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like maybe, you could take that first step.

seungkwan was still persistent, though. "seriously, i’m not letting you off the hook. you still love him after all these years, don’t you?"

"i don’t know," you said, your voice cracking. "i think i do, but i don’t even know how to deal with even coming to terms that i like him. everything’s so messed up. i kissed him, and now i… i don’t know what to do with all of it."

seokmin looked at you with an almost knowing smile. "sometimes, things don’t have to be figured out all at once. it’s okay to just… see what happens. go to him and talk. take it one step at a time."

seungkwan nodded eagerly, as if the suggestion had finally gotten through to you. "exactly. just go. trust me, you’re both miserable. just fix it."

the decision was made. somehow, someway, you had to go to him. you didn’t know what you were going to say, or how you were going to fix everything that had gone wrong, but you knew you had to try. the thought of never knowing how he felt, or whether you had a chance, was unbearable.

it had been days since you last saw him. days since everything had spiraled. and now here you were, on the verge of either fixing things or making them worse. you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. your hands trembled slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely out of control.

you knocked softly, but the sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway. a few moments later, you heard the shuffle of footsteps from the other side, and your heart skipped a beat.

the door swung open, and seungcheol stood there, looking absolutely stunned to see you standing there. his eyes widened in confusion, and for a brief second, you both just stared at each other in silence.

he seemed to take a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "you… you’re here," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "are you… okay?"

you didn’t know how to respond. you wanted to say so many things, but words felt like too much. you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. the silence stretched, and then he spoke again, his voice breaking the tension.

"come in," he said softly, stepping aside to let you in, but you didn’t move. "did i… did i do something wrong? if i upset you, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. i really didn’t." his voice was strained, as if he was holding back something. "i know we agreed on the whole fake dating thing for just 1 night, and maybe i crossed a line. but i didn’t mean to. i didn’t mean to make things complicated. I.. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he sounded so genuinely sorry, and that was the moment it hit you—seungcheol was just as lost as you were.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to step over the threshold. you walked inside, every part of you feeling as though you were making a decision you couldn’t take back. the door clicked shut behind you, and you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say next.

he gestured toward the couch, but neither of you sat. there was a tension hanging between you two, something unsaid but felt in the air. you stayed there, frozen, trying to process your thoughts while he watched you, waiting for something.

he cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. "come sit, please," he said. "talk to me, please. is it something i did? i… i can't fix it if i dont know what i did wrong."

you shook your head slowly, still unable to find your words. you felt like a mess, and you could tell by his expression that he felt the same. the weight of everything that had happened—the kiss, the awkward distance between you two after—was hanging over you both.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "it’s not your fault."

"what do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, a mix of hope and worry in his gaze. "what’s not my fault?"

"i kissed you," you muttered, the words coming out rushed, almost in a panic. "it was me. i shouldn’t have done it. and i’m sorry."

he seemed taken aback, a flash of guilt crossing his face. "but… why? why did you kiss me?” 

you bit your lip, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "i don’t know why," you admitted, the confession escaping before you could stop it. "i wasn't thinking…i just… i was jealous. i saw hanna with you, and i couldn’t stand it. i… i kissed you because of that, but now, i’m not sure if it was jealousy or because i like you."

seungcheol’s face softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. "you were jealous?" his voice was barely audible, as if the question itself was too much to bear. his eyes were glossy, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice breaking as he spoke. "you… you like me?"

you took in a deep breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "i think so, i don’t know..I'm not sure but i don’t want to lose you over a stupid kiss."

seungcheol exhaled shakily as his heart falters to the pit of his stomach. he felt a mixture of anger, bitterness and heartbreak flare in his chest, his fingers threading through his hair as he took a moment to gather himself. "a stupid kiss," he repeated, “you dont know if you like me?” and there was a bitterness to his voice that made your chest tighten. he looked at you, his eyes shining with something raw, something that made your heart splinter.

"it's not just a stupid kiss to me," he whispered, and your breath caught. "do you know how long i’ve been in love with you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve tried to hold back these feelings because i was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same?"

your eyes widened, your knees nearly giving out at his words. "you… you're in love with me?" you whispered, barely able to believe it.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound cracking in the air between you. "yeah," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "i’m in love with you. it’s been hell, watching you, waiting for the right moment, praying that maybe, one day, you'd feel the same. and then you kissed me, and god, for a second, i thought it was real. i thought maybe you felt it too."

your hands shook as you tried to process his confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you, leaving you breathless. "cheol…" you started, but he held up a hand, his gaze turning away from you.

"don't," he whispered, pain etched in every line of his face. "if you're not sure, if you don't know what you want, please… don't say anything. because this? this hurts too much."

your chest ached, your heart breaking at the sight of him, of the way he was barely holding himself together. "i’m sorry," you choked out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. "i didn’t know. i never realized—"

"that’s the thing," he interrupted, his voice strained. "i've always been here, and you never realized." he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his own tears. "i can’t… i can’t keep doing this if you don't feel the same,”

seungcheol softens as he took in a deep breath, “I can accept, no–I can understand if you don’t love me back,” he says, his voice breaking, “but i need you to at least be sure you like me. if you can’t even be sure you like me, then i don’t think i can do this.” his hands curl into fists on his knees, the weight of his words pressing into the air between you.

the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as everything you’ve been holding back crashes over you. “cheol,” you begin to confess, voice trembling, “i was in love with you four years ago. back then, before everything. before my ex.” your confession hangs heavy, and you can see the shock and pain in his eyes.

“four years ago?” he chokes out. he’s crying too, his tears slipping silently down his face. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you wipe at your face, trying to catch your breath. “because i thought it was over. i thought my feelings had become platonic, that they’d evolved into this safe, distant affection. but seeing you... seeing hanna flirt with you... it hurt. it hurt because i realized i never really let you go. i still love you, cheol. and it’s not just this soft, easy love. it’s the kind that makes me want you even when it hurts.”

his sob catches in his throat, and he reaches for you, his hands trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “i tried to hide it. i tried to hold it back, but i couldn’t. you’ve always been the one, even when i knew i shouldn’t feel that way.”

the two of you sit there, crying together, the years of longing, misunderstandings, and suppressed emotions finally crashing down. he cups your face, thumb brushing away your tears. “so now what?” you ask, voice small and broken.

seungcheol pulls back slightly, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes, but there's something vulnerable there too. he smiles as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "now... now i ask you out on a date," he says, his voice softer, but his tone filled with so much emotion. “but—” he pauses, his smile fading slowly as his gaze turns serious now, “i’ll give you…five dates.”

“what? what do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

seungcheol's smile returns as he takes in your pouty face before clearing his throat, “i'll let you decide if you still want me after that. no pressure. in case you change your mind.” his hand goes to reach for a stray hair near your cheek and tucks it behind your ear as he gives you a soft smile, still holding a certain sadness and uncertainty to it.

you smile softly, shaking your head. “i don’t need five dates to know my answer, cheol. i'm not changing my mind.” bold adrenaline suddenly pumps through your blood, and you hastily pull seungcheol closer to you in a quick motion, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then you place a quick kiss on his lips. it's nothing romantic by any means, neither was it movie-scene-worthy. it's nothing like that, but it is more than enough to soothe your soaring heart, and it's definitely more than enough to send your message across to seungcheol.

seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as you pull away. "you’re…sure.” this time, it wasn't a question.

"i'm sure," you repeat anyway for him, stepping into his arms as your heart flutters at the feeling of him finally pulling you in, his embrace as warm as you'd imagined.

his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and desperation that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like everything you've both been holding back for so long is coming unraveled, like this embrace is the start of something fragile but real. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, heavy and uneven, as he holds on like he's afraid to let go.

"i've waited so long to hear you say that," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. His words are shaky, the tremble betraying the vulnerability he’s still trying to hide. "i’ve wanted this for so long, but i never imagined it would feel this terrifying."

your hand finds his back, holding him just as tightly. "it’s terrifying for me too," you admit softly, your voice trembling. "but... i’m tired of being afraid.”

he pulls back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes search your face. “let’s give this a real chance, even if it scares us. even if it’s hard." he whispers, a hint of a smile breaking through the sorrow that had clouded his expression. 

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i want to," you say, feeling a fragile hope bloom in your chest. "i want us."

a soft, relieved laugh escapes his lips, and he pulls you into a real kiss this time—gentle, slow, and full of everything unspoken. It’s not perfect, but it feels like a promise, like a beginning you both desperately needed. you lose yourself in the moment, your heart pounding as the weight of everything finally starts to lift.

when you both pull away, breathless but smiling, seungcheol rests his forehead against yours. "so, about those five dates, even though you say you dont need them," he teases, his voice a little lighter now, a spark of his usual playful demeanor coming back. "should we count this one, or start fresh?"

you laugh, the sound bringing color back into the space between you. "maybe we should count this one," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full. "but only if it means you have to try extra hard to make the next four unforgettable."

his smile widens, the warmth in his eyes chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. "deal," he says, his hands still resting on your waist. "i’ll make every single one worth remembering, just you wait."

[princessbrunette]

yk who i miss gonner!rafe like i just imagine him giving you a body inspection before and fater you go to a girls night

"baby i gotta make sure this pussy only has my cum in it"

i miss gooner!rafe because… well, it’s literally the jittery coked up s1 rafe that we all love 😣

ᥫ᭡ㅤ⠀ㅤ ࣪ 𓈒⠀ྀིㅤׂㅤ ʚɞྀ

he’d offered to pick you up from your friends house after a girls night. you were not dating rafe by any stretch of the word — but it was clear he carried some sort of sick obsession with you, already standing infront of his car waiting for you on the street when you’d stumbled out the house, a little tipsy.

he’d made awkward eye contact with your friends, knowing they knew how the two of you were fucking like rabbits and cleared his throat, looking around.

“thanks for picking me up.” you giggle as you approach him, and he eyes you — unabashedly because he was past caring if you saw that kind of thing.

“uh…” he stares as he scratches his cheek, glassy eyed and unfocused for a second. “yeah.”

you go to reach for the car door handle but he blocks your path, licking his lips. he seemed jittery and a little on edge, so you furrow your eyebrows looking up at him inquisitively.

“rafe?”

“were you hangin’ out with guys… tonight?” he comes out with it. again, he wasn’t your boyfriend — so really, he had no place asking such things. yes, there were guys there — but you specifically hadn’t really been hanging out with them, a couple of them just accompanying your friends for a little while. for the most part it really was just a girls night. when you take a moment to think, dumbly staring up at him he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. “huh?”

“no— well, there were guys there for a little while but they were just… they were there for my friends. why does it even matter?” as soon as you admit that there were guys present, he licks his lips, standing up straight and staring over your head at the house. he wipes his clammy hands on his shorts and shrugs you off when you touch his arm. you go to continue explaining, or more so asking why he cares but he speaks once more — overlapping your own voice.

“are you fuckin’ them then? letting them inside that… that pussy that i thought was just mine?” he blinks at you irritably and your eyes widen at the insinuation.

“no! god no. i barely even spoke to them. if i knew that wasn’t even allowed i would have —”

“yeah, nah see i don’t… i don’t believe you.” he takes your wrist slowly but with pressure and crowds you against the car, looking around before starting to ruck your skirt up.

“rafe— rafe they’re just inside. can’t do this here—” your breath hitches as he kicks your feet wider apart.

“i really don’t care alright just — just let me check.” he grits his teeth a little when you resist him before he smacks your hand out the way and pulls your panties to the side. you’re wet, and for once he doesn’t like that because who was inside that house getting you so wet? his nose twitches in disapproval as you stare up at him helpless with watery doe eyes, unable to do anything but let him inspect you.

he pushes his fingers in and you groan, because it feels good and you can’t help it — and to this he huffs out a quiet sarcastic ‘ha.’ laugh at the fact you’re enjoying it as he shakes his head, continuing to dig around. “didn’t fuck anyone r— rafe. even if i did do you really think i’d be dumb enough to let them cum inside me?”

“yeah you know i think… i think that dick does make you dumb. i’ve seen it first fuckin’ hand okay so i don’t know. just hope you’re not slutting yourself out to these nobodies.” he warns and you shake your head, clutching his wrist as your cunt flutters around his fingers. it begins to become less of an inspection and more of him just straight up fingering you as he presses you to the car.

“m’not! i wouldn’t! rafe i— i only want your dick. s’why m’so wet, knew you were comin’ to get me n’just wanted to hump on you.” you pout. like magic, you suddenly become aware of the way he’s stiffened up against your leg, a minuscule smirk biting at the corners of his lips at the way you stroked his ego.

“alright… shit, yeah… yeah okay.” he agrees, before pulling his fingers out and backing off. you fix your skirt, eyes flickering over to the house you just left to make sure no one was watching before staring up at rafe obediently. he huffs out a breath, fixing himself in his pants before nodding towards the car. as you go to turn to get in, he quickly changes his mind and yanks you back round to face him making you gasp. “not without cleaning up your mess. c’mere.” he grits, stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you mewl, sucking off the remains of your arousal as he watches closely before removing them and forcefully spinning you around to face the car. he slaps your ass before jogging round to his side. “get in.”

ᥫ᭡ㅤ⠀ㅤ ࣪ 𓈒⠀ྀིㅤׂㅤ ʚɞྀ

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 working on love - business party!

────୨ৎ────

content: fluff, kinda silce of life, company party, mutual pining, alcohol mentioned, bestie Jimin is a wingman for em, smoking together, some cutesy kissing, Jk speaking in satoori mentioned

note from cherry: I´m tired of writing smut so here´s this request without smut.. sorry cloud anonie! ily!!!!,,,,this might get a pt2 if you guys want!!

────୨ৎ────

This is the best night you´ve had for a while. A tight, rather modest cream dress, hours spend on that flowy blowout and natural, brown toned make up all sum up the immediate glow radiating from your figure- glowing, for what seems to be the first time after ending that draining relationship.

Wooyoung was a good guy in the beginning. A gentleman inside the crowd modern day Elvis's, someone who did all the smooth talking, picking you up with a boquet and your favorite food, someone who would have bought you the moon if you asked him too.

Similar to how prominent and illuminated tonights moon hangs up so high in the sky, his love dim, not necessarily bright or precisely large- nonetheless, still it felt as thought he was the single source of hope in a darkness you grew comfortable in,

Wooyoungs love never felt raw- like love. apart from there being small muffled butterflies inside your stomach, there was nothing that exceeded any and all expectations you had set, nothing that breached the occasional warmth in your heart when he had once again bought the same boquet.

You had simply swallowed that down, accepting that the hunger you've been yearning for must be yet another illusion that TV has instilled in the minds of vulnerable women, longing for betterment within their limits of fulfilment

Soon enough, even that small light suffocated in your tight hold, you find out that asking for him to stay respectful and loyal seemed to have been too much. He couldn´t keep his promises and when he stopped being present, it only took so much to figure out why.

"Another glass?" he raises his eyebrow, leaning the grey colored, suited body of his against the counter,

you throw back half the glass of champagne, the third one this past hour. Arguably, too much in too little time for a coorprate work party held for networking,

"yes Jimin, i swear I´ll stop after this one" the city lights twinkle from below- from this 12th floor panorama window, even the biggest cars and buildings look small, people become anonymous figures, they loose their character,

become insignificant.

"you´re lying through your teeth" the blonde coworker says, Jimin could read you like a book; from coworkers to friends and quickly, there was nothing too personal to share with him.

His bright smile could never make you get too mad at him when he reported back all of his drunken mistakes and hook ups,

Alcohol brings out the best in people,

and the worst out of the good people

your head turns back to him, leaving the city to continue behind you,

"I know, i just need to breathe a bit"

"with workplace booze? come on"

his chuckle lights up the mood a little bit, "okay, just don´t embarrass us" he says, patting your back as if to reassure his statement

you promise him not to, moving a strand to the side of your face as he gives you a half smile, wandering off to what you presume to be the buffet.

While staring at your chrome nails tapping away at the small glass, the loud chattering from around you fades out briefly, almost as if everyone had completely gone silent,

thats when you spot him; another star emerges,

another radiant glow, you could see him clearer than any other person around, not because he´s tall- broad shoulders and parted, short hair peeking out from the people around- no, he shone like no other

Blurred out the countless voices and handsome faces that thralled around him, almost as if his presence screamed of his arrival, announcing himself as a starlight without even catching a tone of his voice- a glimmer of how he would pronounce your name,

No knowledge of his own unique one, in a strange way, he tugs at something wihin you- a spot you had only discovered now, as if you had met him in a past life or, rather as if you were supposed to see him

Jungkook´s breath gets choked up within his throat,

almost as if the collegues around all parted to make way for you- to reveal your purity, your radiance to him, his eyes land on you like fate,

it must have been fate, seeing you smile slightly with that glass in your hand, before turning your head back to the panorama window,

he watches your bouncy hair move in slow motion, the glitter on your dress sparkles under the warm, dim light of the confrence room,

The curves of your face resonate with him like a painting you see in a museum, only that you had known that painting before- you'd seen it, this being the first you could feel it, feel its vibrant colors meet your eyes in a fight of admiration and anxiety

"wow" his best mate whispers, hitting him in the side with his elbow,

suddenly, everything returns to normal, humans clouding the line of sight to what he must have deemed an angel, he almost sighs in disappointment, still, your glow reflects on the ceiling, disappearing as you also get lost within the crowd yourself, hiding behind the facade of a regular office worker

"what?" he speaks, turning his attention back on his friend who has an impressed smile clutching the contoures of his face,

"what? dude, you were literally standing here with your jaw on the floor"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "at least i had my eyes on her face you asshole"

Taehyung makes a face that resembles the expression "fair enough", looking between the huddle of people to try and spot you once more,

To no avail, in fact, he wouldn't have been able to, given you had slipped off right away, fetching for another glass of champagne and your emotional support blonde

Despite the chatter that swallows any small sound not relate to business, you can hear your heels clicking around frantically, thinking for any reason to get out of the room with him, any excuse you could deem plausible, until you end up on something that is undeniably so ordinary, it might even be true

In dire need of a whim of fresh air- a cooling breeze on your skin and definitely, in much more predictable nature, in dire need of a cigarette, you attempt to find him, ask him for a quick smoke break before resuming to the party

When you do find Jimin,it seems somebody familiar also did

Somebody who shouldn't feel magnetic, forcefully pulling you into their space,

Jimin's eye smile upon seeing you catches the two men around him off guard, whipping their heads to your direction swiftly,

his eyes land on yours, you can barely make out jimin's arm extending to wave in slow motion, as your eyes become chained to his,

His gaze becomes devoted to you, with every mindless step you take forward, it feeds he look in his eyes, strengthens the chain you've tangled yourself in with

"hey, where have you been y/n?" he asks, smacking your shoulder in an very unprofessional attempt to make your guy's relationship clear,

Jimin wasn't stupid, even he could feel how tense it had gotten,

"Y/n? Thats a pretty name"

You weren't supposed to know how he pronounces your name, he was destined to stay a fantasy,

"Thank you..?"

"Jungkook"

"you're the one with the nice name, Jungkook"

effortlessly, the syllables of his name roll of your tongue,

It send shivers to his body, jimin's eyes are burning a whole through the side of your face and you know it- you know he's aware how much this wasn't planned-

You weren't supposed to feel attraction like this, not to the intensity that ever movie you had seen creeped back up in a matter of seconds, instantly resuming that hopeful flame to burn once more, igniting not only fear- but need

Your eyes avert to the man in the black suit next to him,

"And your name?"

Jungkook's eyes still haven't left yours, awaiting their turn patiently, a lump in his throat grabbing at all rationality, begging for a chance to speak his mind- tell you that you're an angel- one he must have, must hold

For some strange reason,

Even though jungkook swore love was for the books, not for people like him

And even though a couple minutes of anyone's presence is far too little to utter the word love in the first place, he also knew it was inescapable the second you had granted him a smile

"Taehyung" he answers, sliding his hands into his pockets

"You're from wonder group right?" Jimin asks, returning the conversation back to the nuisance that your lame 9-5 is,

The two guys hum, Jungkook reponds first,

"Yeah. Came here because we were invited by the manager of your media department"

"Well, actually not we specifically were invited, everyone was" Taehyung chimes in,

"Media department? Thats.."

"Me. Wow, what a coincidence"

you freeze after your last statement - thinking foolishly, that meeting him maybe was supposed to happen - maybe when your fingers tiredly typed away at the keyboard when sending your invitation, you had to have laced it with a spell

It confirms what he had thought upon seeing your glow in the crowd of dull faces and grey tints,

Fate, you must be his fate

Jimin taps away at the wine glass in his hand, one you haven't caught notice of since your eyes had been occupied by someone who stood closer than a stranger should feel comfortable with,

In a desperate attempt to do something- anything about this encounter, you shoot jimin a look, a look that says help me, rescue me

"Do you smoke?" he asks, earning a nod from your mysterious soulmate and a very serious "nah" from his friend,

breathless, you manage to let out a small hum

"Let's go for one, tae are you good with waiting here a bit man?" Jungkook suggests, breaching out to ways he never knew he even possessed, ways to get you closer- to get to know a unreasonably familiar stranger no reason

other than having every single reason,

Taehyung nods, quickly, the three of you go outside the big glass door, finding a small spot behind the building to avoid any other, personal space invading collegue that might roam around for small talk

It didn't make sense, not even in the slightest when Jimin disappeared after saying he would go get the lighter he had forgotten, especially not when you had just lit your cigarette with one, perfectly working lighter

Jungkook caught on, laughing slightly at your friends attempt to leave you to a collective solitude, the fresh, 11 pm gust of wind feels like a gentle kiss to the face, almost like what you imagine him to feel like

You shouldn't be imagining that at all,

His head turns away from yours when he takes a drag, pushing the thick nicotine cloud out into the pure night,

You do the same, letting the bitter taste overtake your cherry flavored lip balm,

"Didn't know pretty girls smoke" he says, his deep voice thickly laced with a satoori you haven't remarked until this very sentence,

smiling at his sincerity, you take another drag, "didn't know busan men are this bold"

he doesn't feel like a stranger, far more comfortable than one- far less intimidating

"How did you know?" the small smirk on his lips forms into a gentle, bunny like smile once seeing that dead panned look on your face, merging with a hidden chuckle that manages to dominate your features in the end,

"Your satoori" you answer, watching as his plump lips wrap around the cigarette, he blows the smoke out, "hmm" he says, "do you like it?"

"A lot" truthfully, your answer tumbles out, scanning his response with a longing look on your face, the lit drug burns away between your fingers, forgotten, discarded by a much stronger one that's about 5'10 with an eyebrow piercing

"Glad to hear that, sweetheart " it slips past his lips, naturally yet simultaneously intentional- just like the way he makes sure to lay on his accent nicely

His cigarette bud drops to the floor, he puts it out, then turning to be stood in front of you, smiling softly with a newfound gentleness to his seductive appeal,

"You're beautiful, i mean that. I saw you earlier and i honestly couldn't stop thinking about you. I was going crazy looking for you"

he laughs slightly at the last bit, shyly toying with the metal ring at the corner of his bottom lip, the adrenaline of your sheer beauty and captivating allure overcoming and reluctance he would usually feel held back by, nothing could stop him from talking to the angel he had become keen on,

Your blush deepness, eyes flickering down to his lips, "thank you, i couldn't get my mind off of you either. Didn't know you were looking for me"

his slender fingers reach forward, moving a flowing strand behind your ear with ease before carefully caressing the side of your cheek with his knuckle, tender- soft, as if he had known not to apply pressure to your fragile heart and mind,

"Of course i was. Call me crazy but i swear you were glowing" both of you grin stupidly, you relish in the feeling of his plam flattening against your cheek, embracing it with care- he waited, waited for you to stop him, for you to tell him he's a crazy creep that needs to learn the meaning of a boundary

But you never do, instead, you silently thank him for his honesty, telling yourself he must be your soulmate,

That the television must have been right about love,

your shaky, cold hands lace with his deeply colored hair, fingers dancing between the locs as his breath hitches, getting closer on your face,

your eyes connect briefly, then your lips do too, longer- intertwined with a bond you knew exist from the very first second,

a bond that was so simple it couldn't be explained, so simple, it only took one look to determine it's existance

The nicotine on his lips melts with your cherry lip balm and own, bitter taste, pressing along the soft pillows of your love drunken lips, he thought about love for a moment,

Jungkook now knew that the books were always written about people like him

[multific]

Maybe In Another Life

King Baldwin IV x Reader

Warnings: Mention of smut, Illness, Mourning, Death

Summary: A short piece about a King who was doomed to die early and his Queen.

You were promised to him before either of you were even born.

You were married by the time you were 13. He was 14 years old.

And you loved him.

You loved how smart he was. How gentle and kind he was. 

Your love for him started when you began to grow older, you got used to one another.

You loved him.

Then, he started to get more and more sick. It scared you. The thought of losing him petrified you.

You tried to ignore his illness, you tried to act as if everything was fine. But you couldn't hide it for long. 

He was a strong soul, but his body was weak. 

You remember the night of your wedding when you had to consummate your marriage. It was a night you would never forget.

It was the first time you laid with him. It was the first time you felt truly loved. 

Even if you wanted to, tried to, there was only ever one time when he gave himself to you. 

You seduced him, not giving him an option, you laid in his bed, bare and presented yourself to him. It was his 16th day of birth before his illness got worse.

He began to wear the mask, never letting anyone touch him.

You loved him, it was simple yet complicated.

But you knew he loved you. 

His actions showed it to you. 

The garden he built just for you, was grand and gorgeous.

"Just like you, My Wife." he would say. "This garden will be the proof of my love for you and of your beauty for the upcoming centuries." 

How he loved your smile. 

But then, you were sitting next to him as he was taking his last breaths. Your tears falling, you couldn't control them.

"I will miss you greatly." you said as he moved his hand and allowed you to take it.

One last touch.

"I love you," he said and you smiled, allowing him to see it right as he died.

You took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his mask. 

"I love you too." you said as you broke down sobbing. 

You visited his grave daily.

In the beginning, you didn't even leave it for days.

They will crown a new King, and people will move on, but not you. 

Barely a year passed and you were lost. You had nothing and no one to live for.

You still visited your husband's grave daily, hoping he would wake up, hoping he would come back to you, but he never did.

Your mourning caused you to become sick.

In the hopes of joining your husband in the afterlife, you prayed and begged for death until the day it finally took you.

You joined him in death as you wished.

The wife of King Baldwin IV was placed to rest next to him, your rightful place, right by his side. 

Maybe in another life, you two would meet again, hopefully, that time it will be right. 

----

They say you don't remember your past life, but the feeling stays with you.

It is why a person who you know you have not met, might feel familiar. In a past life, you might have known them.

Then, there are people who claim to remember their past life. Who say they found their true love once again.

You used to laugh at those people.

But not today.

Not when you couldn't look away from him.

He stood right across the other side of the street. Occasionally, cars obstructed your view, but he was there.

With each passing car, you feared he would disappear.

But he didn't.

His eyes were glued to yours.

A familiar feeling flooded you, you knew him but you never met him.

You would remember such a handsome face, he was tall, lean yet built, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing spectacular.

But he looked amazing in your eyes.

Soon, he crossed the road, and you felt your heartbeat pick up.

You didn't move as he walked closer to you.

He was even taller up close.

"My Wife." he said and it felt so right.

You have never seen this man in your life. And yet, you remembered him.

"My King." you said as tears fell from your eyes.

"I remember learning about you in history class. The Mourning Queen of the Leper King." he stepped closer, lifting his hand to your cheek, and you smiled.

"I told you before, I couldn't possibly live without you." he smiled as you leaned closer, grabbing his shirt to pull him down.

And now, you could kiss him freely.

Your past was filled with love and pain. You both will make sure that this life will be a happy one.

You both pulled away from the kiss and spoke in sync.

"I love you."

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[lovelybluebirdie]

What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming. 

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you. 

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you. 

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.  

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you. 

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight. 

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands? 

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway? 

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you. 

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you. 

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen. 

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again. 

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what? 

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that? 

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved. 

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous. 

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows. 

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?” 

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you. 

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate. 

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick. 

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.” 

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly. 

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him. 

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.” 

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm. 

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave. 

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden. 

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him. 

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

Masterlist

[junrenjun]

after hours

mark lee x fem!reader x lee donghyuck, frat au

genre: mainly smut tbh

wc: 3.8k

warnings: afab reader, mark and haechan are frat bros, weed (smoking, edibles), unprotected sex (have safe sex plz), threesome, highkey switch!mark and switch!reader i guess, kind of dom!haechan, pretty heavy member x member in this, teensy bit of orgasm denial

The house is just as hot and sticky as you remember it to be. There’s people everywhere and you have to push around to get to the stairs. A pledge sits on the bottom step, eyes glued to his phone. He finally looks up when you approach. “You have to be with a brother to go upstairs, ma’am,” he drawls, boredom clear in his tone. 

“Ma’am? What am I? 30?” you ask him. “And I’m here literally every week.”

He responds without looking back up from his phone. “You still have to be with a brother to get upstairs.”

You’re starting to get impatient now. At this rate, the whole frat is aware of you and Mark’s “weekly weed time” as he calls it. Hell, half of them have participated at one point or another. “I am with a brother. I’m here to see Mark Lee, just like I do every Friday.” 

The pledge looks up at you again, exasperation clear on his face. “The brother has to be present. Like here with you right now.” You’re starting to miss Sungchan and Shotaro. They would never do this to you. 

“Well the brother I’m here to see is probably as high as balls in his room right now…” you say, trying your best to sneak past him. 

He puts an arm out and braces it against the wall to stop you. Your movements halt. “He still has to be here,” he informs you, annoyed. 

“Oh my god,” you raise your voice a bit. “Where is Taeyong?” you mumble to yourself, knowing the President himself would be able to get you out of this predicament. 

As you fish through your hoodie pocket to find your phone, a voice from the top of the stairs calls your name. There stands Lee Donghyuck, leaning casually over the railing, a solo cup in his hand and a smirk on his face. “What are you doing down there baby?” You shiver at the nickname. 

You shoot a pointed look toward the man on the last stair, who is now looking up toward the upperclassman. “I’m waiting for one of you fuckers to come find me, since your own pledge won’t let me upstairs.”

Donghyuck lets out a “tsk” sound, shaking his head at the younger boy. “C’mon man. She’s here every week, you should recognize her by now. And let her up, she’s with me.”

Surprisingly, the pledge doesn’t let you go right away. “She said she was here for Mark,” he informs his brother.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, leisurely strolling down the stairs. Once he reaches the bottom, he pushes the pledge’s arm out of the way with his foot. “Well she’s here for me too. Right baby?” You nod. “Go tell Sungchan to take over stair duty tonight for you, since you can’t seem to do your job right.” The boy nods hurriedly and scurries off. 

He smirks down at you, hand reaching to wrap around your waist. Leading you up the stairs, his  fingers brush lightly against the bare skin that shows when your hoodie pulls up a bit. It sends electric shocks down your spine. “Tell Johnny that the next pledge task should be to brush up on the frequent flyers list,” you mumble to him.

He simply laughs in response. “I can do that.” Once you reach the top, his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back, leading you through the crowded hallway. Finally you reach a door that you have become all too familiar with lately. A green street sign reading “Lee Lane” stares back at you. You still have yet to hear the story of how they obtained it. They refuse to tell you. 

Donghyuck reaches out and opens the door for you, slightly bowing. “My lady,” he says in an awful recreation of a posh accent. You roll your eyes and step through the entryway. You’re immediately greeted by 5 familiar faces and a cloudy haze of smoke. 

Jeno and Jaemin are slouched over each other on the couch, a little too handsy for what should be considered just friends. Nothing atypical there. Chenle and Jisung are sitting at Donghyuck’s desk, the taller man attempting to play some sort of game while the other eggs him on. Mark is lounging on his bed, blunt in one hand, phone in the other. “Where’s Renjun?” you pout once you notice the blonde man’s absence. 

You feel a familiar hand wrap around your waist once again. “He’s got an essay due at 11:59,” Chenle responds, not looking up from where his eyes are glued to the monitor. 

“Damn,” you reply. “Really wanted one of his edibles tonight.” With that, Mark leans down, starting to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand, passing the blunt to Jeno in the meantime. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he raises his head, a dopey smile on his face. He waves a little plastic bag around excitedly. 

All of a sudden, the smile drops from his face. His eyes are zeroed in on the hand circling your waist. “Hey!” he whines, grabbing Hyuck’s attention. “I thought I said no touching. She’s my weed partner not yours!” Mark and Donghyuck usually have no problem sharing you, so you suppose this little comment is meant to keep up appearances in front of their friends.

The hand reluctantly leaves your side and Donghyuck crosses the room to jump up onto his own bed. “She’s half the frat’s weed partner at this point, man!” He dramatically falls to his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. 

“True that!” Jaemin raises his head to shout from his spot on the couch. He looks…blasted to say the least. It’s clear his head is spinning from the sudden movement. After a moment, he just says, “woah” and tucks his head back into Jeno’s chest, who hums in delight. 

Mark captures your attention once again, patting the spot on the bed next to him. You jump up and join him. He offers the plastic bag to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Got this just for you.”

You reach for the bag excitedly, only for him to pull away from you cruelly at the last second. “Mark,” you pout at him, a frown on your face.

He simply laughs, leaning down to put his lips on the shell of your ear. “Gimme a kiss first, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes at his antics. A year ago, you would’ve choked on your own saliva hearing those words. Now, they’re like second nature to you. Leaning over the side of the bed, you pluck the blunt out of Jeno’s hand. The man in question hands it over easily, moving to pick Jaemin up and take him back to their own room. 

Turning back toward Mark, you take a hit, leaning close with your hands on his shoulders, and then exhale. He inhales the smoke, his own lips inches from yours. When he finishes the shotgun, he presses a small kiss to the side of your mouth. “Thanks baby,” he whispers. 

“Hey!” Hyuck calls out. When you turn, his eyes are locked on you and Mark. “Calling her baby is my thing!” 

A groan is heard from the opposite end of the room. “Can’t you three get a room?” Chenle asks exasperatedly. 

“We’re in our room,” Mark says in the most deadpan way he can muster. It’s not all that serious, the high leaving hints of that dopey smile on his face. It’s enough to work on Chenle though, because seconds later he’s turning the PC off and dragging Jisung out of the room by the collar of his shirt. 

As the door is shut once again, Donghyuck hops down from his bed, moving to lock it. “Finally some peace and quiet,” he mutters once he completes his task. You giggle a little at the statement. You’re not quite sure it truly qualifies as peace and quiet if you can still hear the loud music and voices from downstairs. 

The man moves once again, but this time approaches Mark’s bed, tossing himself dramatically on the end and taking the blunt out of your hand. While he occupies himself with getting even higher, you turn your attention to the man next to you. “Can I get that edible now, Markie?”

He must have been lost in thought, because your words seem to startle him. Finally, recognition sparks in his eyes once he realizes what you mean. “Oh, yeah,” he mutters, handing the plastic bag to you. 

You take it from him and unzip it, popping the gummy into your mouth. It’s strawberry flavored, one of your known favorites. You practically moan at the taste. “God, Renjun deserves some fucking head for this,” you say. 

Donghyuck snorts from his place at the end of the bed, eyes dazed but looking right at you. “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Mark deserves the head if anything. He practically got on his knees to beg Renjun to save one for you.” 

You look over at Mark to gauge his reaction. He has his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed with his face tilted slightly toward the ceiling. His hand has drifted down to your thigh, fingertips running lightly over the bare skin where your shorts end. There’s no reaction evident on his face. It’s likely that he’s completely zoned out, unaware of the conversation taking place before him. 

“That can be negotiated,” you finally say, swinging one of your legs around so that you end up straddling his lap. The sudden movement pulls him from his daydream, his head dropping to look you in the eyes. You’re hovering slightly above him, not yet giving him the pleasure of your weight on top of him.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Whatcha doing pretty girl?” His hands move to rest lightly on top of your hips. 

You lower yourself a little bit more, your skin brushing against his sweatpants. “Hyuck said you deserve a reward for bringing me an edible,” you concede. “And I need something to entertain me until it kicks in.”

Mark simply hums in response, his eyes hazy but still somewhat focused on you. You hear shuffling at the end of the bed as Donghyuck moves to put out the blunt. You’re not surprised. Ever since you and Mark invited him to join your little Friday night shenanigans, he’s been keen to be in on the action. Eager to ramp the energy up, you lean in and press a long kiss to Mark’s lips. 

It’s sloppy, especially with the way he’s clearly feeling the effects of his smoke session. You pull back a bit, admiring the way your spit decorates his lips. His eyes look lazily up into yours and you smirk when they flutter close as you grind your hips down. “Fuck,” is all he manages to say as he throws his head back. 

You let yourself get lost in the movement, your own eyes finally closing. However, you’re startled when a pair of hands settle on your waist. Halting your movements, you turn to peek over your shoulder. Donghyuck has settled on his knees in between Mark’s spread legs, his head tipped dangerously close to your neck. The grip on your hips tightens and he whispers, breath tickling the back of your neck. “Don’t stop because of me, pretty.”

When you turn back around, Mark is watching you both, his eyes heavy with desire. His hands grip your thighs relentlessly as the bulge in his pants grows larger by the second. Remembering Hyuck’s words, you grind down on him once again. “Atta girl,” you hear from behind you, and it sends a rush of heat right down to your core. 

Donghyuck controls the pace with the hands on your hips, purposefully teasing both you and Mark. Your ass brushes back against Hyuck’s own erection every few strokes. Meanwhile, the man under you starts letting out breathy moans. The longer it goes on, the more you start to feel the effects of your edible. Your senses heighten and everything feels ten times more pleasurable than if you were sober. 

The hands on your waist start to move up, making quick work of removing your shirt. Donghyuck’s mouth meets the back of your neck as he removes your bra. Mark instantly groans as your chest is freed from the material. He doesn’t waste a second, sitting up as much as he can and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. 

Between him and Hyuck, who is now leaving marks on the junction of your neck, you are not going to last very long. You don’t have to worry though, because Mark suddenly plants a hand on your stomach, pushing himself away from you. You are thrown backwards, falling into Donghyuck’s chest. 

Confused, you look down at the man who is now leaning against the headboard, flushed and panting. “What’s wrong Mark?” you ask, your own voice a little breathless. 

“I…” the man stutters. “I was gonna cum,” he finally admits. 

“Aww,” Hyuck teases. “Was Markie gonna cum just from a little humping and sucking on some titties?” Mark’s face reddens immensely and he visibly swallows, but doesn’t respond. “I think he was…” Donghyuck teases again. “How about that pretty girl? You were gonna make him cum in his pants.”

You understand Mark’s embarrassment. Your own orgasm was not that far away. To be honest, you don’t even know how Donghyuck is coherent enough to be doing all this dirty talk. It seems that both you and Mark are a little too gone for your own good. In more ways than one. 

“So selfish,” Hyuck continues, sliding a hand past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers ghost lightly over the seat of your panties, the wetness spreading uncomfortably. “Leaving our girl all wet and unsatisfied because you can’t restrain yourself.” 

You’ve never seen Mark like this. The flush on his cheeks has spread down his neck and out to his ears. Pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving like he’s catching his breath. You can see his cock jump in pants at Donghyuck’s words. He even whines a little bit. Usually he’s more dominant than this, taking the lead but relinquishing control to Hyuck every once in a while. Tonight, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. You’re intrigued. 

The man behind you taps your clit a few times, drawing you from your thoughts. You breathe out hard. “You want this?” he questions teasingly. He moves his hand a circle, the friction so delicious you have to let out a moan in response. You hear him chuckle into your ear. “Then get naked. Mark too.” 

Mark’s eyes snap forward at the mention of his name. Quickly, he makes work of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one swipe. You kick them off onto the floor somewhere. Then, you lean down and yank his shirt over his head. The action tussles his hair, which now falls into his face messily. You don’t take the time to admire it though as you help Mark shimmy his sweatpants and boxers down. It’s awkward and takes a bit of time, but finally, his cock springs free. Your mouth waters at the sight. 

“Good girl,” you hear from behind you before you can move to touch it. Mark’s hips buck up into the air and he whines. “Oh did I forget someone?” Donghyuck teases. Mark nods relentlessly. “Good boy Markie,” he whispers. Yet again, his cock jumps. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, looking for your next instruction. Hyuck clearly wants to be dominant tonight, so you’ll indulge him for Mark’s sake. He must have removed his shirt while you were busy stripping, because you’re met with the sight of his bare chest. You follow his happy trail down to where he has his cock hanging loosely out of his pants. He quirks an eye at your ogling. “You getting eager, pretty?” he asks. You nod. 

“Okay,” he tells you, head raising to look at Mark. “Ride him,” he says, leaning back on his heels lazily. You follow his instructions wordlessly, straddling the boy in front of you once again. You line yourself up with him, preparing for the stretch. A finger running up your spine halts your motions and you shudder. “Uh uh. Face me,” he demands. You hear Mark choke up a bit at the thought. 

Hesitantly, you turn around, resuming your position. Your hands are planted on the bed next to the inside of Mark’s knees, Dongyuck sitting right in front of you. You go to sink down once again, but right before you do, Hyuck grabs your chin harshly and forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me while you fuck him.”

You gulp nervously, but continue to look into his eyes. Finally, you start to sit on Mark’s cock. The second his tip enters you, he’s moaning loudly. “Holy shit,” he breathes out. His hands grip your hips harshly, like he’s trying to ground himself. Meanwhile, you’re trying so hard to maintain eye contact with Donghyuck. The feeling of being stretched out makes you want to let your eyes roll to the back of your head. He looks back at you in amusement, like he’s getting off on both you and Mark’s struggle. 

“Keep going baby,” Hyuck tells you, leaving no room for argument. You resume your motions once more and Mark is no longer keeping his sounds at bay. The room fills with a cacophony of groans. As you continue your staring contest, you see Donghyuck’s hand move out of the corner of your eye. From what you can tell, he’s started to jerk himself off at the sight of you riding Mark. It takes everything in you to not look down. 

You raise yourself up and down continuously, the pace slow, but not torturous. Mark is clearly loving it, from the way you can hear his breathing pick up. “So good,” he slurs, grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“Yeah?” he teases, finally breaking eye contact with you to look back at Mark. “Tell our pretty girl how good she’s making you feel.” 

“So good, Y/N. Making me feel so good baby,” he says, voice cracking at the end of the sentence. You’re too preoccupied to really take his words to heart. You’ve taken the opportunity to let your gaze drift down to Donghyuck’s cock and the way he strokes it casually. There’s an obscene amount of pre-cum beading at the head, dripping down onto Mark’s sheets. You moan at the sight. 

You don’t realize that Hyuck has turned his attention back to you. Suddenly, his fingers are back on your chin, slowly tilting it up. “What did I say about eye contact?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. “Good girl,” he whispers, and you pussy throbs at the praise. Mark must feel it, because he lets out an especially loud groan. 

After a moment, Donghyuck shifts forward a bit, bringing himself closer to you. “Go faster,” he instructs, while his free hand snakes down to rub circles on your clit. You jolt at the feeling, but try your hardest to continue looking him in the eyes. “So sensitive,” he coos while you finally pick up your pace. Between Mark’s cock hitting your sweet spot and Hyuck’s hand brushing roughly against your clit, you feel the pit in your stomach rising. 

You’re not sure if your moans pick up or if Donghyuck just has a sixth sense for you approaching orgasm, but either way, he calls you out. “Gonna cum?” he asks, a sick smile spreading across his face. You nod eagerly. “What about you Markie?” A mumbled yes is heard from behind. 

“Mmm,” Hyuck hums. “Better tell her to get to work then, because neither of you are cumming until I’ve cum.” Your eyes flick down to his cock, and this time he doesn’t scold you for breaking eye contact. You reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders a little and sighs. Slowly, you begin pumping him, trying your best to find all the spots that make him tick. You flick your wrist aggressively, your thumb coming up to brush at his tip every few strokes. It’s got him going for sure, but not enough to send him over the edge.

At this point, you’re getting desperate. Mark clearly is too, because he’s egging you on pleadingly, like he’s dying to cum. “C’mon pretty, please get him off. Please.”

Finally, you run your thumb down the vein on the underside of his cock and his hips jerk. Then suddenly, he’s cumming, white spraying over your stomach, onto Mark's legs, and the sheets. You let him come down a bit, his chest heaving and his head thrown back carelessly. Once his eyes flutter open, you do your best to put a pleading look on your face. “Hyuck, please let us cum.” 

He nods wordlessly and you take it as a sign to pick up the pace once more. Mark gasps from behind you and you gasp in response as Donghyuck flicks your clit over and over. Moments later, you’re finally hitting the edge. “I’m cumming,” you announce breathlessly, leaning forward to let your head rest again Hyuck’s chest. 

The pulsations from your orgasm carry Mark to completion too, his cock twitching within your walls and painting them white. He lets out a guttural groan and you moan at the feeling of his cum inside you. As you come down, Hyuck has one hand on the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your hair. His other hand does the same thing on Mark’s lower thigh. 

He lets you both recover for a minute before speaking. “I may be high as fuck still, but we might want to sleep in my bed tonight,” he says, looking down to the spot on the sheets where some of Mark’s cum has dripped down to mix with his own. 

“Yeah,” Mark says groggily from behind you. “This is gross.” You tuck your head further into Donghyuck’s chest in embarrassment. 

Mark laughs at your actions. “Why so shy all of a sudden, pretty?” he mocks. 

“You have no room to talk Markie,” you tease back. Donghyuck’s chest rumbles as he laughs at your banter. 

“Okay,” Hyuck finally concedes, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you off Mark. You whine as you become empty, spend dripping out of you. “Let’s get cleaned up. Then we can cuddle,” he declares, carrying you to the attached bathroom. Mark’s footsteps follow behind you. You sigh in contentment, ready to relax with you two favorite boys.