#sigh. if you somehow read this all: thank you

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.

[aisiedaisie]

Helllllo!! Could you maybe do a wolfstar x reader (or anyone if you don’t do that :))) with a reader who lovesssss makeup and has like a big collection and spends a bunch of money on it and maybe the boys being super intrigued or confused by it? <3

Hello hello~!!! Thank you for this amazing idea! I wasn’t sure if you were asking for romantic or platonic wolfstar but I may have gone the romantic route. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, it seems I am utterly incapable of writing short stories... Hopefully you don't mind!

Poly! Wolfstar x Fem!Reader WC: 2k

You breathe out, the exhale a soft puff that lingers in the chilly air. Your fingers run through your hair, frustration creeping up your spine.

It's a mess���which wasn’t new for days like this. The winter winds have stolen every ounce of moisture, leaving your strands dry and unruly. The static makes each strand stand on end, refusing to fall into place as you try to tame them with a bit of leave-in conditioner.

But today, of all days, it needs to cooperate.

You glance in the mirror, taking in your reflection. This is the first time you're hosting date night at your place, and after hours of prepping dinner, tidying up every inch of the apartment, your hair had become the least cooperative part of the evening. You sigh, trying to smooth the mess down, but it feels hopeless.

A light knock on the door pulls your attention away, snapping you out of your frustration. Your heart gives a flutter, and you take a moment to steady your nerves. The knocking continues, a little more insistent, and you curse under your breath as you give your reflection one last look. Your cream knit sweater and well-worn jeans are fine—fine—but not exactly what you'd imagined wearing on such a special evening. It’s casual, maybe too much so, but you tell yourself to let it go. You smooth down the hem and force a shy smile.

The door creaks open, and you greet them with a soft, sweet "Hey." Your voice betrays a touch of nerves, but you stand tall, holding the door wide open as you invite them inside.

Remus and Sirius stand frozen in the hallway just outside your door, their eyes taking in your appearance with an intensity that makes you feel as though they're seeing straight through you. A soft smile spreads across Remus’s face, while Sirius’s lips curl into a wolfish grin. They both seem to sense the knot of anxiety in your chest, reading it effortlessly, as if it was as obvious as the frazzled mess of your hair.

"Hey, dove, you okay there?" Remus asks, his voice a gentle murmur as he bends down, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of your head. The sudden contact sends a spark of calm through you, though the tightness in your stomach doesn’t quite fade.

"Yeah, you look a bit nervous," Sirius adds, his tone teasing yet soft. His lips brush your cheek in a quick kiss as he steps past you into the flat, his eyes flicking over the space, taking in the cozy chaos of your preparations.

The living room, while small, is filled with the soft charm of the season. A few scattered holiday decorations dot the space—pine cones nestled in a crystal dish on the dark wood coffee table, their spiced scent mingling with the candles burning nearby. The flickering lights cast a warm glow across the room, the air thick with the comforting scent of mulled cider and cinnamon, drifting lazily from the kitchen.

They’ve been here before, of course. They’ve picked you up for dates, lingered in the living room while you finished getting ready. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, they’re not just picking you up. They’re settling in, staying awhile, and something in the atmosphere shifts. The space feels fuller, more alive somehow, even with the quiet tension you’re trying so hard to hide.

"Come on in, make yourselves at home," you say, your voice a little steadier now, though still laced with uncertainty. You close the door behind them, your fingers brushing along the handle as you take their coats and drape them over the back of the couch. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding, giving you something to focus on.

You lead them into the dining room, where the table is set in preparation for dinner. White tealights glow softly, casting delicate shadows on the polished surface. Your nice dinner plates gleam under the candlelight, silverware set just so, ready to be used. It’s a simple, intimate setup, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s enough.

Remus pauses in the center of the room, scanning the flat before turning back to you with a gentle smile. “Do you mind if I use the restroom, love?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement as he looks around the space, searching for the door.

You smile softly, pointing down the hallway. "It’s the second door on the left," you say, your voice light.

Remus nods with a grateful look before darting down the hallway, eager to relieve himself. Sirius watches him go with a shake of his head, chuckling under his breath. "He’s had to pee since we got to your street," Sirius says, his tone laced with affection and amusement.

You can’t help but laugh, your fingers busying themselves with pouring warm cider into mugs. 

That’s when you hear Remus’s voice, sharp and full of surprise. "What the hell?"

A rush of concern flutters through you, catching your breath. You freeze, the warm cider sloshing in the cup you hold, spilling a few droplets as you try to make sense of his exclamation. What did I forget? Was it your hairbrush on the counter again? No... you made sure it was put away. You rack your brain for a moment, but nothing stands out.

Sirius, ever the quick one, is already walking down the hall, following the sound of Remus’s voice. You move to follow, two steps behind him, a strange tightness settling in your chest.

You watch as they reach the second door on the right, and your eyes widen.

Sirius peeks in first, curiosity piqued, and his voice rings out with a hint of amusement. "Moons?" he asks, stepping into the space. He tilts his head to look around, his gaze landing on the long white vanity in front of them. Your heart skips a beat as you catch up, now standing in the doorway just behind them.

The vanity stretches out before you, gleaming under the soft light. Clear storage cabinets line the sides of the mirror, each one filled to the brim with various cosmetics: lipsticks in shades you can’t even name, neatly arranged bottles of foundation, and an assortment of brushes that you’d long since given up organizing. Your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and mild surprise, realizing they’ve stumbled upon your private little collection.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Remus stands there, his expression somewhere between shock and genuine curiosity. The air between the three of you crackles with unspoken words as you stand in the doorway, feeling every bit of their gaze on the cluttered, yet carefully curated, space.

Your lips press together as you try to formulate an explanation, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. What can I possibly say now that they've seen all of this? You stand there, torn between embarrassment and amusement, watching the two of them as they take in the sight of your beauty room.

“Holy shit, love, I knew you liked makeup, but I didn’t think you liked it this much,” Sirius says, his tone an odd mix of shock and awe. He steps closer, eyes roving over the meticulously organized rows of products. Beside him, Remus examines the array with a look of sheer bewilderment.

“You... you actually use all of this?” he asks, gesturing to the overflowing drawers, as if struggling to comprehend.

You nod shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not all at once, of course, but... yeah.” You glance over at them, hoping they’re not overwhelmed.

Sirius reaches out, his eyes lighting up as he picks up a familiar tube. “This is the lipstick I bought you for Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, a fond smile spreading across his face. He turns the deep red Gucci lipstick in his fingers, the one he’d surprised you with on that special day. It’s a brand you’d never splurge on for yourself, and the fact that he remembers only softens the moment.

Remus clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Alright, hang on—I really need to pee, but we are so talking about this when I get back.” He gives you a quick, reassuring smile before dashing out of the room, leaving you alone with Sirius, who is still absorbing the scope of your collection.

Noticing your discomfort, Sirius settles himself into the plush chair in front of your vanity mirror. He catches your eye in the reflection, a mischievous gleam brightening his gaze. “Love, can you do my makeup?” His grey eyes lock with yours, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“What do you want, Siri?” you ask, moving to stand behind him, your hands instinctively finding their way into his dark, unruly curls. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back into your touch, a low groan escaping his lips.

“Reggie’s been wearing eyeliner lately, and it actually looks pretty cool. Can you do that for me?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed, totally at ease.

A sweet hum escapes you as you think it over. “Are we talking waterline or a wing?” you ask, fingers combing gently through his hair.

“Which one’s easier?” he asks, eyes cracking open to meet yours, genuine curiosity lighting his face.

“For you? Probably a wing,” you explain with a smile, reaching over his shoulder to grab your favorite liquid liner. “Putting it in your waterline can get uncomfortable. I’ll go easy on you.”

He chuckles, a small smirk forming as he settles in, clearly ready for whatever you’re about to do.

Remus steps back into the room, his hands settling on your hips with an easy familiarity. You feel his warmth as you focus, steadying the felt-tip pen and carefully flicking it to form the perfect wing at the corner of Sirius’s closed eyes.

“And what exactly are you two up to?” he asks, voice laced with fond amusement. His hazel eyes shine with a soft curiosity, watching as you carefully hover over Sirius.

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Just spreading my love of makeup,” you quip, your voice light with humor.

At that, Sirius opens his eyes slowly, catching sight of himself in the vanity mirror. The sharp lines of the eyeliner bring a new edge to his look, making his grey eyes look strikingly intense. A small, satisfied grin spreads across his face as he takes in the transformation. “Damn—I look good.”

“When don’t you look good?” Remus laughs, shaking his head as he leans in closer. There’s a warmth in his gaze, a kind of love that makes the room feel cozier.

You smile, leaning across Sirius once more to reach for your favorite lip oil. Without a second thought, you swipe it across your lips, the slight sheen catching the light before you turn, tiptoeing to press a soft, lingering kiss to Remus’s lips. He blinks in surprise, feeling the film of oil on his lips, and a bashful smile spreads across your face.

“There. Now you’re dolled up too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remus’s cheeks flush, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “Lucky me,” he replies, squeezing your hips gently.

You dart your gaze away, the warmth of the moment lingering as your eyes catch the soft glow of the digital clock on the corner of your vanity. The numbers blink back at you, a gentle reminder of time ticking by.

With a small sigh, you reluctantly shake yourself out of the cozy, dreamlike bubble surrounding the three of you. “We should head back out. I’ve got dinner in the oven.”

Sirius groans dramatically but rises from the chair, throwing you an affectionate look as he reaches out to link his arm with yours. Remus follows, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, the three of you moving back into the warmth of the dining room, surrounded by candlelight and the smell of cider that fills the air like a promise of a perfect evening ahead.

[leecherish]

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[angelfrombeneth]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.

[fakebwitch]

rafe finds your panties in his car [smut, jerking off, perv!rafe]

part two

you had an appointment to get your nails done, rafe was at an important business meeting and couldn't take you, since a friend of his was picking him up his car was in the garage, you asked him if you could use his car, and he said yes.

as you get back you parked the car in the garage, turned off the car while picked up the things you had left scattered around the car, putting them back in the bag, and that's where you had an idea.

you thought, rafe had let you use his car by paying for your new set of nails, you had to somehow thank him. a grin grew on your face as you rose slightly from the seat, your hands went under your skirt finding the elastic band of your panties, you grabbed it pushing it down and once you got to your ankles you pulled them completely off. your grin grew even more as you put the lace panties on the gearshift.

after completing your little work of art, you grabbed your purse and keys, opened the door and got out of the car, locking it. you made your way inside the house, the sound of your heels walking on the floor caught his attention.

"hey baby" he greeted you with a smile, getting up from the couch, "rafeyy" you said immediately running into his arms, he pulled you toward him grabbing you by the hips, 4 hours without seeing him was too much for your liking. "how did it go?" he asked with a smile at your clinginess as his hand gently stroked your back, "all good" you replied pulling away from him slightly with a smile, showing him your nails.

"they're perfect baby" he said as he looked at them carefully, he knew you didn’t play about your nails, "i know, aren't they?" you said with a smile turning your hand toward you, looking back at the design for the twentieth time.

you slipped your hand into your jacket pocket pulling out his car keys, "here they are" you said shaking them in front of his face, he grabbed them as you said "thank you so much baby, i love you" you said giving him a kiss, he smiled into the kiss as he whispered "i love you too".

as he deepened the kiss in your head you couldn't help but think of the little surprise you had left for him in the car, just waiting for him to find out. you knew very well that he loved your lingerie, one way or another he was always trying to steal some panties from you so he could keep them when, as he said, “he needed them," and you also knew what for.

the next morning rafe woke up early, he had to attend another business meeting. it was a stressful week, he was full of commitments regarding work finding himself having little time to spend with you. he grabbed the keys of his car as he yawned while heading to the garage, the phone rang in his pocket causing him to sigh as he rolled his eyes, he took it in his hands reading the name of the contact who was calling him, he sighed again deciding to answer it, it was one of the men he was in business with.

"hey, what's up?" said rafe trying to sound as unbothered as possible, the last thing he wanted to do right now was to have a call regarding the various problems that kept coming up. as the man took up the conversation, explaining that business would slow down for reasons he would list for him later, rafe opened the garage door, letting out occasionals little "mhm."

he pulled out his car keys, pressed the button and without looking inside the car opened the door and sat down. "yes, i was aware of that, i just talked to hollis about it yesterday and we both agreed that..." he froze when out of the corner of his eye he saw something white that caught his attention, he shifted his eyes to the mysterious object.

he took a deep breath realizing it was your underwear.

“rafe? are you still there?" the man's voice rang on the other side of the phone, rafe took a few more seconds to look at the piece of underwear and then answered, "y-yeah i'm here sorry, actually i'm kinda busy right now, i'm gonna call you when i'm free" he quickly came up with, wanting to end the call as soon as possible.

"oka-"

before the man could’ve finished rafe immediately hang up. his hands reached out to grab the garment, his fingers rubbed the lace. he looked at the inner part, that was in contact with your pussy, noticing a small wet spot, he didn't think about it for a second and brought the panty closer to his face, his nose made contact with the fabric, inhaling strongly as your smell flooded his nostrils. you just knew how to drive him crazy.

he couldn't help but think about being between your legs as he continued to breathe in your scent, making you feel good as your hands pushed him closer to your pussy, his cock twitching at the thought of having his lips on your wet folds.

as he kept the panties close to his face, with his free hand he quickly untied his belt, unbuttoned his pants pushing them down just enough along with his underwear to get his now semi-hard cock out. his head thought of your sweet taste, your little whimpers when he overstimulated you too much as your smell intoxicated his brain.

with his right hand he began to lightly rub his length, little sounds escaped his lips, muffled by the fabric of your panties. he went further as with his thumb he stroked the tip, pink and swollen, screaming to be inside you, his hand tightened even more around his shaft quickly rubbing the part just below the tip, it drove him crazy.

he kept rubbing as he imagined his hand was yours, little drops of pre cum were coming out of his tip, mixing with his rapidly working hands, creating obscene wet sounds.

his wrist beginning to ache, from how fast he was moving, as he lingered for a few seconds with his thumb, rubbing the tip. he was a mess of moans, his legs twitching as his breathing grew deeper and deeper, his body temperature now crazy.

he moved your panties away from his face and wrapped them around his cock as he resumed rubbing his hard cock with his hand, continuous whimpers escaped his lips as the lace rubbed against the delicate veins of his cock.

"fuuuuck" he breathed, he didn't think he could hold back much longer. he pushed his hips upward as his hand worked up and down his length, his head turned back as continuous moans mixed with cursing escaped his lips.

"h-holy shiit..." he murmured through clenched teeth, the rough fabric of the lace touching the soft tip of his cock made him shudder, his cock throbbing in his hands, eager to cum as soon as possible.

he was in pure ectasy, totally overwhelmed by the pleasure he was experiencing, the only image in his head at that moment was you, and you were helping him finish himself off. "oh y/n please..." he said almost crying, his voice cracked with pleasure as his hand moved even faster down the length, he hadn't even realized he had begged you when you weren't even there.

as his hand tightened around the tip, images of you filled his head, thinking about the way your eyes looked at him every time he thrust into you mercilessly, the way your tits bounced as his body slammed into yours, as his hand grabbed your neck making your eyes roll as he pushed you to the edge, that image was enough to make his cock cum.

"oh fuck me...." he managed to say as his hand moved slower, riding his high, moans and whining came from his lips as he pressed the tip making sure not a drop of his liquid was wasted.

half of it was on his hands, but most of it had ended up on your panties. he let go his grip on his cock, feeling overstimulated as he tried to catch his breath. realization hit him soon after, realizing the 'obscenity of the act he had just performed.

did he regret it? no. had it been one of the best handjobs? yes.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it��s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[tojisun]

something about best friend simon not knowing any boundaries (or, deliberately bulldozing through boundaries)—

the way he’s the one who picks you up in the airport even though you and your boyfriend already made arrangements for the pick up, but simon just says he offered to take over because your parents needed help setting things up in their lake house and that your boyfriend offered to help them.

(simon made him offer to help. it’s hidden so well behind honest concern that your boyfriend didn’t notice that simon’s been pushing him into the role until simon's calling out his goodbye's, saying he's off to pick you up now.

"oh, i can-"

"don't sweat it, mate," simon replies with a pinched smile. "i'll drive carefully, promise. bring her back, all safe and lovely.")

you didn’t even know simon’s invited to the vacation, but you gladly murmured to him your thanks, too caught up in your exhaustion to notice the little mean grin that tugged his lips up.

you clamber to his rover messily, blinking slowly, and before you can reach over to buckle your seatbelt, simon leans over and does it for you.

"could've done it myself, y'know?" you whine.

"sure you can," he grunts as he pulls himself back to his seat. "not like y'were one blown wind away from keeling over, but sure."

you roll your eyes at him playfully before biting a giggle when he scrunches his nose at you in reply.

he takes the long route back.

"want anythin' to eat?" simon asks after a while.

"don't we—" you pause, yawning. "need to hurry back?"

"not really," he replies, eyes flicking to the side mirror before he rounds a sharp curve. your body jostles, falling to the side, slipping towards the gear, and simon's hand falls to your lap to steady you.

he doesn't remove it even when the road straightens.

"okay," you finally reply, tired eyes blinking at the size of his hand on your leg. "m'kinda hungry."

he huffs a fond laugh and says he knows a place close by.

it's a local burger joint, apparently known for their fries and milkshake. simon buys you one.

"aww," you croon, grabby hands pulling the cold cup closer to you. "thank you, si."

you two eat in his rover, too lazy to actually settle in the diner.

it's greasy and messy and delicious. simon says you look filthy, before reaching over to wipe the stray milkshake on the corner of your lips. you poke your tongue out to him in reply; he says to swallow that back in before he yanks it out.

you laugh, chucking a balled-up napkin towards him before jumping out of his SUV to run to the bathroom.

(you didn't notice the throngs of messages coming in from your boyfriend nor the way simon swiped your phone from your back pocket and kept it.

he remembers your passcode—still unchanged even after all these years—and reads the messages that your boyfriend sent.

he's asking if you've landed or if you and simon are on your way back. he says he also misses you dearly, and that he can't wait to finally be with you again.

simon deletes them all.)

the two of you return when it’s well into the night, and everyone's gone to sleep. you sigh, feeling the exhaustion hitting you harder now, and amble to your room where you know your boyfriend must be waiting for you, only to stop when simon holds your arm.

"wanna sleep with me?"

"what," you begin, turning your sleepy eyes up at him. "no that's alright. my boyfriend's—"

"asleep, already. probably got ordered 'round by your pa, huh?" he smiles, his thumb swiping along the side of your forearm. "y'might wake up the poor lad if you go there so why don't you sleep in my room just for tonight?"

simon's words wash over you and you know, somehow, there's something wrong with them, with him, but your mind is bogged down by your drowsiness. you can't rationalize what's going on, so you say yes.

that's all simon needed to pull you to his room and into his bed.

you slip out of your clothes, per simon's instructions—his words all muffled as you try to stay up awake—and slip into something loose and baggy—stretched in its overuse but so comfortable on your skin.

it's simon's shirt, you'll learn tomorrow, but for now, you drop to the bed, your eyes shut close, and fall in deep sleep.

the last thing you feel is the heavy dip on the mattress behind you before a thick arm is thrown over your side, pressing into the fat of your stomach to push you back and into simon's front.

limbs lay tangled together, breaths shared, and the summer heat buzzing as skin meets skin.

-

simon doesn't get any better after that. he gets so clingy, and intrudes in your space and forces your boyfriend out.

your boyfriend complained, of course he did, but what could you do? what could you say? simon's your childhood friend so there's nothing malicious between you two. there's nothing more into it.

he gave up fighting then, fists tucked close to his sides as you kissed his jaw and told him to trust you on your words.

but—

how can he calm down? how can he not burn in anger when he sees the way simon pulls you to his lap and you readily nuzzle close. granted it's all because the two of you are watching some game on your phone and the position must be the only way to watch it comfortably, whatever, but it rubs him so wrong how familiar you and simon fall into each other.

how can he not doubt your words when he catches simon's eyes narrowed at him in quiet delight, before deliberately curling his arm around your stomach, and throws the other one on your lap, so dangerously close to your crotch.

it's even worse when the family gathers to the lake, and you and simon are chasing each other, playfighting in front of everyone. simon picks you up with ease, big hands digging into the fat of your belly or your thighs or gripping your ass like simon's so intimately familiar with your body.

how can he not hate himself a little bit when he realizes that it was always you and simon. that that's the dynamic.

-

(and if simon successfully seduces you during this vacation, well—)

-

ext

[alastorss]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

~

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

[taegularities]

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[nachojaehyun]

you give good love

pairing. brother’s best friend! idol! dino + fem! reader

summary. as lee chan’s eyes met yours again, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

w.c. 5.10K

playlist. kind of based off of you give good love by whitney houston but not really i was just listening to it while writing this

warnings. [PLEASE READ] reader is hoshi’s sister, mentions of freak dino 🫢, smut under the cut, PWP, afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom chan, pussy eating from the BACK, uses of pet names, chan has a BIG dick, BULGE KINK, very little dirty talking, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl please), creampie duh — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. pi-cheollin is the reason i live and breathe. also i might write chunsunie x pi-cheollin fics soon 😭 also thank you guys so so so much for 2K notes on the wonwoo fic 🙇‍♀️ super grateful for all your love, more soon. this is also my first ever long fic, so i hope you like it. enjoy!

“so yeah, those are the dates and timings of the flight. now, check your schedule.”

soonyoung could hear the ruffling of paper as he waited on the phone. the air con blasted in his face, evaporating any signs of sweat from his pores.

“yeah, i think i’ll be able to make it!” your voice chirped. soonyoung couldn’t help the smile on his face. “thank god! also, don’t worry about being lonely, jeonghan hyung’s sister will also be there, and also wonwoo’s sister.”

“i haven’t seen them in so long! wow, a true trip down memory lane,” you sighed, finally setting aside the calendar on your lap. “they ask about you a lot, i told you to exchange contacts with them!” your brother scolded you.

“i may have forgotten… but all that aside, how much do i need to pack?” you nervously bit your lip, contemplating how much shopping you would need to do.

“it’s a summer trip for one week, basically a mini vacation. pack a good amount of shirts and tops and modest shorts. bring your grandma style swimsuits for the pool.”

“grandma style swimsuit? oh please! i didn’t work out all winter to wear a one-piece!” you complained, flexing your biceps in front of the mirror. “i’ll bring what i want to bring.”

“and if i see any of these perverts staring at you, i’ll chop your head off too, yeah?” soonyoung sighed. “yeah yeah, they are the perverts. and you’re the polished lamb of jesus who has never gawked at wonwoo’s sister right?”

your rhetorical question has your brother stunned as he gapes into the abyss, his mouth filling up with the cool air from the air con. “i’m… how did you—” he begins, only to be cut off by the doorbell of his shared apartment.

“that’s the others. look, i’ll leave now, but make sure to pack properly, okay? text me if you need anything. see you soon.”

with that, he hung up. you smiled as you set down your phone, already deciding the outfits in your head.

as you walked over to your closet, your phone interrupted your thought process with a loud notification.

이찬: oi

이찬: did you get the plane tickets?

with a sigh, you texted back your brother’s best friend, who had somehow managed to find out about soonyoung inviting you.

you: ya, i will be coming.

you could see the dots bouncing on the screen, but you chose to ignore them. switching over to a music app, you started to scroll through and pick your random playlist.

your brother’s song, God of Music started to play and you threw your phone on the bed, enjoying the music.

you could text chan back later. he was really annoying, and it’s not like he meant anything to you anyway.

your phone buzzed with his notifications as you sorted through swim suits. “hmm, this makes my ass look fat right?”

as you landed in the jeju international airport, you gathered your luggage and made your way to the gates.

your brother was already waiting outside, clad in a mask and a cap. wonwoo and his sister accompanied him, smiling and waving at you.

“hey guys!” you hugged them, before fixing the crop top that rode up your waist. “i missed you so much!” minji (wonwoo’s sister) squealed.

the four of you got in the car after shoving your luggage in the back. wonwoo sat next to your brother, scrolling through his phone as you and minji chatted their ears off.

soonyoung couldn’t help but peek at the rear view mirror ever so often, catching glances of minji and smiling to himself.

you wanted to call him out, but decided against embarrassing your brother so early into the trip.

within 30 minutes, you had reached the share house. it was a beautiful property, surrounded by greenery. the sounds of waves crashing on the beach wallowed around you as you dragged your suitcase up the ramp.

“eunsok is dying to meet you! we must make a group chat this time, so that we remember to check up on each other, yeah?” minji helped you with your handbag, smiling as you nodded enthusiastically.

in front of the main door, you took in a sharp breath, before pushing the mahogany portico open.

immediately inside, you were greeted by jeonghan, joshua and mingyu lounging about on the couch. however, upon the sound of your entrance, eunseok ran down the stairs, engulfing both you and minji in a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed you!” she screamed, nearly tackling you on the floor. with a giggle, you hugged her back. “me too! its just sad that sophie couldn’t join us.”

muttering agreements under their giggly breath, the two helped you get up, and greet the others.

as you answered jeonghan’s questions about your well-being, you heard heavy footsteps from the stairs.

lee chan’s body appeared downstairs. when his gaze countered yours, you choked on your words.

it had been nearly 5 years since you had seen him in person. and wow, had he changed. dino, as he was famously known as these days, sported much bigger muscles, and a sculpted face. his hairstyle was finally suiting his face, a beautiful contrast to the bowl cuts you had seen him in during childhood.

for the first time in your life, you actually looked at him. and boy, did he look good. the tank top he wore showed off his body as he walked towards you, checking you out silently.

he had to admit, you surprised him. your black crop top, barely there jean shorts, and long brown hair came as a huge shock to chan.

he had remembered you as the snot-faced bratty sister of his best friend. the girl in pigtails who would cry every time he brought up your crush in middle school.

as lee chan’s eyes met yours, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

“hi,” chan finally placed himself in front of you, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “hi,” you breathed out, clutching the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“oh, you guys are meeting after so long!” mingyu chuckled, his eyes wandering around the room as he noticed the tension between you and his youngest member.

“yeah,” you smiled, transfixed by chan’s eyes. his plush lips parted as he glanced at your glossy ones, before quickly scanning your face.

“okay, that’s enough of your weird staring contest,” soonyoung placed a hand on chan’s chest, pushing him back to create some distance between you two.

“i’ll help you get to your room,” he turned to you. “you’re lucky, since you get it to yourself, but its comparatively smaller and narrower than the others—”

“wait, weren’t we supposed to buy alcohol and meat from the store on the way back?” wonwoo suddenly remembered, making all the eyes in the room turn to him.

“shit!” minji slapped her forehead, tutting. “we’ll go get them then! you wanna come with?” she smiled at you, eunseok joining in.

“i think i should set up my things first yeah? but take soonyoung in my place,” you shoved your brother forward. “he’d love to go grocery shopping with you.”

minji’s cheeks flared up as she straightened her posture, nodding. “sure yeah.”

within minutes, wonwoo, minji, eunseok, soonyoung and mingyu headed off to the car, ready to buy crates of beer for the evening.

as the door shut behind him, jeonghan threaded his hands through his hair, smirking. “dino-yah,” he cooed. “why don’t you help her with her luggage?”

almost immediately, joshua joined in, egging on the maknae as both of you felt the heat creep up on your neck.

wordlessly, chan snatched your suitcase from your hand, beckoning you upstairs. you bowed at the two elder to you, before running up to chan.

he led you to a small room in the very corner of the second floor, opening the door with his leg as he walked in.

chan cleared his throat as you walked in, placing your hands on your bare waist. “so, this is your room.”

you nodded at him, taking in your space for the rest of the trip. the room was furnished with a queen sized bed, a love-seat in the corner, a small desk and chair and a balcony in the very end.

“this door,” chan walked over to a door that sat perpendicular to the entry. “this is the door to a common bathroom. its a jack and jill one, that connects to the room opposite to you.”

“oh? and who’s in the room opposite to me?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. with a dramatic sigh, chan leaned against the bathroom door, swinging his head to meet your eyes.

“its me.”

your breath hitched as he gulped. “w-wow,” you stuttered out. “sounds great, chan. looks like we are forced together again,” you smirked, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he knew what you were referring to.

back when you were kids, and way before the idiot in front of you had signed with Pledis, you and soonyoung had gone to his house for a sleepover. chan’s mother had insisted on having you sleep on the bed, since “the floor is no place for a lady to sleep.” you and chan shared the bed, while soonyoung dozed off on the ground.

you were 14 at that time, and you remember how you skin had heated up when chan inched closer to you. “there’s no one to save you from my tickles now, crybaby!” the 15 year old boy had threatened.

yet, chan could barely focus on the flashback, instead focusing on the way your breasts nearly fell out from the neckline of your top.

you noticed his staring. smirking, you drew closer, tightening the cross of your arms.

“what’s this now, you’re ogling at me?”

you had him cornered. chan’s back was against the wall at you forced yourself into his space, breasts touching his hard torso.

“i—in you dreams!” he lied through his teeth, nervousness oozing out of his soul as he stared down at your tits.

god, the things he would do to slot his dick between those beautiful, gorgeous, one of a kind—

“my eyes are up here, channie,” you stuck your tongue out at him, before backing away and walking up to your suitcase.

dino felt his blood rushing south as you bent over to pick your bag up and place it on the table.

you purposefully wiggled your ass, humming to yourself. “channie,” you called out, voice as sweet as a siren.

“yeah?” dino collected himself, shaking away the filth that plagued his mind. two can play that game, he decided, biting his lip.

“can you come help me put my things in the bathroom? i have too much to unpack.”

with a nod, he walked over to your space, his chest touching your back as he leaned over your shoulder. “why did you pack so much, hm?” he teased you, running his fingers down your smooth arms.

not backing down from the challenge, you pushed your ass against him, whipping your head to meet his eyes. “i just wanted to look good, y’know? in case there was a strong, buff, hot man i wanted to seduce.”

with a hiss at your movements, chan’s hands flew to your hips. “yeah? you’ve grown up so much that you seduce men now?”

“oh, i do a lot more than just seduce,” you giggled, skincare long forgotten on the desk as you turned around, hopping on the wooden platform as your arms loosely slung around his neck.

chan slotted his knee between your legs, the pervert in him alive and breathing at the sight of you. you were driving him insane.

how you had managed to change so much over a few years had him baffled. instead of worrying about soonyoung, chan thought with his dick.

“what do you do then?” he questioned, eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. you pushed your clothed cunt down on his knee, biting back a moan.

“i think i would rather show you what i do than tell you,” you whimpered out, darkened eyes peering into his hazy ones.

chan bent his knee further into you, causing a delicious moan to escape your throat. “getting bold now, aren’t you?”

before you could even comprehend his words, your pussy spoke before you, hips rutting into his knee. however, a sharp knock on the door interrupted your little hump session.

“chan? y/n?” seungcheol’s voice spoke from behind the door. “you guys in there?”

chan quickly separated from you, walking closer to the door to answer. “yeah, i’m just helping her with her stuff. what’s up?”

“well, we were ordering some take out, so if you guys could come down and give your preferences, it would be great.”

“yeah, be there in a second,” chan glanced back at you, your teary eyes meeting his. the fucked out expression on your face made his dick jump to life.

but the heat of the moment had passed, which painted both of your cheek's a deep shade of red. realization hit dino way faster than it hit you. shooting you a tight-lipped smile, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

with a sigh, chan left the room and left you breathless, panting as your senses slowly returned. the fire of lust in your stomach had dimmed slightly, as realization dawned on you.

what the fuck just happened? and why did you like it?

nightfall arrived faster than you expected. but the cool air surrounding the beach raised bumps on your skin as you shoved grilled meat down your throat.

seungkwan and mingyu worked on the grill, with vernon filling up everyone’s plates with the expensive store bought items.

you sat on a stool next to seungcheol, sipping on the beer can that was handed to you. when everyone was busy with their own thing, the leader turned to you and smiled.

“so, how have you been? a long time has passed since we spoke right?”

you had always found comfort in seungcheol. he was the leader of the group, a very reliable and trustworthy person. you remember asking him for advice when you got into college.

“i’ve been well, how are you?” you set your can aside. “any luck with the ladies you used to complain about?”

he laughs loudly at that, spooning a mouthful of ramen. “no, i’m still stuck with one-night stands for now. dating is too complicated!”

when chan hears his hyung talking about his love life, he scoots closer to the both of you, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“what about you? get any action?” seungcheol giggled.

you could practically feel dino’s presence beside you like a wavering shadow, and you chose to exploit it. how dare he leave you with an unfinished orgasm?

“oh yeah, plenty!” you smirked. “don’t tell soonyoung, but i’m lowkey addicted to sex? just feels so good to let off some steam, you know? and the dudes around me are so easy… they fall into my hands like domino.”

the harsh truth behind those words were only known to you. you had been on a dry spell for nearly 2 months now. your fingers and toys were not enough, and you were pretty sure you had started to hallucinate about dick.

“wah, kwon hoshi’s sister is all grown up, huh? good for you girl, go get them!” seungcheol cheered you on, clinking his can with yours.

you sneakily turned to look at chan, who had suddenly grown silent in his conversation with seokmin. “dino-yah. are you okay?”

chan’s eyes met yours and he immediately tensed up. you noticed how white his knuckles had turned, just from gripping wooden chopsticks.

“i’m fine,” he smiled, eyes dancing over your body before he returned to his friend. your bralette was doing nothing to hide your slightly tanned skin, black shorts making your perky ass stand out even more.

dino mentally cursed soonyoung for even allowing you to wear that. but then again, his best friend was too preoccupied with his little crush to pay you any attention.

the rest of the mini barbeque was a tough time for him. the poor boy could only think about your tantalizing words to seungcheol, calling a sweet string of cusses to all the men that touched you before he ever could.

you noticed how your plan was working, hiding your smirk behind a colorful can of beer as lee chan suffered in silence.

within a few hours of outdoor activity, jun and minghao said goodnight to everyone first, tired of all the hustle and bustle. a few others followed suit, yawning and sighing.

at the end of the night greetings, you, dino, wonwoo, seungcheol, soonyoung, minji, and joshua remained near the pool. you saw how your brother kept leeching up to minji, cracking idiotic jokes under her brother's watchful eye.

"i... i think i'll head to bed now, good night guys!" you stretched up from your chair. chan's eyes followed the way your skin gleamed under the fairy lights. he gulped loudly as you purposefully swayed your hips while walking inside.

"you can follow her in, chan-ah," wonwoo smiled, shifting his gaze to the youngest momentarily. "i'll keep kwon hoshi here for a while."

"what are you on about?" dino tried to play it off, scoffing as he crunched up a beer can. wonwoo could only roll his eyes.

"it's obvious you like her, and i'm just giving you a chance to work on it. you really should tone down the staring... soonyoung would kill you if he found out, and i am willing to help you for now. so don't be an idiot and go."

smiling toothily at his hyung, dino whispered out an "i love you" before running up the stairs. he reached his room without breaking a sweat and decided to shower before doing anything.

however, when he was about to slide the door to your shared bathroom open, he heard a loud sigh coming from inside. shamelessly, chan pushed his ear against the door, curious as to what you were doing.

your sigh was followed by a small whisper that sounded like "i can't believe i'm doing this." then, chan heard a zipper being opened.

his eyes widened as he realized what you were actually doing. "no way," he mouthed to himself, feeling his boner re-emerging at a sudden squelching noise.

"mhm," you moaned behind the door, and the pervert in the next room could only imagine what you looked like. "f-fuck chan!" you whimpered, and dino felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

the towel dropped from his hand, as his fingers sneaked to the hem of his basketball shorts. with a silent groan, chan stroked his chub as his eyes squeezed shut.

he pulled his cock out, swiping at his tip with his thumb. his brain worked overtime to imagine your hand in place of his, pretty eyes staring up at him.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as your fingers stretched open your pussy. "feels so good," you whimpered, pitch increasing as you imagined his veiny hands pumping into you.

unbeknownst to each other, you and chan had cum to the thoughts of one another that night. chan made sure to cum at the same time as you, recognizing your borderline screams as you tipped over the edge.

what a filthy girl, he thought to himself, panting as his release spurted onto the towel he had discarded.

the starting 3 full days of the trip had made you avoid lee chan like he was the plague but personified.

every glance into his eyes had made you remember what you had done on that one night, and guilt seemed to sour your mood.

everyone had decided to go to the beach after having a few afternoon drinks. you spent your time around eunseok and vernon, gossipping about office trolls and work place shenanigans.

chan was simply drinking with seungkwan and minghao, refusing to give you any attention. although he was confused as to why you were ignoring him, he remained silent and decided to give you space.

jihoon suddenly joined into his conversation, hair tied back into a messy ponytail. “dino-ah,” he smirked, snatching a shot glass from the youngest’s hand. “i hear that there’s gonna be loads of girls on the beach today. wanna check some out? we can share if you want.”

as dino downed his shot, he stared back at his hyung with a grin. “don’t you remember what happened the last time we shared a girl? we had to take her to the hospital because she passed out!”

the group laughed, reminiscing the old memory. it wasn’t odd for them to share one-night stands. the boys were family, and they strongly believed in putting each other first.

the large number of giggles near you caught your attention. you and eunseok walked over to the boys, as she queried about their conversation.

“nothing much, it was just a last minute plan in prague… god we almost got arrested,” jihoon snickered, elbowing dino’s side. the youngest could only smirk, pouring himself another shot of soju.

questions flooded your mind as you stared at the man who had you in a chokehold. dino was clad in nothing but swim shorts, his taut muscles on full display for anyone to ogle over.

as the topic changed, your curiosity got the best of you. you staggered over to seungcheol, knowing that the boy would kill to gossip.

“oh hey y/n,” he greeted you with a tilt of his beer can, sunglasses perched upon his nose.

“hi,” you settled down next to him, your can of lemon soda forgotten as your lips quivered. “you look like you want to ask me something,” he chuckled, eyes scanning your face.

“you know me so well,” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs. “i can ask you anything right?”

“yeah, sure.”

“no repercussions?”

“no repercussions.”

with a sigh, you turned to face the leader as you took in a breath. “what happened in prague?”

seungcheol nearly choked on his drink, sputtering out flicks of the liquid as he stared at you with his eyes widened behind his shades.

“of everything you could have asked… why that?” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “come on,” you whined. “jihoon said it like it sounded so fun! i just wanna know!”

with a glance around to see if anyone was looking, the leader smiled and leaned in closer to you. “we swore we would never tell this to anyone but us… but you’re family too,” he began, voice merely above a whisper.

as seungcheol tattled on about the shenanigans that the idol group had been up to, you found yourself gasping. the wild story, the borderline illegality of it all— it was too much. you squeezed your thighs together when seungcheol skimmed past the details of the night they spent.

lee chan’s eyes followed the two of you, completely misinterpreting the situation. your shuffling thighs, masked giggles and wide eyes seemed like flirting to him as he clenched his jaw, downing his shot.

why were you making this so hard for him?

it was nearly 1 in the morning when you woke up in cold sweat.

your narrow room greeted you in a greyish hue, curtains pulled back to let the moonlight in. with a sigh, you resorted to calming down, taking deep breaths as you heard the waves crashing on shore. a slight buzzing noise filled your ears. it seemed to be coming from your door, but your mind could barely focus.

your dream had completely ruined your chances of sleep. a ticket to dreamland seemed impossible as seungcheol’s words floated in your head.

i’ve never seen dino go that feral on someone before… he was insatiable.

she squirted so hard when he was done, it was a huge mess. wonwoo’s glasses got drenched-

with a sigh, you take off your sleeping shorts and toss them to the side, fingers dipping down to your core.

your hole was slicked up, a sticky mess from your vivid imagination. your index finger prodded at your entrance, making you let out a sob.

your body was frustrated, in agony. you wanted to feel chan’s touch instead of your own hands, wanted to feel him buried inside you.

you let out another pained moan, pushing your first knuckle inside your fluttering walls. however, you fail to register the sounds you have been making, and that the buzzing from the outside had suddenly stopped.

you spread your legs wider, pumping your digits inside, letting out a hurt whimper. it would never be enough.

suddenly, the door to your shared bathroom opened with a slam, and a concerned chan appeared in your doorway. “are you okay—”

the sound of his voice egged you on further, hole gushing with a fresh serving of arousal. you all but sobbed at his direction, sex induced fog clouding your brain as your fingers fastened.

“chan,” you whimpered. in the doorway, with water drenched all over his face and a can of shaving cream in his hand, lee chan groaned at the sight in front him.

“help me…” you pleaded. “oh baby,” he growled, setting the can on the floor as he walked over to you. his hands parted your thighs even further, eyes examining the mess in between your legs.

with a sharp smack, he swatted your fingers away, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy.

morals be damned. soonyoung be damned.

“look at you,” his eyes stared into your hazed ones, a hand smacking your heat. the friction had your hips bucking.

“so soaked, hmm? what were you thinking of princess?” he bit his lip. “you… always thinking of you.”

“fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back to compose himself. “y/n,” he sighed, one of his hands cupping your face.

you leaned into his touch, lips jutted out in a pout. “tell me you want this, and it’s not just something you’d forget. tell me you want me, and i’m all yours.”

with a smile, you turn aside to place a kiss on his palm. “i’ve never wanted something more in my life, lee chan.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he flipped you over onto your stomach, slotting himself between your legs before he discarded his sweats on the floor.

“you have no idea how patient i have been,” he grunts, manhandling you to arch your back as your ass presses against his torso.

he dips his body down, face to face with your pussy. tantalizing, he licks a stripe up your folds, making your knees buckle on the mattress.

you try to look back to see him, but its impossible to move when his hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing his mouth back on you. dino’s chin brushes against your clit as he licks at your hole with a groan.

“so wet for me already, bet i could just slide in and you’d take it.”

you can only moan his name in return, clutching the bedsheets as he ate it from the back. his tongue fucks into your folds, lapping at the arousal that drips out of you in copious amounts.

“f-fuck channie! i’m—”

before you can finish, chan is moving away from your heat. the sudden lack of his mouth has you moaning and whining like a brat.

“easy doll, i don’t want you to cum on my face right now,” he pats your ass, flipping you over to your back as you finally get a view of him.

his slick covered face dips down to meet your lips. the kiss is searing and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands reach for his hair, pulling him impossibly close as you suck on his tongue. using your neediness as a distraction, he quickly angles his hips and pushes his tip past your folds.

“shit!” you cuss, gasping and pulling away. in the heat of the moment, you never actually registered how obnoxiously big chan’s cock was.

as you look down to where your bodies meet, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. his fat tip exerts an experimental thrust, and the sheer stretch of his head has you whining.

“shh baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat. “just breathe for me?”

you inhale slowly, allowing your tense body to relax and adjust to him. dino’s attempts at distracting you do not go futile as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples. the pain in your chest makes the ache between your legs lose all meaning.

steadily, he pushes himself inside you, inch by inch entering your welcoming walls that spasm around him. when he finally bottoms out, you feel him in your gut.

this was the fullest you had ever felt. chan’s mouth licks the sweat around your breast, savouring in the salty taste.

his arms rest on either side of your head, making you relish the view. when he finally looks up, you pull him in for a kiss.

its sloppy, and his teeth clash into yours, but you could not care less. your pussy clenches around him as you pull away, nodding feverishly. “chan… if you don’t fuck me right now, i might die— hah!”

one languid thrust into you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his metal chain dangles on your chin, the coolness contrasting the heat that squelches down there.

chan takes full advantage of his dancer body as he pistons his hips into you. the stretch has you reeling, nails clawing down his broad back as his body leans into you.

dino’s lips find the spot on your neck, licking and sucking till red and purple bloom on your skin. his matted hair sticks to his forehead, as you turn your head to the side— the visuals becoming too much for you to handle.

you’re met with his forearm in your sight, fingers tightly gripping the bedsheets.

without a second thought, you lean forward and bit his skin, making him groan out as his cock twitches inside you.

“fu- you’re killing me baby,” he smirked, licking his lips as he forces you to look at him.

the brute force of his thrusts has your body thrashing, legs shaking with pleasure.

“feels so good channie!” you hiccup, mind cloud. the only thing you could think of was lee chan and his oh so perfect dick that was ravaging your insides.

when chan looks down, his eyes roll to the back of his head. he could see the outline of himself in your stomach, prodding out with every thrust.

a creamy and frothy ring lined the base of his cock, a testament to how your greedy cunt was sucking him in. your warm walls squeezed hard around him when one of his hands dropped down to press the bulge on your stomach.

“feel me in there, don’t ya?” he babbled, hips faltering at your vicious grip. “y-yes!” you cried out, feeling your stomach contracting.

with a loud growl, chan’s lips rest upon yours. “you close baby? can feel your greedy little cunt crying f’me,” he mumbled, licking your bottom lip.

your pathetic nods made him remove his hand from your stomach and find your clit instead, circling the bud as you mewled.

“cum for me baby, show me how much you needed this cock in you,” his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling against yours.

“i’m cu— oh fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling your orgasm rip through your body. your pussy clamped down on him, gripping his length like a fleshlight.

dino moaned in your ear about how good you felt, thrusts turning sloppy as he pressed kisses on your earlobe.

he continued to move inside you, drawing out your orgasm as he chased after his. overstimulation had tears spilling from your eyes, clawing at his pecs as you sobbed. “ ‘s too much channie! hurts!”

“just a little more baby, clench round me like that aga— FUCK!” he lost himself in you, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him for all his worth as his orgasm washed over him.

in a desperate attempt, chan’s thrusts turned erratic as he pumped his load inside you. “s-so good,” he whimpered, hips stilling inside you as he softened. you groaned at the warmth, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

you both were panting, bodies entwined in a soft caress. time seemed to still when lee chan looked into your eyes again, smiling like a lovesick puppy when you kissed him.

your mouth whined pathetically when he pulled out, falling to your side as he sighed. wanting to be close to him, you shuffled near him.

your fingers dropped down to your pussy as you tried to plug his cum inside you, moaning at the sensation of being so incredibly full and warm.

“that was… the best sex i’ve ever had, sheesh,” dino wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close.

you brought your hand up to place on his sweaty chest, giggling as he kissed the top of your head. “better than prague?” you teased.

lee chan’s pecs tensed under your hold, as his eyes widened, staring at you in the dark. “what— who told you about that!” he exclaimed, ears dusted pink.

“seungcheol’s very easy to gossip with,” you winked, staring up at his pretty face. “wow… i can’t believe this hyung,” he grumbled, hearing you laugh.

“hey! this only happened because i was thinking about everything you did to that poor girl,” you smacked his muscle, hearing him wince. “why were you so feral that night, lee chan?” you voiced your question out loud.

he sucked in a breath as his grip tightened around your shoulder. “you really want to know?”

“i’m dying from curiosity,” you mused. with a sigh, chan turned his head to face you fully, meeting your eyes in the moonlight, before he whispered out an answer.

“she had the same name as you.”

© nachojaehyun, 2024

[augustinewrites]

Ooh shit I had the worlds worst thought— Megumi snapping at Fushigojo mom OF ALL PEOPLE in the heat of some kind or argument or bad day or something and blurting out “you’re not my mom” and then just AAAH IT WOULD BE SO SAD ALL FOUR OF THEM WOULD BE HEARTBROKEN AND MEGUMI WOULD BE SO UPSET WITH HIMSELF 😭😭😭🕳️🚶‍♀️

things have been difficult since tsumiki had fallen into a coma.

it's hard not to feel her absence at home. the empty seat at the dining table, the untouched laundry left folded in the hamper. somehow she's everywhere and nowhere, and it hurts.

you and satoru are heartbroken of course, but you can't begin to imagine how megumi feels.

at first he'd been quiet. megumi had always been quiet, but this was different. the two of you used to sit in comfortable silence, content to read quietly in each other's presence. now he shuffles to and from his bedroom barely uttering a word, silence hanging heavy as you try to coax him into staying.

then his grades had started slipping. you weren't awfully concerned. his teachers had been sympathetic enough to exempt him from final exams, and excuse any late or incomplete papers. despite his record of delinquency, he's always gotten high marks.

you could excuse these things. the silence, the grades. he's a little brother missing his big sister, and he's hurting.

but now he was starting to act out.

picking fights at school, talking back to faculty, giving attitude.

you startle where you stand in the kitchen when the front door suddenly slams shut, revealing a grumpy looking megumi. he kicks his shoes off, making a beeline for his room without stopping to greet you.

satoru holds a hand up before you can ask, walking over to the genkan to fix the sneakers.

"what now?" you ask, wiping your hands on your apron when your husband returns, kissing your forehead.

"suspended indefinitely for fighting," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "he has to write an apology letter to everyone involved, and the headmaster said that next is expulsion."

"he can't keep doing this," you frown. "one of us needs to talk to him."

satoru is quick to touch the tip of his nose. "not it."

you roll your eyes (like megumi would, is that where he got it?) "yeah, it's probably best that you don't. he'd bite your head off."

he leans back against the counter, relieved. "yeah, i'd just— wait. you're doing that reverse psychology stuff on me again!"

feigning cluelessness is easy. "what are you talking about?"

"when you tell me i shouldn't do something and it makes me want to prove myself!"

"not my fault you're an incredibly prideful man."

"and just this once, i'll actually admit that talking to moody teens is not one of my many skills," he says. "this is your territory. you're the only one he might listen to. you've always been his favourite."

deep down, you know that he's right. you're the first one megumi goes to for everything. the first one he comes to with a new bump or scrape. the one whose side of the bed he squeezes into when he has a nightmare. the first one he talks to when he has a fight with a friend, or his sister...

you learned pretty quickly that megumi hated when people fussed over him (it came with his lone wolf tendencies) but he always let you.

so you steel yourself with a deep breath before knocking on his bedroom door.

"megumi?" you call gently. "can i come in?"

you decide to take his muffled response as permission, twisting the knob and slowly pushing the door open.

megumi's sat on the floor with his back pressed against the bed and his knees drawn up to his chest.

you close the door behind you. "thank you for letting me in."

he hums, peeking at you over his knees.

you sit on the floor across from him, rubbing your palms against your thighs. "i know that whatever we're feeling can't compare to how bad you're hurting, but we're worried about you."

"i'm fine."

"you're not, and you can't keep acting out at school."

"okay, i'll stop," he shrugs.

you should stop here. but you know megumi. he's only saying it because he knows that's what you want to hear.

you reach out, gently grasping his hand. "megumi, please. you can't keep this all in anymore. you always talk to me—"

"i don't want to talk about it," he snaps, jerking away from your touch. "can you just leave me alone?"

you flinch a little, surprised by the slight raise in his voice. he's never yelled at you. never snapped at you like that.

you're pushing too much, you realize. he's not ready to talk yet, you have to apologize.

"megumi, i'm—"

"just— just stop!" he shouts, expression stormy. "stop fussing over me, you're not my mom!"

to his credit, megumi looks like he regrets the words immediately, lips already shooting off an apology you can't seem to hear.

it does nothing to soothe the way your chest aches, full of hurt and a touch of betrayal. those words shouldn't hurt you as much as they do. he's right, you're not his mother.

but you don't even get to utter a word before the door swings open, a pissed off looking satoru striding into the room. shit. so he had been listening. "listen here you little shit—"

you stagger to your feet, stepping between your boys. "satoru, don't. don't! he's just upset."

"he can't talk to you like that!"

"let it go," you plead. "fighting is the last thing the three of us should be doing right now, okay?"

the three of you stand there for what seems like a lifetime, letting all the pain, frustration, and heartache fill the quiet apartment.

satoru shoots one last stern look around you before drawing a deep breath and focusing on you. you do the same as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, thumb swiping a stray tear away.

"we're just gonna give you some space, megs."

_____

"he didn't mean it," you remind satoru again that night, when sleep seems to be avoiding the both of you.

"i know. he still hurt your feelings though."

"well, he was right. i'm not his mom."

your husband tuts softly, reaching across the mattress and pulling you into his chest. "so what if you didn't give birth to them? you're something better because you chose them. you chose to love them and raise them when you didn't have to."

"of course i had to. they wouldn't have lasted a week in your care."

"oh? now who's being a little shit? i see where megumi gets his attitude from."

foreheads pressed together, the two of you laugh quietly. you feel light for the first time in weeks. the man holding you close, the boy sulking in his room, and the girl laying in the hospital.

they're your family, and you know they'll always love you as much as you love them.

waking up in the middle of the night to megumi squishing between you both (and satoru actually letting him) is as good a sign as any.

[pepsiboyy]

CAPTURED LOVE.

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader summary: where matt tucks you in while on stream - little did he know the fans could see every part of it. warnings: none just fluff & established relationship, pet names (just sweetheart) !! a/n: requested !! <3

your breath was beginning to slow and your eyelids began to feel heavy.

you had been burrowed in matt's sheets scrolling through instagram for the last hour (you started on tiktok but matt threw a tantrum about copyrighted music).

"chris, please-" he pleaded, before a sigh of defeat left his lips. "dude, come on."

you chuckled as you heard chris screaming both through his headset, and from downstairs in his room.

they had been running fortnite for the last hour or so while matt streamed on twitch, his eyes occasionally shifting to glance at you and shoot you a soft smile.

the fanbase had been fully aware of the presence of yours and matt's blossoming relationship. it took a lot of considering, but after conversation between the two of you and his brothers, you decided to go public.

most of the fanbase took it well. of course there were going to be people who didn't support you two, but that didn't mean anything to the two of you.

"guys, give me one second," matt stated softly while he peeled his headset off of his head, gently nudging the camera to move it over.

your eyes shifted from your phone to your boyfriend approaching.

"you getting sleepy, sweetheart?" you cooed, kneeling down on the side of the bed to smile warmly at you.

"somethin' like that," you replied, a soft smile on your face as you felt his palm reach up to gently hold your cheek. his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, his blue eyes not once leaving yours.

you both sat there for a moment before he sat up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "get comfortable," he stated softly, walking around the bed to get you an extra blanket.

he returned a few minutes later and pulled the blanket over you, gently caressing your shoulder and upper arm. "comfy?" he asked softly, and you nodded with pink cheeks. "here," he gently grabbed his pug stuffed animal. "mr. wrinkleton will keep you company while i stream, is that okay?" he asked.

you couldn't help but smile widely at the gesture. "more than okay." you gently took mr. wrinkleton and pressed your lips to his nose with a soft kiss. "thanks for keepin' me company, lil guy." she smiled before she smiled at matt, who couldn't help but admire her and her every move.

matt gently tilted your chin up with his finger and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

you gently smiled against his lips.

"hellooo? matt, where the hell are you?"

matt gently pulled away and rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "chris is calling," he pulled the blanket back up to cover you before he made his way back to his desk and plopped down. "yeah yeah, i'm here." all you could really hear was chris's shouting on the other end, but you didn't mind.

"guys, come on." matt scoffed while reading the chat.

"not our fault you left your camera on and went to kiss your girlfriend," nick protested.

"dude, don't even say it like that." chris shouted in response, his tone one of disgust.

and with that, you somehow managed to fall asleep to the sound of your boyfriend's keyboard and mouse, along with the occasional battle cry in his fortnite endeavors.

the next day rolled around, and you and matt were in the living room while nick and chris sat in the kitchen.

matt had been scrolling through his phone before his cheeks turned into a pinker shade.

"what?" you asked, scoffing and turning his phone towards you to see.

an edit. of you and matt. last night.

"damn, they're quick with it, aren't they?" you smiled and leaned your head against matt's shoulder.

"dude, are you talking about the edits of you guys? yeah i might have to uninstall tiktok." chris spat, the corner of his lip raised in disgust.

"what? i think they're cute, and they can make whatever they want," nick started, before his expression fell, "as long as they don't come up on my page anymore."

you scoffed and waved your hand. "whatever."

the two left to go to nick's room, and matt turned to you with a soft smile. "the edit.. it's not that bad."

you raised an eyebrow. "yeah? you like the edits?"

matt shrugged and looked away. "i mean. it's got you in it."

"matthew," you smacked his shoulder and giggled softly before he wrapped his arm tightly around your shoulders. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and sighed with content.

"i love you." he sighed out with a soft smile.

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @lovesturni0l0s

[bucks-babe]

Change My Ways For You

Pairing: College!Fuckboy!Bucky x college!fem!reader

Summary: One of the only girls in school that didn’t want Bucky Barnes was somehow the one he fell in love with

Warnings: Smut, fluff, reader doesn’t take any of Bucky’s shit, himbo!Bucky, Bucky being a fuckboy,a bit of forced proximity, small part where Bucky is fucking someone else (ew), pinning, Bucky proving himself to be a sweet boy, non consentual kissing, Bucky being tooth rottingly sweet, Bucky calling reader sweets sweetheart and sweetcheeks, Steve is a dick (sorry not sorry), PROTECTED p in v (they are responsible in this one), fingering, fluffy smut, dirty talk, cockwarming?, so much praise, talk about STDs, delayed aftercare, talk about no aftercare, Bucky learns about aftercare so all is good

Word Count: 14.6k This is a long one

A/N: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading and helping with the direction; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This fic is the most adorable and full of emotions. The angst, the fluff, the feelings and especially Bucky. The way they act around one another — it’s absolutely great and definitely a read worth it!

“I have to admit, some of your grades in this class are less than I expected. Some of you have excelled in my class, but there are quite a few students to which their performance, to put it nicely, has been subpar.” A few students in the room look around, trying to see who looks guilty of having shit grades. You couldn’t care less; you know your grades are great so it’s not your problem if someone else is failing. 

All you want to do is get out of class and go back to your dorm to sleep, having stayed up way too late to finish a research paper for a different class. Your professor walks back over to his desk and leans back on it, sighing and taking off his glasses to wipe them on his sweater. 

“Now, while I understand that this course is not for the faint of heart, I still expect all of you to put in effort, and based on these,” he holds up the essays that were due last week, “I can tell that some of you just don’t care. Not even mentioning those of you who didn’t turn in your paper.”

You hear a scoff a few rows behind you and you know it’s Bucky Barnes without having to turn your head. He is the resident fuckboy, not caring about school or his education, just going to parties and fucking every living thing in sight. Sometimes you think that the only reason he is even in college is to have the “college experience” of “being free and having a bit of fun.” 

He’s never turned your head, rather just been a thorn in your side three times a week when you go to class, always joking with his friends next to him or talking about his latest trist. You don’t want to hear about how loud a random girl screamed when she came on his cock. You were here to get your degree and finally move out of this shitty town you were stuck in.

Honestly, you doubt that Bucky was even giving anyone orgasms. In your experience, men who brag about how good they were in bed were nothing but a disappointment, giving you about 30 seconds of mediocre sex until they came inside a condom and rolled over only to ask you, “did you cum?” The answer was always no. You didn’t have the patience to stroke any man’s ego when they couldn’t even make you wet. 

Bucky did nothing but make you roll your eyes, annoyed by the absolute gall of himself. “Now, because I don’t want my class average to go down because of a few dumbasses, I have sent some of you an email to meet me in my office after hours in which I will pair you up with another student in hopes that it will give you a kick in the ass since I cannot be bothered to spend more time teaching you.” You like your professor, you really do. He was one of the chillest professors you’ve had, but a twinge of fear goes through you. You fucking hope that he doesn’t pick you to help another student, especially Bucky.

You hang on to the sliver of hope that he won’t pick you. He knows that you’re busy, right? Between work and school you don’t have any time to tutor anyone. The topic stays on your mind long after you leave class, delaying looking at your email just in case he picked you to help another student. 

As the hours went by, however, you knew that you had to check it. You cursed when your laptop had battery; if it didn’t, it would have given you an excuse to not show up if you were picked. Nonetheless, you opened your school email, only to find out that you had been picked and you needed to go down to your professors office in a half hour.

Getting dressed, you had the most intense scowl on your face. This was the last thing you needed added onto your plate. You only hoped that he would pair you up with someone who didn’t need that much help, but you were proven wrong when you walked in only to find Bucky sitting down looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Take a seat, please.” You huff and sit down, moving your body away from Bucky as much as you could. You didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’s never done anything to you per say, but you’ve seen his shameless flirting and it makes you uneasy and never want to be on the receiving end of it.

You don’t pay attention to anything your professor says, something about helping Bucky over the next few months until he’s passing or fails out of the course. You’re too lost in thought to care. On top of everything you have going on, now you have to help the one person you can’t stand.

Your professor dismisses the both of you with instructions to meet at least twice a week to study together. Bucky walks out before you and you assume that he has sprinted away to go to another party given that it was late afternoon, but you find him right outside the door. 

“So, sweetcheeks, I guess you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me now.” His eyes run up and down your body, like this was the first time he’s seen you. It makes you shift and wrap your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself. Bucky clearly takes this the wrong way and thinks that you like his hungry eyes and steps closer to you. “How about I give you my number and we can meet up, ya know, to study? Or if you ever need something, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You don’t want to give him your phone, thinking about where his hands have been. Ever since his step closer to you, you can smell the scent of sex on him. If you look closer at his beard you can see the glisten on it, most likely from some girl he ate out right before he came to the meeting. 

“Just tell me your number, James so we can get this over with. I don’t want to help you and you don’t want my help. Clearly you don’t give a shit about this class and you only want to get in my pants.” He raises his eyebrows at your tone, a little shocked that you spoke to him like that. Before he opens his mouth you continue, “I mean, look at you. You’re flirting with me when I can fucking see that someone’s pussy was on your face, and that makes you think that I want to have sex with you?”

He opens his mouth one more time but you aren’t finished, finally able to snap at him for all the times he’s pissed you off. “I’m not going to be one of the girls you add to your roster so you can get that idea out of your head right now. The only time I am going to interact with you is when I have to, okay? Now give me your number so I can go back to my dorm and fucking sleep.”

Bucky is shocked, not having anyone talk to him like that. It pisses him off that you rejected him. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he has time to change your mind. He can’t lie, your sass was making his pants tighter, but he relents and gives you his number before you walk away while he watches your ass, palming his dick through his pants. 

He needs to relieve the pressure in his groin and he’s sure as hell you’re not going to help him and his hand is nowhere near good as a pussy, so he goes out to Steve’s party, knowing that he can get a girl in minutes.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock. Shit, love that ass too, you gonna let me fuck it? Yeah, I bet you fucking would too.” Bucky doesn’t know how the two of them ended up in the bathroom, fucking each other’s brains out, but he’s not complaining. When she offered to get on her knees and suck his cock he pulled her into the nearest room, cumming on her face before pushing her into the mirror, smearing her makeup and his cum all over the mirror.

The slam of his hips was brutal, surely going to leave bruises on her hips but he didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t complaining, he would do whatever he wanted with her, fucking her like she was a slut. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me fucking cum. Pussy is so fucking tight.” He lets a groan out, close to cumming. 

 Usually he didn’t make much noise during sex other than dirty talk, only breathing heavily and groaning when he was about to cum, but he was always composed. Sex felt great, but he never felt the need to moan. He never understood why men would moan like a slut just over some pussy, and he doubted that he would ever embarrass himself like that during sex.

“Love the way that ass bounces, so fucking hot.” This was the way Bucky fucked - from behind watching the girl’s ass jiggle. He wasn’t one to fuck any other way. Bucky didn’t give a shit to watch her face or look into her eyes, he just wanted to cum as fast as possible so he could move on with the rest of his day. He thought missionary was quite possibly the most boring position ever created, not like he ever made it to a bed anyway.

“Shit, gonna take my cum, bitch? Yeah, you fucking are, just a little fucking cumdump for me, letting me fuck you in a dirty bathroom, too horny for my fat cock.” He was babbling, just wanting to cum so he could go back out to the party and have another drink, maybe even pick another girl up for later.

Bucky lets out a low groan, filling up the condom with his cum. Once his orgasm is finished, he pulls out, taking the rubber off and throwing it away. Pulling his pants back up, the girl turns around, clearly affronted. “I didn’t even cum, baby.” Her voice was high and annoying, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

“Sorry, but your pussy made me bust early.” He chuckles knowing damn well that it was a lie. He just couldn’t be bothered to make her cum. Why would he put in the extra work to make her cum when he was just having fun? If she wanted to cum so bad she could have handled it herself. He wasn’t stopping her from using her own hands. Bucky either ate a girl out until she came to get her nice and wet if he was feeling generous that day or left her to her own devices while he took his own pleasure from her body.

She blushes, “oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” Bucky just wants to get the fuck back to the party and she’s talking too fucking much. “Maybe we can do this again.”

He can hear how hopeful she is and he felt just a little bit bad so he decided to humor her. “Sure, Sherry, whenever I’m free. You know college life and all, working hard in classes every day. Gotta keep up that 4.0 GPA.” As he heads for the door, he hears her squeak out, It’s Sally!

The next day is when you’re supposed to meet Bucky in the library to study, but it’s been a half hour and he still hasn’t shown. You decide to study what you need to. If Bucky wanted to fail you weren’t going to go out of your way to help him. You weren’t his mother; he was a grown man and he was responsible for himself. 

Nearly an hour later, Bucky stumbles in, clearly reaping the effects of the alcohol binge he must have been on the night before. It was no wonder  why he was failing his classes. When he sees you, a smile graces his lips, trying to make you forget that he was more than fashionably late. “Heeyyyy, sweetcheeks. You been waitin’ on me long?” The closer he gets the more you can smell the musk of sex and alcohol.

“James, are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” You know he is and you fight the urge to turn your nose up at the offensive smell coming off him.

“Huh? Oh, shit, I am. Well would ya’ look at that?” He laughs before plopping down in the seat next to you, his smell even worse than before. He tries to give you what you assume is a sexy look, but he just looks like he just awoke out of a coma. “How about you help me change them then, sweetcheeks? Maybe even give me a good scrub, make sure I’m real clean? Oh, and sweets, call me Bucky since we’re gonna get real close.”

There is no way that he is trying to have sex with you when his stink is filling up the entire section of the library. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You were here to help him and he is taking this whole thing like a joke. “I don’t have time for this, James. Unlike you, I actually care about my grades and don’t think with what’s in my pants.”

As you go to walk away, Bucky tries to grab your wrist, wanting to mess with you some more, but his motor skills haven’t come back yet and he was too slow. “C’mon, sweetheart, I was just messin’ with ya’, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bucky holds his tongue about wanting to sniff your panties, not wanting to antagonize you further, but you just keep storming away and soon enough you’re out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky huffs, annoyed that you walked away from him. Not because he actually wanted to talk to you, no of course not, it’s because no one has ever walked away from him. He walks away from girls after he fucked them, not the other way around. Grabbing his shirt, he lifts it up to smell it, turning his head away when the stench hits him. “Damn, no wonder she fucking sprinted away from you, Barnes.” Bucky stands up, almost falling over when gets lightheaded, the effect of drinking all night with no food catching up to him.

He slowly makes his way back to his dorm to shower and get out of his grimy clothes, feeling it stick to his skin in the worst way possible. He realizes that he only gave you his number and you didn’t give him yours so he has no way of texting you to see when your next session is. Maybe he would have made it on time if you texted him. It wasn’t his fault he was late. Honestly, you should have reminded him since you are supposed to be helping him.

The next day Bucky sees you in class and luckily he doesn’t reek this time. Instead of sitting in his usual seat, he goes down a few rows and plops down next to you. “So, sweetheart, I don’t mean to question your teaching methods, but seems to me like you’re a pretty lackluster teacher, runnin’ out on me like that.” You slowly turn your head, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man. How dare he say anything about you when he showed an hour  late and proceeded to ogle you like a piece of meat?

“Excuse me? You wanna say that again, James? Because I don’t think I heard you right, because you better not have just said that I’m the problem.”

“I was just teasin’ ya, sweets. But if this is gonna work ya gotta help me a little bit. I mean, you’re the teacher and all.” You wanted to slap that smug smirk right off of his face.

“If this is going to work, James, then you need to try. I’m not going to pull my weight and yours so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ll be in the library at 4:30. If you’re so much as a minute late, I’ll tell the professor to get someone else to deal with you.” With that you got up and changed your seat, not wanting to be around him for another second. 

Bucky felt his pants tighten again. He really needs to do something about your attitude, like fuck it out of you. It wasn’t a lie that he found you attractive and the thought of bending you over your desk and watching your ass bounce made his cock even harder. Bucky was contemplating asking the girl next to him for a handjob but the thought of her hands around his cock didn’t seem as good as what he thought your hands would feel like.

So instead of that, Bucky moved his seat to the back of the room so he could jerk off. A man has needs after all and Bucky has never had to worry about someone taking care of his boners until now.

Bucky decides not to push his luck and he actually shows up to the library on time, sans all of his books, but at least he’s there. He sees you in the corner, hunched over your laptop, typing away. You look cute too, with your tongue slightly passed your lips in concentration and eyebrows pulled together. Reading glasses perched on your nose. His sweetheart was working hard. What the fuck, Barnes? Bucky is taken aback by his own thoughts. He has never looked at a girl like that, when none of his thoughts are about how many different ways he could fuck them.

You roll your eyes when you see that Bucky didn’t bring anything with him, just the air of arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. “Would ya’ look at the time, sweets? I’m early. See I happen to take my education very seriously.” You swear, if you roll your eyes anymore because of this man, they’re going to be stuck in the back of your skull. 

“Yeah, yeah. What did the professor say you needed to work on?” You want to get straight to business. The faster you get this done the faster you can leave.

“Uh, well. I don’t exactly know what.” He tries to smile to soften the blow of his incompetence as he sits next to you, but you are almost vibrating in anger at how useless he is.

Huffing, you angrily click at your laptop, going to check the email your professor gave you, knowing that Bucky couldn’t be trusted to remember. “James, please tell me how your grade is a 13% and you’re still in college?” You had no idea that someone could have a grade that low and not be kicked out of the entire course.

“What! No way, let me see that.” You slide the laptop over to him, showing the proof of his negligence. “Well, damn, we have a lotta work to do then, sweetcheeks.” You ignore his comment and pull up his most recent essay, surprised that he turned it in at all, but not shocked to see how terribly he did.

“James, what did you even think this essay was about?”

“Uh, nature and care?” Your mouth drops open and you just stare at him for a minute, making him squirm under your gaze.

“James, this was an essay on Frankenstein, and you were supposed to analyze the difference between nature versus nurture. You wrote about the fucking trees!”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the problem with his essay. “Yeah, that’s nature!”

“No, James. Nature as in how you are, like how you were born, not how you were raised. You were supposed to compare how Victor was nurtured all his life but was full of hate and spite, but the creature never had any care but he was benevolent until everyone who encountered him abhorred him!”

You were talking too fast and Bucky didn’t understand a word of what you said. You were using words that he had never heard of before. “So, you can fix it, right, sweets?” That same sly smile was on his lips. The look on your face was enough to make him backtrack. “Uh, so we can fix this right? You know, since we’re a team now.”

The resting bitch face you gave him had him shifting his eyes around the library, trying to avoid it. As soon as he did, however, he regretted his decision when his party hook up locked eyes with him. His eyes immediately went to your laptop, typing random words onto the document you pulled up, trying to seem busy.

“So, sweetcheeks, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. So Victor is a bitch and Frankenstein is cool.” The sound of your voice correcting him by calling the creature Frankenstein is drowned out by the shrill voice of his past trist.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you since that party. See you're working hard, keeping up that 4.0 I see.” She lets out a giggle and strokes his bicep. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about his supposed GPA. You’re taking great pleasure in watching Bucky squirm, clearly not wanting anything to do with her now that he’s gotten his rocks off. 

“And who is this? I bet my smart baby is helping her study, right? That’s so sweet of you to help out, really. Not everyone would want to help the ugly girl.” You wheeled your head back, about to bite her head off for daring to say shit about your looks when the foundation on her face was three shades lighter than her chest that was almost spilling out of her way too small top. Now you were never one to judge, but if someone comes for your looks, you come right back at them.

Before you got the chance to tear her a new one, Bucky interjected. “Ya’ know me, always helping out where I can, even those less fortunate than me.” His eyes were glued to her chest and you doubted that he even knew what she said to begin with. “Listen, Sandy, how about we catch up after I’m done and I can help you out too?”

The “sexy” look on her face dropped. “My name’s Sally, nevermind, you can have the ugly bitch!” Bucky cringes slightly at getting her name wrong again; he was never good with those. You don’t know why you were involved with their lovers quarrel, but a twinge of hurt sprouts in your heart. You didn’t even do anything to her and she had to come at you for your looks, and Bucky didn’t say a fucking word.

Grabbing your things, you pack them with more force than necessary, but you don’t give a fuck. “Sweetheart, where are ya’ going? Don’t listen to her, she’s just a bit jealous that I’m with ya’.”

How does he not see what he did wrong? You just glare at him before turning on your heels and walking away. There is no way that you’re going to spend anymore time or energy on him when he isn’t going to try. If it was anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t be so hurt, but for just one second you thought that Bucky wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

“Sweets, c’mon, we still have that essay to write.” Was this man really following you down the hall? Yes, yes he was. 

You spin around, eyes ablaze just to walk back up to him and push his chest. “You have an essay to write because I. Am. Done. You don’t give a fuck about this and I refuse to put myself through this for nothing.”

“What did I even do?” Now you were shaking with anger.

“What did you do? You haven’t tried at all, showing up late, trying to get me to fuck you, and worst of all, you let someone talk about me like that right in front of you and didn’t say a fucking word. You know, for a second there I thought you might be a nice guy, but you proved me the fuck wrong.”

Bucky had the nerve to look angry at what you said. Pushing you against the wall, he stares into your eyes. “Sweets, you’re really starting to piss me off. I’m fucking trying and it’s not good enough for ya’. I ought to fuck that attitude right outta ya’.” His eyes drop down to your lips and you’re too stunned to speak, not expecting him to push you up against a wall. 

He was starting to scare you, getting into your space like this, but before you could tell him to back off his lips smashed against yours. It was rough and fast. Your lips stayed still but your eyes were wide open, shocked at what he was doing. You tried to push his chest, but he only got closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, one hand dropping to your ass.

You struggled to free one of your hands, but as soon as you did you slapped Bucky in the face as hard as you could given your angle. He pulls back, shock on his face at the fact that you hit him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing! What made you think that I wanted to kiss you, asshole!” You try to wipe your lips, wanting to get the memory of his lips against yours off.

Bucky just stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn’t know what came over him. You shook your head and practically ran away to your dorm so you could shower and wash his touch off of you. The next day you were glad you didn’t have class with Bucky, but the remains of his kiss were still lingering. You didn’t even want to help him to begin with and this is how it ends up? With him forcing you to kiss him.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, just wanting to forget the whole thing. But you couldn’t avoid Bucky for long since you did have to share a class together. He tried to come up to you, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye and switched seats before he could reach you. The entire hour and a half lecture was spent making sure Bucky wasn’t making his way any closer to you.

Instead of rushing out when class was over, you made your way down to your professors desk. “Professor, could I talk to you in your office for a minute? It’s important.” He might be relaxed most of the time, but your professor always made sure everyone in his class felt like they could talk to him if needed. 

Nodding his head, he leads you to his office and closes the door behind you, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bucky looking like a kicked puppy. He knew what you were about to talk about in that office, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on. You’ve seemed off the past couple of lessons and I’m starting to get worried.”

You gulped, not knowing why it was so hard to say that you don’t want to tutor Bucky anymore. You didn’t want to let your professor down. Maybe it was because he reminded you of a father that you never had, but you just wanted to make him proud, showing him that you were capable of what he entrusted to you. He was looking at you, waiting to listen.

“Um, well, I have been distracted, but I think that it would be best for James to-” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence when you look at your professor. He trusted you to help Bucky and you can’t throw his trust away. “I think it would be best for James to have a more structured plan and I wanted to discuss that with you.”

The pride in his eyes was undeniable and you forgot about all the shit Bucky has put you through over the last few days. “Of course, what did you have in mind?” When you get out of his office, Bucky is still waiting, most likely missing the next party one of his friends is having.

You don’t even look at him, only grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him with you all the way down to the library. “Sweets, listen, I didn’t mean to make ya’ feel-” Turning around, you cut him off and he stumbles to a stop.

“No, I don’t want to hear it, James. You listen to me. We will meet in this library every other day at this exact time and you will keep your mouth shut and work. Do you hear me?” Bucky feels his pants tighten, but doesn’t say a word about it, slightly scared to talk back to you. 

He just nods his head, finally noticing how beautiful you were. How your eyes held so much emotion in them, even when you didn't let it show on your face. Or how your lips form a small frown, the sides pulling down giving you an adorable pout. The small belmishes on your face, the tiny imperfections, created the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“A nod is not an answer, James. Use your words.” Bucky swears that he could have cum in his pants at that exact moment. No woman has ever been so dominant with him in or out of the bedroom. 

He gulps before finding his voice again, hoarse but still working. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let ya’ down again. I swear.” You stare into his eyes for a few seconds longer, determining if you believed him or not, giving Bucky more time to appreciate every part of your face he didn’t notice before.

You let go of his shirt and keep walking and Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, eyes downcast to your ass but not being able to see much with your hoodie going down past it. Instead of going to the corner of the library you were at last time, you walk to one of the private study rooms. “Sit and get your shit out.”

Bucky wastes no time following your direction, loving how brazen you were. You sit down next to him, giving him the opportunity to smell your perfume, the light scent intoxicating. “So, teach, what are we working on first?” His eyes are bright and attentive, taking in your facial expressions. He’s trying to butter you up, make you less angry at him.

“We have to fix your atrocious essay. It’s worth the most amount of points so hopefully it will bring your grade up.” You root through his binder, nothing organized at all. When you find it and pull it out you sigh, not knowing where to even start. “Okay, first things first, you need to at least understand what this is about.”

You explain everything to him, stopping to see if he is still following along, surprised to see him paying attention, going so far as to interrupt every so often to ask questions. For the first time since he got to college, Bucky is trying. The two of you sit there for a few hours, going over the essay line by line, fixing his mistakes. To your surprise, his grammar wasn’t too bad. At least he had something going for him.

The next few lessons go by the same way, Bucky working hard to not piss you off, but also to improve his grades. There were no flirty comments, no complaining about you being bossy. He was falling for you, something that Bucky never thought would happen to him.

He didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was that day you told him off, grabbing his shirt and putting him in his place. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. You were so beautiful and smart. God you were smart. It amazed him how easy it was for you to explain the assignments to him. 

Bucky stopped going to parties, too. For once he didn’t find interest in getting shitfaced drunk and sticking his dick in a random girl; although it was giving him his first ever case of blue balls, it just felt wrong to have sex with another girl. He tried once at the last party he went to before he decided to stop going, but her hand on his cock didn’t make him pulse with need. Bucky ended up faking a phone call, saying that his friend was in the hospital and he needed to go see him.

As the weeks pass, Bucky can tell you’re getting soft on him, especially when you called him Bucky for the first time.

 “C’mon, sweets, it can’t be that bad helpin’ me out.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered on his face. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, James because from where I stand, I’m losing IQ points by the minute with you.” You still try to sass him but Bucky can tell you’re fighting off a smile. The two of you talk like actual friends now - no more jabs at his promiscuity and no more ogling.

“Ah, I think it’s the other way around. I can feel myself gettin’ smarter with ya’.” Bucky puts his head on the table in front of you, moving so he could look at your face. His eyes glisten, showing the sweet man hidden underneath his tough exterior.

“Oh, give me a break, Bucky, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do all the work for you.” You smile, looking down at him with the same adoration he’s giving you. His name leaving your lips felt right, smooth and sweet.

Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting his name to sound so damn good coming from you. He doesn’t say anything in fear of you going back to calling him James. Now that you’ve called him Bucky, he never wants to hear his first name come out of your mouth again. He wants to be your Bucky.

You can’t deny the feelings you’ve developed for Bucky. The man charming his way into your heart, but you know you can’t act on them. You doubt that Bucky has ever been in a serious relationship, only going for one night stands. Even though you’ve seen first hand how sweet of a man he can be, you still aren’t convinced that he would be interested in dating.

But Bucky doesn’t share the same sentiment. Today is the day he’s going to ask you on a date, hoping that you’ll say yes and give him a chance to prove himself to you, prove that he can be the man you deserve. Like always, you’re in the library before him, already set up and waiting. When you see him walking over you wave, the same gorgeous smile he fell for gracing your lips. 

You could tell that he was nervous, stuttering and not meeting your eyes. “Bucky, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me that you forgot to turn in the essay that we’ve been working on.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly at you. “No, sweets, I remembered to turn it in. I, uh, well, ya’ know. I got a question for ya’.” Mentally slapping himself in the face, Bucky blushed.

Staring at him suspiciously, you pushed your laptop away, giving him your full attention. “Well, sweets, you’ve been so good to me over these past few weeks. Really turned me around. I didn’t think that I would be able to do all this college shit, you know?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted you to answer. “You made me change my ways. I don’t want to go to parties and get blackout drunk anymore. To be honest, I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath while you gaze at him with a blank expression on your face, making him even more nervous than before. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, s’long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

You cut off his rambling, afraid of where he is going. “Bucky, what are you trying to say to me?” You know what he is trying to say, but you don’t know how to react to it. It’s not like you haven’t imagined what it would be like to go out with him, but that’s just not the man he is.

“I’m tryin’ to be romantic right now, sweets.” He lets out a little giggle, playing with his hands to try to calm himself down. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?” Bucky feels his heart drop when you only stare at him, not even blinking. His knee starts to bounce, the anticipation becoming too much for him.

You sigh, thinking about what to say to him. The two of you have a good friendship, one that you never thought you would have, but starting a relationship with him is terrifying. “Bucky, listen.” Just from the way you started your sentence, Bucky regrets saying anything. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I really do, but I can’t deny that your past scares me.”

“What do you mean, sweets?” For a man so observant, he can be a little dumb.

“You don’t do relationships, Bucky. You’re used to no strings attached and dating includes a lot of strings.” Bucky clenches his jaw, of course his past would come back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t want no strings attached anymore. I want to be with you and only you.” You close your eyes, putting your head down slightly. You want to believe him, you really do, but you don’t want to get your heart broken. Gently, Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, moving you to face him. “Let me prove myself to you, sweets, just give me a chance and if I blow it I give you full permission to kick my ass.”

That brings a small smile to your lips, but you’re still not convinced. “What if you get bored of me? Being with the same person over and over again?” Bucky’s heart aches at your words, not used to seeing you unsure of yourself. How could he ever get tired of you? He knows that he is the one who caused your insecurities. If he didn’t sleep around as much as he did, then you wouldn’t worry about his loyalty.

“Sweetheart, ever since you put me in my place, I haven’t touched another woman, can’t even think about someone who isn’t you touchin’ me. Just one chance is all I’m askin’ and I promise that I will show you how much I care.”

Closing your eyes, you lean into his warm palm, letting yourself feel him. His eyes hold so much vulnerability and you feel yourself losing the ability to say no to him. “Just one chance, Barnes. And if you hurt me I swear to God.” You’ve never seen Bucky smile so wide, pure joy adorning his face. 

The smile never left his face, only growing wider. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweets. What about you come over to my dorm and we can have a movie night? Maybe you could even stay over?” He looks sheepish, worried you’ll turn him down. At the quirk of your brow he rushes to explain himself. “Not like that! Just to hang out.”

You head back to your dorm to get a change of clothes while Bucky waits outside so he could walk with you back to his. As soon as you walk out, he is rushing to grab your bag from you, insisting that he carries it. “Bucky, I can carry my own bag, you know. I’m capable of that much.” He loves your little attitude, never accepting his help.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder, Bucky leads you away, not giving you your bag back. His dorm is just what you expect from a college frat boy: trash can overflowing, clothes on the floor, food left out, bed a complete mess. Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky shyly looks at you. You decide to only give him a little bit of grief for the mess. “Am I allowed on the bed or have you fucked someone here?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, frantically shaking his head. “No, never brought anyone back to my dorm.” Toeing your shoes off, you ask him where the bathroom is, changing your clothes before you flop onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the fluffy mattress. For a minute, Bucky feels his brain malfunction. The sight of you in his bed is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He would give his left arm to have you naked right now, his cock buried deep inside you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, moaning when he rubs little circles on your clit.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna put on a movie, loverboy?” Shaking his head, Bucky nods and heads over to grab his laptop before climbing into bed, leaving space in between the two of you in case you didn’t want to be too close. “I didn’t know that hanging off the side of the bed was your style, but if you want to leave me to freeze feel free to do so.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around you, this whole dating thing is uncharted territory for him. He just moves over, your thigh pressed to his. Bucky had to will his cock to not get hard, the softness of your body was making it hard to think straight. The fact that he’s only jerked off for the past month isn’t helping either.

You move to get more comfortable, which so happens to include you snuggling into his side, curling your arms around his bicep. Bucky has no clue what the movie is about, the image of all the things he wants to do to you in this bed are too much for him. He doesn’t know what the feeling passing over him is. He likes this. He likes the feeling of your body pressed to his. Not in a sexual way, although he wouldn’t mind that either, but in a completely innocent way. Bucky never stayed around after he came, always getting dressed and leaving. He’s never had a woman press their body against his just to find comfort.

Somehow, Bucky is following along with the plot of the movie, but he knows that it was just because of how you interacted with all the characters like they could hear you. Bucky would usually hate that, he hates when people talk through movies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. If anything, he was glad that you kept talking, giving him the opportunity to hear your voice.

Halfway through the movie you stop talking. When Bucky looks down he sees that you fell asleep on his chest. Of course at that moment Bucky’s bladder decided that he needed to pee urgently. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, focusing on the part of your mouth and the bit of drool leaking from it. But try as he might, he needed to use the bathroom. 

He tried to maneuver you to not disturb your sleep but you woke up as soon as he moved. “Where you going?” Shit, he’s going to have to pee with a boner because your sleepy voice sent blood right to his cock. 

“Just gotta take a leak, be right back.” You just snuggle deeper into the pillows, humming in understandment. Bucky has to put one hand on the wall in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet at an awkward angle trying to push his erection down with his other hand so he could pee. It took a bit of work, but he was able to go without making a mess. Now, Bucky might be a lot of things, but unhygienic isn’t one of them and before he goes back to bed he washes his hands.

Once he walks back into the room he sees that you’re more awake than before but still laying in bed. He hits the lightswitch on his way over and turns on the lamp, letting the soft glow illuminate your features. “What took you so long? Almost fell back asleep.”

Before he could answer, you wrap your body around his and feel his hard cock through his sweats. Pulling away slightly, your face gets hot. That’s why he took so long. “Shit, sweets, I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you were in my bed, and you look so gorgeous. Not that I’m expecting anything! But the image of you is fucking hot. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your giggle catches him by surprise. “It’s okay, Bucky. Can’t imagine going from having sex all the time to being abstinent for a month.” With the soft glow of the lamp, you see Bucky’s blush. “Just don’t think I’m going to fix it for you though.” He shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pulling you back into him, keeping his pelvis away from yours even though his dick was begging for release.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, but his hand moves to your waist, resting over your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles before he trails his hand up to your ribs and you can feel the heat of his palm through your shirt. For a few minutes he keeps his hand there, feeling your heartbeat, all the while moving his face closer.

He can feel your heartbeat pick up the closer he gets. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and inviting. You’ve never been this close to his face, seeing all of his freckles up close. You don’t want him to pull away, not when your whole body is thrumming with need. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Bucky could be this gentle.

He moves his hand up to your arm, delicately trailing his fingertips up and down, giving you goosebumps. Bucky is waiting for you to make the first move this time. The first time he kissed you was crass and unwarranted. The little gasp that leaves your lips when his palm rests on your cheek makes his cock jump.

Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in first. His plump lips meet yours and you moan into his mouth, not expecting his lips to be so soft and warm. You move your hands to his chest, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel his whole body pressed to yours. You ignore the erection pressed against your stomach, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Bucky frees his other hand from under him and wraps it around your waist, pulling you on top of him. The pressure of his hand caused you to arch your back, gasping when your core meets his hard dick. Bucky doesn’t waste the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste. He has to use every bit of self control in his body not to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t have to because you grind down onto him, searching for friction. The harder you kiss him, the more his will slips from him and he was the first to break the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting you to him.

Both of you gasp for breath, having deprived yourselves of oxygen for too long. “Why’d you stop?” God, you were perfect. Eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen lips - Bucky knew that he wanted to keep you like this all the time, having you look at him like that was addicting and he was already hooked.

“If we keep going I won’t be able to control myself and I told you that I’m going to prove to you that I’m in this. That I don’t want you just for sex. I’m going to treat you right, make sure you know how much I care first.” You have to bite your lip to stop the moan leaving you. That was the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. The fact that Bucky, the resident fuckboy, is denying sex because he wants to show you what you mean to him first has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You can’t think of words to convey how much that means to you, so you just slam your lips against his, kissing him with as much passion as you possibly could. Bucky has to use every morsel of restraint to move you off of him. “Sweets, you’re going to kill me with this.” The giggle you let out makes leaving his throbbing dick alone worth it, but you take pity on him and ask if he wants to go to the bathroom to fix his issue.

At first he declines, but he eventually caves and goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and handles his business. You scroll on your phone for a bit but you’re surprised when he comes back so fast. “Loverboy, this better not be a sign that you don’t last in bed, because when we do have sex, I want you to fuck me properly.”

As he flops back down on the bed, he groans. When, you said when, not if, when. “Sweets, if I hadn’t just came my dick would be rock hard again. You can’t say shit like that to me.” He rolls over, stradling you. “And sweets, I promise you, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name.”

You just raise your eyebrows, choosing to tease him a bit. “Well, based on the time you spent touching yourself, I’m not convinced. Hope your reputation hasn’t gone to your head because I’ll be honest if you can’t fuck me right.”

Bucky squints his eyes at you before leaning down, like he was going to kiss you again, but at the last moment, he pulls back and tickles your sides. Your laughter is easily one of his favorite sounds. “Bucky! Stop or else I’ll never have sex with you.” That makes him pause, even though he knew it was an empty threat and lays back down next to you.

“Okay, okay, sweets, I’ll leave you be. But I wouldn’t be opposed to you tickling me.” 

“What, is this a kink that you have, being tickled?” He scrunches his nose while he laughs, knowing what he was going to say next.

“No, but I would love it if you would tickle my pickle.” He smirks like it was the best joke ever told, proud of himself. You groan and turn away from him so he can’t see your smile. “C’mon, sweets, that was a good one.”

If you turn around you know you’ll see his puppy dog eyes. “Buck, that was the worst joke in the history of jokes.” 

“Ah, ah, I can hear your smile. You loved it.” You don’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you liked his joke. It’s silent for a moment and you are about to turn back around but Bucky talks before you can. “Do you mind if we spoon? I mean, you don’t have to stay overnight, but if you want to, ya’ know.”

“Well, it is pretty cold outside, and I would hate to have to walk all the way back. And who knows, I could freeze to death at my dorm. Better be safe than sorry.” Bucky knows what you're doing and plays along.

“Of course, sweets, can’t have my girl freeze. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep my girl warm.” You skooch back, pressing against his chest and his arms circle your waist, chin resting on your head. “Night, sweets, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Only if I don’t run away, loverboy.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles before leaning back to turn the lamp off, falling asleep with your soft body pressed to his.

Over the next few months, Bucky proves himself to be the perfect boyfriend, always asking you how your day was, remembering all the little things about you, kissing you and holding your hand around campus, not giving a single fuck who saw the two of you. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was whipped.

“Buck, c’mon, this is the best fucking party of the year, you have to go. It’s gonna be packed with girls in slutty costumes, Halloween man, everyone wants to fuck everyone.” Bucky only rolls his eyes at Steve.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, parties aren’t for me anymore. Hangovers suck dick and I have better things to do in my free time.” Steve doesn’t seem to understand how much Bucky loved you. He’s never said it, at least not yet. 

“Like what, hanging out with the nerd who hasn’t put out in three months? C’mon, I know you want some pussy and it’s gonna be on a fucking platter tonight.” Bucky sees red, not giving a shit that Steve is his best friend. No one talks about his girl like that, no one.

“Steve, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you fucking know how much I care about her. If I ever hear you call her that shit again, I’ll put you in the fucking hospital. I couldn’t give less of a shit about how long I have to wait for her to know that I don’t just want a pussy to fuck, not anymore. I’m done with the parties and the random girls, okay. So get that through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer, storming out of Steve’s dorm and walking away, not even caring where he was headed. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he stands outside of your door, raising his hand to knock. You always answer the door for him and this time is no different.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You were so tuned into him, reading him like a book. Without waiting you pull him into your dorm, shutting and locking the door behind him, leading him to your bed. His jaw was clenched, eyes set. If he was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

“Fucking Steve.” He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable in your bed, you following right after. You would go anywhere he goes.

Cuddling up to him, you pull him into you and his muscles relax at your touch, body responding to yours without thought. “What about Steve? You two get into a fight?” You never really liked Steve, but he was Bucky’s friend and you would listen to whatever he had to say about Steve. He was just like Bucky was before he met you.

“Being a fucking asshole. You wanna know what he said to me?” Bucky doesn’t wait for you to answer, only turning his head to see you better before continuing. “Wanted me to go to the Halloween party tonight, talking about all the girls that want to fuck as if he doesn’t know that I’m with you.” That doesn’t seem as bad as you thought, thinking that they got into a fist fight. It doesn’t surprise you that Steve was still trying to convince Bucky to go back to his playboy ways.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “He had the fucking nerve to say that I should go because we haven’t had sex yet, like I give a shit about that. Fucking disrespected you right to my face.” You couldn’t deny that you were turned on by the fact that Bucky was defending your honor even when you weren’t there, not letting anyone bad mouth you.

“And what did you say, Buck?” Fuck, your voice was breathy, heartrate picking up. You wanted to hear what he said, how he told his best friend off. Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on your arousal, still too heated from his argument.

“Fucking told his ass that if he ever says that shit again, I’ll fuck him up. No one talks about my girl like that, don’t give a shit who it is.” You swear you could cum right now. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because you’ve never had a man that didn’t let anyone disrespect you, or maybe you just liked to see him mad.

“I want you, Bucky. Want you to fuck me.” It just comes out, shocking the both of you. Bucky whips his head around, eyes as wide as your own.

“What?” 

“I want you to fuck me. I’m ready, know you don’t just want to use me.” Bucky’s dick is rock hard in seconds, all the anger in his body disapparating instantly. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweets? Because I have no problem waiting.” Throughout the course of your dating, Bucky can’t count the amount of times that he’s been hard and left his cock untouched. It’s gotten to the point where the two of you knew he was going to get hard when he was around you, not that it bothered you, knowing how much you were affecting him, but Bucky’s used to ignoring his erection now and he has no problem waiting for it to go away if you don’t want to have sex with him.

“Yes, Bucky, I think I’ve made you wait long enough. And to be honest, if I make you wait any longer I don’t think you’ll last more than a minute.” The mouth on you marvels Bucky every time. 

“Excuse me, sweets, but I’ll have you know I’m no two pump chump.” You only raise an eyebrow and Bucky huffs before kissing you again. It’s slow and hot. Bucky’s never kissed like this before, but with you he just can’t help but savor the feeling of your lips on his. He doesn’t want to rush, if he could he would kiss you forever, stuck in limbo, floating with only your touch to ground him.

You whine, hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Bucky moves back, smirking at you. “Desperate, aren’t we? Just wanna feel me ‘gainst you, huh?” Teasing hasn’t been something Bucky really did, always hurrying to the main event, but he wants to make you crave him as much as he does you. 

The glare you give him holds no heat, not able to be mad at him when he’s looking so damn hot above you. Bucky relents, just this once, and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when your hands land on his abs. “Holy hell, woman! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” You giggle but don’t pull away, sitting up and moving your hands across his back, slipping them into his sweats, finding his bare ass and squeezing.

“Well, loverboy, warm them up for me.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling at you. He takes your hands out of his pants and lays you back down, letting his warm palms circle the soft skin of your belly under your shirt. 

“Can I take this off, sweetheart? Gonna let me see those pretty tits?” Your cunt pulses at his words. Men that you’ve been with before haven’t talked to you like this, making you yearn for them.

“I mean, you can take it off but they’re not that pretty.” Bucky wheels his head back, clearly offended by your statement. For the first time, you shy away from his gaze. You weren’t exactly insecure about your body, but you also weren’t the most confident and you doubt that your body is better than the surplus of girls Bucky’s had.

“I beg your fucking pardon, sweets. I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.” Bucky lowers his face to yours, and you’re sure he is looking right through you. 

“Well, I doubt they’re the best pair you’ve seen, Buck. Don’t roll your eyes at me either.” You catch the eye roll Bucky gave you. He wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, but rather the words you were saying.

“I can’t believe my ears, sweets. The smartest girl I’ve ever met is saying what is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And that’s coming from the guy who is friends with Sam.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes and instead of saying anything back to him, you grab the bottom of your shirt and take it off, revealing your naked chest to him, foregoing a bra.

Like any man, Bucky gets distracted by the sight of your breasts on display for him. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and comes back from his daze. “Fuck, sweetheart, you got the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Fucking perfect.” Bucky isn’t lying either, he really does think that you’re the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, every part of your body is perfection. “Should be a model, sweets, let everyone see how gorgeous you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck and rest on your cheeks. You aren’t used to being looked at like this. The look he’s giving you is so much different from when you first started working with him. It’s not filled with lust, although you can tell it’s there, but filled with awe and love. “Uh, uh, don’t look away from me. Want you to look at me while I make you cum.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot that he found the first time you made out. The little gasps and whines that leave your lips has his cock begging to be touched, but right now it isn’t about him, it’s about you.

You arch your back, pressing your soft breasts against his solid chest, drawing his attention away from your neck and to your tits. Trailing kisses down your chest, he swirls his tongue around your right breast, purposely avoiding your sensitive nipple. He doesn’t listen to any of your protests so you take matters into your own hands and grab a fistfull of his hair and jerk his head to where you want him to be. 

 The moan that leaves Bucky is pornographic, having no idea he liked his hair pulled that much. Bucky abides and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. “Oh, Bucky, just like that, feels good.” Bucky has to buck his hips into yours, never hearing something so sexy in all his life.

His other hand comes up to grab your other breast, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, every so often switching to give each one the attention they deserve. The longer he plays with your breasts, the more you feel your panties soak and you can’t take it anymore, needing some type of release.

Bucky pulls away with a pop, the cool air hitting your wet nipples makes you gasp. “Baby, I need you to touch me.” You can sense the words about to leave his mouth and answer his unspoken question. “Touch my pussy.”

Letting out a deep groan, Bucky grabs the hem of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties down when you nod. Your hand jets down to cover your pussy when you remember that you haven’t shaved, not expecting to have sex with Bucky tonight. “Wait, I have hair right now, maybe we shouldn’t.”

Bucky just blinks at you. He can’t believe that you would deprive him of your pussy because of a little hair. “Sweets, I have been a patient man, but I swear to God if you don’t move your hand and let me see my pretty pussy I’m going to lose my mind. You really think I give a shit if you have some fucking hair?”

You just smile sheepishly at him before removing your hand. “There she is. Look at her, so beautiful ain’t she? Yeah, she’s dripping for me, knows who she belongs to.” Fuck, you didn’t expect him to be so enamored with your cunt. “Ya gonna let me touch my pretty girl?”

You gulp before giving a breathy yes and Bucky spreads your legs a little wider and brings his right hand up to your pussy lips, gently tracing them making you twitch and giggle. “Bucky, that tickles.” Bucky smiles and his nose scrunches before his thumb goes from your hole up to your clit. “Fuck, Bucky, rub my clit.”

He just stops his movement, resting his thumb on your bundle of nerves. “This is where I’m in charge, sweets, and I don’t think that was a very polite way of talking to the man who is touching you.” You huff, not used to taking orders from anyone, but you want him to keep touching you so you relent.

“Will you please, rub my clit, loverboy.”

Bucky clicks his tongue at you. “Now, sweets, that didn’t sound very genuine but I’ll let it slide this time because I want to see this pretty pussy soak your sheets.” 

He starts to rub your clit from side to side, making you jerk your hips away. “Don’t fucking DJ my cunt. Circles, Buck, circles. You’re making me lose faith in you, babe.” Heat makes its way up his neck, his selfishness finally catching up to him. He doesn’t say anything, but switches up his method to what you said and you giggle at his confidence wavering.

His little slip up doesn’t slow him down, though, quickly finding the pace and pressure that seems to work best and draws those pretty sounds from your lips. Bucky knows that he isn’t going to be able to get enough of this, of you laid out before him, consumed by the pleasure he is giving you. 

“You want my fingers inside ya? Cause I wanna feel my pretty girl cum around my fingers.” You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten to the edge this fast. All you can do is nod, moans and gasps the only sounds leaving your lips.

When his first finger slips inside you, your back arches and somehow the moans leaving you get even sexier and Bucky slips another finger in. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck my fingers in. Doing so good for me, knew you’d treat me so well. Don’t ya think, sweets?” The way he talks to your pussy has you leaking more arousal out.

“Please, Bucky, don’t stop, keep going just like that. M’gonna cum.”

A jolt of excitement shoots up Bucky’s spine. He wanted to see you cum so bad. Using every bit of self control in his body not to speed up, Bucky kept the same pace, curling his fingers to find that spongy patch. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweets, need to feel my pretty girl cum on my fingers. Promise I’ll feed her my cock after.”

Bucky groans with each clench of your cunt around his fingers, more desperate than you for your orgasm. “C’mon, sweets, give it to me. Can feel your clit pulsing. Be my good girl and give me what I want.” That was all you needed to fall off the edge, trusting that Bucky would catch you. 

Bucky’s sure that the sight of you cumming is the greatest thing in the world. He couldn’t dream of fucking you and not seeing you fall apart for him. He never stops moving his fingers, riding out your orgasm, only relenting when you push his hand away. It takes a few minutes, but you come back down, an open mouth smile on your face, eyes closed and Bucky falls even harder for you.

Blindly, you search for his pants, wanting to see his cock. “Bring him out, Buck, wanna see my new friend.” If it wasn’t for the orgasm he just gave you, Bucky would have been positive that you were drunk off your ass. Doubling over, Bucky cackles, not expecting to hear that come out of your mouth. “Don’t you laugh at me, loverboy, know your cock is huge. Let me meet him. Wanna put him in my mouth.” You give him a lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweets, you can meet him.” Bucky struggles to hold back his laugh. In all fairness, he did refer to your pussy as her, but the thought of you calling his dick him is hilarious. Nonetheless, Bucky strips the rest of his clothes off and you practically drool at the sight of his dick.

A little over average length, but thick as hell. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cock that thick and you know he is going to destroy your cunt. Under his cock, his balls were heavy and full, the amount of cum in there building up just for you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you and Bucky has to catch himself with his arms so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. 

You both gasp when his bare cock rubs against your soaking cunt. Bucky has to close his eyes and think about all the assignments he still has to complete to stop himself from cumming on the spot. “Want it inside me, please, Buck, give it to me.” Bucky is near the verge of crying when you grind your cunt on him.

All you want is for him to fuck you until you can’t see straight and so does Bucky, but it takes everything in him to put away, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth aren’t going to be sexy. “Hold on, sweets. I have to get a condom first.”

You don’t like that one bit, wanting to feel him inside you with no barrier. “Don’t need one, ‘m on the pill.” That has Bucky about to cum all over the sheets and your pussy. He knows that he needs to be responsible, not only for him, but for you too.

“Sweets, I, well, I haven’t been tested since my last partner. I’ve never done it without a condom, but I don’t want to risk it until I get tested.” He hangs his head in shame, yet again his promiscuity is coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give to feel your sopping cunt choke his dick, hell only knows, but his statement seems to sober you up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably for the best.” You can’t meet his eyes, the conversation awkward enough even if you weren’t about to fuck. Bucky takes in a deep breath and huffs out, clearly not knowing what to do next so you decide to lighten the mood. “Well, loverboy, you better wrap that bad boy up so you can prove that you can actually fuck me like you said you would. Top drawer. I got the good ones.”

You got Bucky to crack a smile before he gave a small smack to your thigh and walked over to your nightstand to get a condom. You wolf whistled when you saw his toned ass. “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Bucky wheels around and says some clever retort, but you don’t hear it, not when his cock swings around with him, bobbing at the sudden change of direction. Not only that, but with each step he takes, his dick bounces up and down. “Sweetheart, it’s all yours. Stare all you want but close your mouth before I put somethin’ in there.”

Bucky rolls the condom down his length, giving it a few pumps while he admires you laid out on the bed, naked and ready for him to fuck you. Before he climbs back into bed, you stop him. “Wait, loverboy, do a little spin for me, let me see him move.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky lets out a belly laugh, and he just so happens to make his cock and balls bounce. “C’mon, s’all I want.” When he calms down, Bucky relents and circles his hips a few times, his cock, although stiff, moves with his hips and you have to close your legs to try to relieve the ache in your core. “Fuck, need you now, Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweets, you need my cock? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed with my cock?” No smart retort comes to your mind, only the need to have him fill you up. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex and you know Bucky’s cock is going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Please, Buck.” Fuck, the way you’re looking at him, with wide, pleading eyes, and a pout on your lips has Bucky’s dick pulsing. He climbs on the bed, in between your legs. “How do you want me?” You’ve overheard Bucky relive his one night stands more than once in class, before he fell for you. He was always adamant that the only positions worth doing were the ones where he could see the girl’s ass, and how boring positions where he could see her face were. 

Bucky stares at you for a second, cupping your face and leaning down to give you a tender kiss. “Want you just like this, sweets, wanna see you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself not to cry at how intimate he’s being. Despite your best efforts, tears well up in your eyes, making Bucky panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His eyes hold so much love, something Bucky never thought he would feel for a partner. You wrap your legs and arms around him, clinging like a koala.

“Not a damn thing, Buck, just love you. Love you so fucking much it hurts.” Bucky feels his heart swell. If this is what it felt like to love and be loved, Bucky would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you, show you how perfect you are, love you as hard as he can and then some.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even put into words how much I fucking love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, made me change from the asshole I was.” Bucky had his own tears welling up in his waterline.

“Buck, make love to me, show me how much you love me.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his dick, drawing a gasp from his lips, and line him up with your pussy. He presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he pushes in, cock stretching your cunt with every inch.

Crashing his lips into yours, Bucky tries to hide his moan, whiny and long, never feeling such intense pleasure. Neither of you can kiss, just gasping into the other’s mouth. When his hips are flush with yours, balls resting against your ass, Bucky has to stop. If he moves he’ll cum; he knows it. He’s never felt like he would cum on the first stroke, but the way your cunt hugs him has him doubting that he’ll last more than a few minutes.

You can’t handle it, the stretch of his cock almost too much, but you needed him to move. “Please, baby, move, need it.” The moan that leaves him is sinful and you involuntarily clench around him.

“Sweets, can’t. Need a minute.” His arms go to your waist, and he pulls you up, groaning when his cock shifts deeper inside you, and sits with his back against the headboard, keeping you wrapped in his arms, bodies pressed so close together you could feel every muscle. Bucky closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relishing in the intimacy of the moment, with your breasts squished against his chest, feeling every breath you take, loving your soft hands scratching his scalp.

“Do this with all the girls, loverboy?” The breathiness in your voice has his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Never, sweetheart, never. You feel so fucking good.” Bucky sounded like he was about to cry with how hard he was trying not to cum.

You wanted him to fuck you, pussy leaking down his thighs. You decided that if you annoy him enough he might just fuck you dumb. “Guess I was right then, loverboy can’t last in bed. Gonna tell everyone how I broke your cock, how fast you came for me.”

That seemed to strike a nerve and Bucky rolled over, pining you to the bed with his body. You gasped at the quick motion and the jostle of his cock. “Sweets, now is not the time to tease me. Use your mouth for something better.” He could already hear your, like what, so he cut you off before you could get anything out. “Like moaning my name while I fuck you.”

He doesn’t pull his cock out far, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Pushing back in, he groans, having to will himself not to cum. You feel so good, pussy wrapped around him perfectly. “Sweets, love you so much, never wanna leave this pussy.” You whine, a jolt of pleasure going through your clit at his words. 

“Love you too, Buck. Want to stay like this forever, want you.” It’s Bucky’s turn to whine, rutting into you, the coarse curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, the sensation of your breasts pressed against him new. 

He can’t help it, you just look too pretty underneath him, grabbing both of your hands in his, lacing them together and putting them above your head and pressing his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes. His lips meet yours, both of your whines and moans mix together. 

The constant roll of his hips is pushing you to the edge faster than ever before. You take one of your hands, still laced with his, and place it over his heart, feeling the erratic beat. The coil in your stomach is curling tighter and tighter. “C’mon, sweets, can feel you clenching ‘round me. Give it to me, cum on my cock.” 

Bucky is doing his best to hold on, wanting this moment to last, to relish in the bubble the two of you have created. His moans get louder, his own orgasm creeping up on him. Wiggling your other hand out of his grasp, you run your fingers over the back of his head, crashing your lips on his before you fall off the edge, eyes rolling back and body quivering, his body the only thing grounding you.

He had to pull out, your pussy almost milking his cum out, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wants to make you cum again, this time while he looks at your face, seeing it scrunch up in pleasure. You didn’t seem too happy at him for pulling out, needing him to be as close as possible. “Keep fucking me, Bucky. I need you to cum for me.”

Bucky groans before guiding his cock back home, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your pussy somehow got even tighter. Not wasting any time, he starts thrusting again, this time much faster, still rolling his hips, hitting your sweet spot every time.

Pulling his body away from yours, Bucky sits up, resting your thighs over his, keeping his dick inside of you, not missing a single thrust. With the new position, he can see your breasts bounce, but more importantly, how beautiful your face looks screwed in ecstasy. “So fucking beautiful for me, sweets. Love the way your pretty tits jiggle, look gorgeous when your getting fucked dumb on my cock, gonna keep you like this all the time.” 

In this position, your clit is being neglected so you reach one hand down, desperate to cum again. Bucky quickly swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna make my girl cum. Just want you to lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that for me?” You just moan in response, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge again. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you want.” You feel Bucky’s cock pulsing inside of you, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, Bucky, fill me up with your cum.” You both know that he is wearing a condom, but the thought of his cum rushing into your pussy, stuffing you to the brim, is enough to have Bucky emptying his balls into the rubber, groaning deep, almost whining your name.

He can’t stop thrusting into you, still rubbing your clit, desperate for you to cum around him. “Sweets, so much fucking cum for you, know you can take it. Fuck, cum for me, milk my cock, get every drop out.” Bucky was right, you looked absolutely divine when you came. At that moment you’ve never looked prettier.

Bucky never felt an orgasm that intense, leaving him weak in the knees. Collapsing onto your chest, not able to hold his own weight up. You huff, air being pushed out of your lungs, but you don’t mind, his weight soothing, helping to bring you back down from the high of your orgasms. You both lay there, hands stroking each other until you fully come back to reality.

“Gonna pull out, sweets, okay?” Bucky has never had his cock in a girl this long after he’s came, and it was getting too sensitive. Words don’t come to mind and you just nod your head dumbly, both of you hissing at the sensation.

Without a word, Bucky gets up and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself up. All of a sudden tears well up in your eyes, body cold and craving his touch. He’s been so sweet to you for the past months, proving that he didn’t just want sex with you, but now he’s walking away as soon as you’re done. 

The buzzing of your body goes away, dread filling you. Rolling over, you burrito yourself under the covers, facing away from the bathroom, not able to stop the tears from streaming down your face. It only takes a few minutes, but to you it feels like a lifetime, until Bucky comes back, sliding under the covers himself. 

“So, sweets, what do ya’ want to do? I could go for a bite to eat myself. Don’t know when the last time you ate was though.” Bucky, on the other hand, was basking in the afterglow of the best sex of his life, already thinking about all the things he could do with you, all the ways he could get you to cum for him.

When you don’t respond right away, Bucky thinks you fell asleep. Leaving a kiss to the back of your head, he gets up and puts his sweats on, not bothering with anything else and heads to your kitchen. He doesn’t feel like making a full meal so he decides to just make a quick sandwich and head back to bed after eating.

You burst into full blown sobs when Bucky leaves, assuming that he left your dorm all together, having no idea that he was just outside. How could you have been so stupid to think that he really wanted you? Bucky goes to take a bite out of his snack when he hears your sobs, immediately thinking the worst - he hurt you, did something you didn’t like.

Rushing back into the room, Bucky climbs back into bed, rolling you over without warning. “What are you still doing here? Thought you left?” How could you ever think that he would leave you?

“No, sweets, just went to make a sandwich. What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Bucky has never been so fucking scared in all his life, terrified that he hurt you.

“Thought you left after you got what you wanted. You just left me in the bed after we were done.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting you to say that. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s never stuck around after sex, confused at what’s going on with you.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry that I made you think that, but I don’t know what’s going on. Need you to talk to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.” Your bottom lip wobbled, of course he didn’t know about aftercare. It wasn’t his fault that he never had a relationship like this. It meant so much to you that he was asking how to fix his mistake.

“I get really sensitive after sex. It’s annoying actually, but I need to be held and told that you still love me.” You avoid his gaze, more tears making their way down your face, Bucky wiping them away. How could his perfect girl think that her needs were annoying or an inconvenience to him.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Bucky pulls you into his lap, almost petting your hair. “You did so good for me, you know that? I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to change that, okay?” He pulls your head back to look into your eyes.

“It’s just that my last boyfriend said that he couldn’t look at me after sex, said he couldn’t see me the same way.” What in the fuck. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I know that I’m the fucking luckiest man alive to be able to be with you any way you let me. When I look at you I’m so proud to call you mine.”

You bury your head in his shoulder, letting him hold you and whisper sweet words in your ear. For his first time doing aftercare, Bucky is doing great and soon you come all the way down. Pulling away from him you giggle. “Love you too, Buck. Thank you for that. I know some men don’t care about that. After they get what they want they leave.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, thinking about all the girls he made feel like they were worthless. “I know that you did the same thing, but the fact that you were so willing to change means a lot to me.”

Bucky knows that there’s a lot he has to learn about being in a relationship, but he wants to learn it all to be the man you deserve. He is going to treat you like the goddess you are for the rest of his life, he knows it, already planning on picking out a ring, because he’s gonna love you for a long, long time.

[kwanisms]

Sweet Temptations — p.seonghwa

» ateez masterlist | seonghwa masterlist «

➮ florist!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 22.1k (sorry lmao) summary: Y/N favorite part of working at the Sweet Temptations Cafe is the view of the gorgeous flower shop across the street and the handsome and kind florist who comes in every morning at 7 am on the dot. genres/themes/au: smut; flower love language, strangers to lovers; non idol au, florist au, barista au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, flirty Seonghwa, also Seonghwa being a menace, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

join my taglist! MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this is my submission for the @cultofdionysus Spring event, The Language of Flowers. I have no excuse for the word count lmao just enjoy it. I’m probably going to stick to posting longer oneshots because I enjoy world building. Thank you so much @cheolism for beta-reading this for me ꒰｡•◡•｡꒱ thank you to everyone who reads this and if you reblog it, just know I’m tucking you into bed and kissing ur forehead 😘 as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: male masturbation, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap that shit), oral (m receiving, f receiving), mild facefucking (f receiving), dirty talk, praise (f receiving), finger sucking, spitting, choking (f receiving), marking/biting (f receiving), semi public sex, rough sex, hair pulling (m receiving), mild breeding kink, use of pet names (baeknari/lily, petal, blossom, sweetheart, kitten, etc.), dom!Seonghwa, sub!Reader, and I think that’s it but I could have missed some lol

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Park Seonghwa was a simple man, known for three things: his love for coffee, his punctuality, and his affinity for flowers. 

It had never been his intention to open a flower shop but somehow it had happened. When he was a child, his father had loved gardening, as had his mother. From a young age Seonghwa had learned the language of flowers, particularly of those in his parents’ garden. Along with his exceedingly good looks, his knowledge of flowers ended up helping him score points with the girls in his class.

As a teenager, Seonghwa wanted to be an athlete, particularly in volleyball, having lost his love for flowers and their secret language. He'd intended to make that his career but after the untimely death of his grandmother, Seonghwa rediscovered a passion and love for flowers. He changed his major from sports to business administration and upon graduating with a degree, he set out to start a business.

Four years had passed since he opened his flower shop, The Flower Guy, and he was surprised by the overwhelmingly positive response from the town. Business had been booming ever since he opened his shop and it didn’t die down. He’d built up a steady clientele, from other businesses to wedding planners. 

He’d been able to turn it into his livelihood and couldn’t be happier with the decisions that led him to where he was now, even as he swept the floor of the shop, pushing the dirt into the waiting dustpan.

The sun was setting over the town square, basking the buildings in its dying golden glow. With a stretch and a sigh, Seonghwa checked the time on his watch before walking over, turning the lock on the door, and flipping off the switch for the open sign. He went back to his sweeping, brushing all the dirt and debris from the stone tile into the dustpan before picking it up and making his way to the back of his shop to deposit the dirt.

He checked the door leading to the narrow alley behind his shop, making sure the lock was secure — although if anyone did manage to break in, the most they would find were some flowers and maybe some gardening tools. Seonghwa was a smart man and always made sure to empty the register and do his accounting at the end of each day, taking everything home to put in his safe there. The safe in the shop was for show and only kept papers inside.

After putting away the broom and dustpan, he set to work mopping the tiles from the door to the back before putting the microfiber mop away. He then set to work, misting all the flowers in the back room. After he grabbed the till from the register, moving back to the office to start the process of closing up and counting the profits of the day.

You flipped the sign from opened to closed and let out a yawn. The square outside was almost deserted, only a few people still outside, enjoying the nice weather of the day. 

“Y/N, could you wipe down the tables and counter for me?” you heard from behind you and turned to find your manager, Addie, already starting to mop. 

Without a word, you headed through the shop, ducking behind the counter to grab a clean rag and the bucket of soapy disinfectant water. You grabbed a pair of gloves, pulling them on before heading out to start wiping the tables down and cleaning them up. You worked in silence, the soft piano tones of the overhead speakers playing on low volume.

The cafe wasn’t very big, and the tables weren’t exceptionally dirty, so it didn’t take you any longer than usual to wipe all of them down. You were wiping down the counter, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot of spilled coffee you must have missed earlier in the day when Addie returned, opening the drawer of the first register and starting to read the card slips, inputting any of the tips that hadn’t been put into the computer.

Once done, she pulled out the money and added it to the jar you kept on the counter by the register for tips before moving to the other register and repeating the process. It had just been the two of you working the front end and one person, Lin, in the kitchen. 

Wednesdays weren’t a particularly busy day for the cafe and the amount of work you had closing reflected that. Addie went to the back to do the daily accounting while you checked on Lin in the kitchen, offering them your help. Once you were both done, you announced your departure to Addie who wished you both a good night.

Outside, you said goodbye to your coworker and noticed the door of the flower shop opening. The florist was exiting, shutting the door behind him and locking it with his key which he returned to his pocket. He turned and froze, noticing you watching him.

“Good evening,” you said as he started forward again, closing the distance between you. 

“Evening, baeknari,” he said, a smile on his face as he reached you, matching your pace as you started to walk alongside him.

‘That nickname again,’ you thought to yourself, a smile threatening to spread across your lips.

You remembered when you’d asked him what it meant and he told you that in Korean it meant white lily. For some reason, him calling you ‘white lily’ made you giddy.

“Busy today?” you asked, keeping your hands tucked in your pockets.

“Not terribly,” he replied, his own hands tucked in his coat pockets. “Mainly just people coming to buy flowers for their partners. Got a couple events booked next week,” he added. 

“Do you book a lot of events?” you asked as the two of you walked towards the main street. 

“A fair few.Mostly birthdays and the odd anniversary,” he explained. “The floral arrangements for those are always easy.”

You smiled as you glanced up at him.

Ever since you’d first met Seonghwa, there was something about him that drew you to him. Maybe it was his passion for his craft, his sense of humor, or maybe his incredibly good looks. Regardless, you had been intrigued immediately and were interested in getting to know him on a more personal level.

You knew almost next to nothing about the man other than he liked banana nut muffins, caramel macchiatos with white chocolate sauce, and flowers. You could pick out other little facts based on your short interactions with him. He dressed like a model, wearing clothes that probably cost more than you were willing to spend. Then again, he could probably make anything he wore look expensive.

He also smelled amazing, like warm vanilla and cinnamon.

Not that you took to smelling him often. The scent just permeated the air around him; not in a way that had you coughing or gagging, though. He reeked of expensive taste and oozed a confidence and charisma that you could only dream of possessing.

“What are the hardest events?” you asked, looking up at him. The two of you stopped at the main thoroughfare and Seonghwa turned to look at you, fixing you with his dark brown eyes. He hesitated a moment before answering your question.

“Weddings,” he said honestly. “I love booking weddings because I can make a lot of money doing floral arrangements for an entire venue but there’s the…” he trailed off, glancing away and across the street. You took a step forward, not realizing it until he looked back down at you and was considerably closer.

That was the thing about Seonghwa, he had this innate ability to draw people into him, figuratively and literally. He was alluring and magnanimous. He always managed to invade your thoughts and made you want more of him, whether that be through conversation or something more intimate —

‘Get it together, Y/N. You’re in public!’

“The what?” you asked softly. Seonghwa chuckled lightly before answering.

“The brides,” he replied. Your brows knitted together, confusion taking over your features. 

“The brides?” you asked. “What’s wrong with the brides?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “Nothing, inherently. It’s just some of them.”

You nodded, understanding instantly.

“Ah,” you replied, fighting the urge to smirk. “Bridezillas.”

He nodded, eyes scanning your face as you glanced at a passing couple with a dog, a smile crossing your face. One of your favorite things about this town was all the dog owners. You loved dogs.

‘Distracted much?’

You turned back to Seonghwa. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The bridezillas.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was cut short by the shrill sound of a ringing phone. Seonghwa sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, holding up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, fishing his phone from his pocket, and checked the screen.

Whoever was on the other end he must not have wanted to talk to, because he groaned and rolled his eyes yet again. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, looking up at you. “I have to take this and if I know this person, they’re going to talk and talk and talk. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded as he started to back away, his phone still ringing. “Have a good night!” you called as he answered the phone. 

“You, too!” he said before turning away and starting to walk in the direction of his home, leaving you to turn and walk the opposite direction.

“This had better be good, Joong,” Seonghwa snapped. “I was in the middle of a conversation with —”

“With Cafe Girl?”

Seonghwa sighed, coming to a halt and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yes. And for the last time, her name is Y/N.”

Hongjoong chuckled on the other end. “Yeah, her. Have you asked her out yet?”

Seonghwa continued walking, switching his phone to the other side. “No,” he answered. “Not yet.”

Hongjoong booed him and Seonghwa clenched his jaw as he walked through the few pedestrians on the sidewalk, making his way to his apartment. “You’re never gonna get in her bed if you don’t ask her out.” 

Seonghwa could have strangled his friend.

“Is there a point to your call?” Seonghwa asked as he approached the door to his building.

“Oh, right! I have this thing,” Hongjoong started. “An event.” 

Seonghwa snorted as he typed the code in to get into his building. “You have an event?” he asked incredulously as he walked across the lobby, nodding at one of his neighbors picking up their mail as he stopped by his mailbox to retrieve his.

“Yes,” Hongjoong said, sounding indignant. “I have an event and I was wonder—”

“Let me guess,” Seonghwa said as he pressed the button for the elevator. “You want me to do floral arrangements?” 

He heard Hongjoong scoff over the phone. “No, I was gonna ask you to attend, smartass.” 

Seonghwa got off at his floor and made his way to his door, bowing politely to his neighbor as he passed.

“When is it?” Seonghwa asked as he reached his door, fishing out his keys and unlocking the door.

Once inside, he kicked his shoes off and walked over to deposit his mail on the kitchen counter.

“Next month, the 30th.” 

Seonghwa told him to hold, pulling his phone away from his ear to check his calendar.

“I should be free,” he said. “Send me the details,” he added as he started to go through his mail.

“Awesome. And actually, on second thought, could you perhaps make me something pretty to display?”

Seonghwa chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodbye Joong,” he said, hanging up before his best friend could say anything else.

“The nerve of that guy,” he whispered as he set his phone down. “To expect me to make him shit for free.”

Of course, Seonghwa would make something nice for Hongjoong and he would definitely be doing it for free.

Free food and alcohol that is.

——————————————————

‘Well, shit.’

Seonghwa stared at the long line from outside the cafe and sighed, reluctantly pulling open the door and stepping, holding the door for two people who were leaving. He glanced over the heads of the patrons before him to find you working diligently to take orders with another cashier and even hopping on to help fulfill orders, making lattes and wrapping up scones, muffins, and other pastries all with a smile on your face.

One of his favorite things about you. You never complained, at least not in front of the customers. You never let them see how overwhelmed or stressed you were. You always had a smile on your face, working fast to make sure everyone’s orders came out in a timely manner. 

You handed over a bag full of pastries, giving the customer in front of you another radiant smile before they stepped aside to wait for their coffee and you were able to take the next order. Seonghwa couldn’t help but watch you work. He always had a habit of watching you when he came in.

He hated how creepy that made him sound but he was just so fascinated with how well you seemed to work under pressure and how well you kept it together when a customer was screaming in your face. You were always so polite and so sweet and Seonghwa knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed you.

There were always a plethora of men who flirted with you, asking for your number, asking what time you got off work. And always you turned them down gently and sent them on their way; every single guy got the same treatment.

Well, every guy except for Seonghwa. He noticed that when the other guys flirted, you smiled and steered the conversation back to their order, yet when Seonghwa did the exact same thing, flirting with you as if you hadn’t heard every pick up line in the book, you never once turned him down. 

In fact, if Seonghwa was remembering correctly, you often flirted back with him, smile widening into a genuine one before you looked down at the counter and either busied yourself with a marker or your apron, something you often did when you were flustered.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but with him, you always flirted back and it drove Seonghwa increasingly mad. Especially when your smiles turned shy, you shifted nervously, or pretended to be busy, all tell tale signs you were shy or flustered. 

Seonghwa remembered the first day you started working here, having been a regular customer for several years. He’d seen several guys flirt with you before he approached the counter and made a joke about them, which made you genuinely laugh. That was the exact moment he knew you were going to plague his every thought. 

That laugh, the way you threw your head back, the genuine joy and amusement on your face and the cute stickers you added to his cup sent the signal that you just might be interested in him and so every day for the last two years, he’s been coming to this cafe.

Not for the coffee, not for the pastries, but to see your beautiful face. Hopefully make you smile or laugh, and when he did, it gave him enough fuel to get through the day, more than the coffee or the muffins you sold him every morning.

Seonghwa was only a few paces from the counter when you noticed him. You had been making a latte when you glanced over and noticed him, a shy smile gracing your lips before you went back to work so as to not spill any of the boiling hot coffee on your hands.

The next customer went, ordering what seemed to be the entire left side of the menu; thankfully the person before Seonghwa ordered a simple black coffee and a sugar-free blueberry muffin; then it was his turn. You wiped down the counter and smiled at him which soon turned apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” you started softly. Seonghwa’s stomach sank and he wondered what you could possibly need to apologize to him for. “We ran out of your usual muffin,” you explained and Seonghwa smiled, his stomach settling back where it was supposed to be. No banana nut muffins? No problem.

“Oh that’s alright,” he said, glancing at the menu quickly. “Just the usual coffee and I’ll try a lemon poppyseed muffin instead,” he ordered, pulling his wallet out as you punched his order in and pressing the card reader option on the terminal.

“Sorry it’s so busy,” you added in an undertone. Seonghwa tapped his card against the reader until it beeped and put his card away in his wallet, placing it back in his pocket. 

“And take your time,” he added. “I’m not in any rush.” You smiled and mouthed ‘thank you’ before turning to start making his coffee.

It wasn’t like anyone else couldn’t make his coffee, but he preferred it when you did and knew you preferred it, too. You often drew little doodles or added stickers and left encouraging messages on his cup sleeve — which he totally didn’t keep when he needed a mood pick up during the long hours at the shop.

He waited patiently off to the side, checking his phone. He wished he could get your number one of these days but he really had no way of asking, considering he knew you’d never be able to give your number to a customer while you were working. That had to be against a bunch of rules.

But he could leave his number with you, right? God, he was stupid. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Seonghwa approached the counter to speak to your co-worker. “Hi,” he said softly. “Do you have a post-it note and a pen I could borrow?” he asked. The college-aged student nodded, grabbing a stack of yellow post-its and a pen, handing them off to Seonghwa. He took them with a thanks, scribbling down his number and name.

You moved from the coffee maker and slid open the cold case to grab his muffin with a deli paper. You placed it into a paper sack and grabbed the coffee cup, moving to the pick up area where Seonghwa was waiting. “One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce and a lemon poppyseed muffin,” you said with a smile as you placed his order on the counter and pushed it towards him.

Seonghwa leaned forward, thanking you and pressing the folded yellow post-it into your hand before grabbing his coffee and muffin, giving you a wink, and making his way to the door. He didn’t stop to see if you opened the note. He would find out later if you took him up on his offer.

As he reached the door to his shop, fishing his keys out to unlock the door and let himself in, he felt his pocket vibrate in his pocket and chuckled to himself. “That was fast,” he whispered as he shut the door and turned the lock, moving through the front room and into the office.

He set his coffee and muffin down, reached into his coat pocket and pulled his phone out, expecting to see an unknown number but instead saw a text from Hongjoong.

Joongie: what was that shit we got when we were in the city last month? The wine. The red one Seonghwa rolled his eyes before typing in a quick response. Seonghwa: the red wine we got at dinner from that one restaurant? It was Roscato – Rosso Dolce. Joongie: ur a life saver! (: thank u! Seonghwa: is this to impress a girl? Joongie: I’ll never tell ;)

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and locked the screen of his phone, setting it down on the desk and removing his coat to hang up. He sat down and opened his bag to pull out the muffin and took a nibble. It wasn’t bad. The banana nut ones were his favorite but this would do.

He grabbed the coffee cup and smiled at the words and doodles on the page as well as a couple stickers. ‘She must have done this when I wasn’t looking,’ he told himself, smiling at the little notes you left on his coffee sleeve. Another one for his collection.

The rush had finally ended and you could take your break. You grabbed a simple iced coffee and a muffin, moving to the back to sit at the break table and pulled the yellow note from your apron. You unfolded it and read on the note.

You smiled, gently nibbling on your bottom lip as you slipped your phone out of your pocket and opened your texting app, entering his digits into your phone and sending a quick text.

Y/N: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place

You continued to pick and nibble on your muffin, scrolling on your phone as you ticked away the minutes of your break. You decided to send one more text to let Seonghwa know you were heading back to work and would be unavailable until after your shift was over.

Once it sent, you pocketed the device and went back to work, trying desperately not to think about the phone in your apron pocket that vibrated every so often and what that notification might be. 

The rest of your shift was uneventful as you took orders from the few stragglers that came in, others coming in to take up residence at a table and work on either work or school work while sipping on their coffee and taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi.

“Could you take these back to the kitchen to be washed,” Addie asked softly, pulling you out of your stupor as you stood doodling mindlessly on a notepad you kept at the register. You set the pen down and stood up, taking the carafes from her and heading for the doorway into the kitchen where Lin was currently washing dishes. 

“Need any help back here?” you asked, hopefully but they shook their head. 

“Nah,” Lin answered. “I got it. But thank you,” they added.

You turned away and headed back up front, sighing heavily as you returned to your spot. You glanced up at the clock. Time seemed to be ticking slowly, minute by minute. Inching by like a snail on a garden wall. Slow and steady wins the race but what race? Race of being bored to death?

‘Okay, Y/N, stop being dramatic.’

“Addie,” you murmured, chin resting in your hand as you looked around at the mostly empty cafe. “I’m dying of boredom here,” you announced before turning to face her. “Please tell me you have something for me to do,” you said, almost pleadingly. Addie chuckled and nodded towards the dining area. 

“If you’re desperate for something to do, you can wipe down the empty tables,” she answered and you smiled, ducking down to grab the small bucket of soapy sanitizer water and a clean rag, before standing up and making your way out from behind the counter.

Cleaning the tables was something to keep your body occupied but unfortunately it didn’t do much for keeping your mind occupied. Every once in a while, you threw glances towards the windows that looked out into the town square where you could see the front of the flower shop. 

You pulled your phone out and snuck a glance at the screen but there were no notifications beyond your  discord group chats with friends. ‘He must be really busy,’ you thought to yourself as you tucked your phone away and went back to wiping down the tables.

Every time a table cleared, you were quick to wipe it down, brushing any debris onto the floor to sweep up later with the broom.

When the last of the customers cleared out and Addie shut the door, locking it and flipping the open sign over to the side that read ‘closed,’ you were beyond excited to get out of the cafe and go home. 

Grabbing the broom, you started from the back, sweeping around the cafe, making little piles of dirt, trash, and other debris to come by and pick up with the dustpan later. Lin finished the dishes in the back and was restocking the small fridges under the counter while Addie was preparing things for the following day.

Once your small mounds of dust and trash had been swept up, you made your way to the back to fill the mop bucket and grab the mop. Taking it back to the front, you worked from the far side of the shop towards the counter while Lin returned to the kitchen to clean the back.

By the time both you and Lin had finished mopping and drying key areas of the floor, Addie had finished counting the tills and was in the office, doing the final accounting duties of the day.

“We’re finished, Addie,” Lin said as you both peered into the office. 

“All right,” she replied. “I’ll see you two tomorrow?” 

You nodded, waving and then made your way to the front door, Lin not far behind.

“Do you want to grab an early dinner?” Lin asked as they pulled their beanie on, the ends of their hair multicolored flipping up. You smiled and shook your head. 

“No, but thank you,” you replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” you announced as you turned to walk in the direction of your home, Lin heading the opposite way.

As you passed, you glanced over at the floral shop to see the lights inside were still on from what you could see; the open sign had also been flipped to show it was now closed. You hadn’t seen anyone go in or out of the shop since Seonghwa entered it this morning and you wondered if it was normally closed on certain weekdays and you just hadn’t noticed before.

You were half tempted to stop by, knock on the door and tell Seonghwa in person that you were interested in going on that date, but you’d have to just trust he would get your texts. You didn’t want to come off as desperate but something inside you told you Seonghwa wouldn’t mind even if you did.

Still, you would wait for his response.

Seonghwa looked up from sweeping to notice the cafe had already flipped its open sign. He could see your figure in the distance walking away from the shop and he watched as you walked away, resisting the urge to exit his own shop and stop you. He’d just wait until he got home to check his messages. 

He hadn’t been able to look at his phone since that morning when Hongjoong texted him. He had orders to fill for school dances and other events. It was also pruning day so he really couldn’t have his phone on him with how much work he had to do.

He turned away as your form disappeared from his line of sight and continued sweeping. His hands tightened around the broomstick, the frequency of his sweeping motion increasing as he remembered the way your eyes looked up at him in curiosity when he handed you the note and it made his mind run wild.

‘No. Stop it.’

He shook his head and tried to go back to the task at hand but it wasn’t long until his mind wandered, imagining how you’d look bending over to sweep the cafe and again he had to take a deep breath and force his mind elsewhere. It was getting ridiculous, the way his thoughts ran wild when you were on the forefront of his mind.

He was no stranger to fantasies but this was beyond fantasizing at this point. He couldn’t help but think about you doing the most mundane tasks before his imagination got away from him and he was imagining bending you over his kitchen counter, or laying you back on the counter of the cafe as he buried his head between your thighs —

“Stop it!” he shouted, throwing the broom to the floor with a clatter as he ran his fingers through his hair, eyes screwed shut as he regulated his breathing, shoulders rising and falling as he failed to gain control of his own thoughts and emotions.

His constant fantasizing made him feel like some sort of crazed sexual deviant and he often wondered if maybe he just needed to get laid and the thoughts might go away. Unfortunately for him, the only person he wanted was the source of his anguish, the subject of all his fantasies and thoughts.

Seonghwa grumbled to himself, bending over to pick up the broom and resume sweeping. He needed to get it done fast so he could go home to find some relief.

Once the shop was clean and locked up tightly, Seonghwa left out the front door, the bell ringing as he opened the door and shut it. Once he locked it, he began making his way across the square in the same direction you had initially gone, only to eventually turn right and head for his own apartment.

It wasn’t much, an old brick building that was once a high school before the new one was built and the old one turned into apartments. It was the first place Seonghwa looked when he was moving to this town and found a one bedroom apartment with a den. He’d lived there ever since, turning the clean slate into a home.

The bedroom Seonghwa had turned into an office and opted to sleep in the den where there were no windows. He had this thing about light; he couldn’t sleep if any lights were on, even if they came from outside. The den had no window, and so he didn’t need to buy blackout curtains. The doors to the den were double sliding doors that met in the middle and with the twist of a knob, locked together. It wasn’t as sturdy as a bedroom door, but it did the job.

Seonghwa unlocked the door, letting himself into the apartment where he shut and locked the door. He then leaned against it, letting out a sigh that morphed into a groan. He took off his shoes, setting them by the shoe rack, and removed his coat, hanging it up in the closet by the front door.

He set his mail on the counter and started going through it, sorting the important stuff from the junk.

Once that was done, he checked the time and sighed before picking up his phone and scrolling through the options for delivery. Once he settled on something, he placed his order and went about his business until there was a buzz at the intercom.

The restaurant must not have been busy because his food arrived promptly and he buzzed the driver up, paying him and giving a generous tip before closing the door and settling down with his meal and a show for background noise.

His thoughts shifted to you and what you might be having for dinner. Were you eating alone? Were you watching TV? Had you gone on a date? That last thought almost soured his mood but he forced the thought from his mind and dug his phone out of his pocket.

He had a handful of texts from an unknown number and opened the messages. 

xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i was on my break but i have to go back now and won’t be able to check my phone  xxx-xxxx-xxxx: just let me know! xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey i just got off and i’m heading home.  xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i’m still interested in getting dinner with you sometime

Seonghwa smiled to himself reading your texts before he promptly saved your number to his phone and shot you a few texts back.

Seonghwa: hey sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I just sat down to eat dinner. It was a busy day at the shop Seonghwa: if you’re still interested, i’d love to get dinner some time this week Seonghwa: does this Saturday work for you?

He set his phone aside and resumed eating only for his screen to light up with a new text from you. ‘She responded so fast?’ he thought. ‘Is she eager?’ Or perhaps, like him, she was desperate. Not that he would judge. He would never think of you in a bad way. He knew he was desperate, maybe even pathetic at times, but you? Not you. You were nothing like him.

Y/N: saturday sounds perfect (: what time?

He typed a quick response, trying not to get overly excited by the fact that you wanted to see him too. ‘It’s not that serious,’ he told himself. ‘Down boy.’

Seonghwa: how about 7? I know this Italian place not far from my apartment

He held his phone in his hand, food all but forgotten as he waited for your response which came just as quickly as it had before.

Y/N: sounds perfect! Send me the address and I’ll meet you there

Seonghwa smiled to himself as he typed in the restaurant name and address for you to save before he set his phone down and looked at his forgotten meal, cursing silently as he picked up his utensil and continued eating.

He had a date with you on Saturday at seven pm and he was going to need to be on his best behavior.

After eating, he cleaned up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Since the sweeping incident, he hadn’t been able to calm down and decided it would be best if he just relieved himself in the shower.

It had come down to this plenty of times before, fantasizing about you while he was at work only to have to come home and jerk off so he could settle down and go to sleep. It was like second nature at this point. He had a few fantasies he could relive in moments like these, letting out a sigh as the hot water beat down on him, running down his body as he stood under the stream.

He pushed his hair out of his face, keeping his eyes shut as he let his hands rest on the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he let one of his hands wander, sliding down his chest, moving slowly further and further down until the tips of his fingers brushed over his pubic region, stopping to take a deep breath.

Behind his eyelids, he imagined your face, your sweet smile when he would flirt with you, the way you looked away clearly flustered by his attention. The images in his mind shifted to you standing in his kitchen; it wasn’t entirely uncommon for his fantasies to start off with doing something domestic like cooking.

He let out a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. In his mind, he had you bent over the counter, panties around your ankles as he guided the tip of his cock to your soaking entrance. 

Slowly Seonghwa’s hand moved, stroking himself as he imagined it was your cunt instead that was cripping him tightly. He could almost hear your whimpers as he imagined he was thrusting into your warm, velvety walls instead of into his fist.

“Fuck,” he hissed, chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he continued to stroke himself, squeezing the base of his cock like he imagined your cunt would as you started to spasm around him. A few more strokes and he let out a stifled moan as he came, ropes of white hitting the shower tile. 

He took a few moments to regain his composure before spraying down the tiles, washing away the shame of fantasizing about you. He always felt guilty following this sessions in the shower or in his bed as he imagined fucking you or your mouth but the shame would ebb away and the desire to have you, to corrupt you, would return in full force.

As he continued with the routine of his shower, he wondered what you looked like when you came. Did your eyes roll back as your lips parted in a silent moan?

Did you cry out, tears in the corner of your eyes as you came? He wanted nothing more than to find out, but he had to remind himself to take it slow. He didn’t want to scare you.

‘Baby steps.’

Once he was cleaned, dried, and dressed in his pajamas, Seonghwa entered the den, shutting the doors behind him and moving to set his phone on the wireless charger. He noticed he had another text from you.

Y/N: goodnight Seonghwa (:

He smiled as he sent a text back before putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and set it on the charger. He turned off the light and got into bed, thankfully drifting off to sleep quickly.

As quickly as sleep came, the dreams followed and the next morning, Seonghwa woke up with a raging hard-on and a new fantasy involving the cute barista from his favorite cafe.

After taking a quick shower to relieve himself, Seonghwa got dressed and headed out of the apartment, making his way down the stairs when he checked his pocket to find he was missing his phone. “Damn it,” he cursed softly and headed back up, letting himself into his apartment and grabbing his phone from where he left it in his room.

He checked the screen to see if it was charged and found a few message notifications. He opened the device and smiled as he read the texts from you.

Y/N: good morning Seonghwa Y/N: i hope you slept well! (: Y/N: i can’t wait to see you in the cafe this morning

Seonghwa chuckled, pocketing the phone and headed back out to start making his way to the town square. The whole walk there, he contemplated going to another cafe but felt that might be a little mean. Maybe he just wanted you to long for his presence the way he longed for yours.

The scene in the cafe was the opposite of the previous morning and you were currently camped out by the register, ringing up an order for a small elderly woman. When she paid and stepped aside it was Seonghwa’s turn and he was instantly glad he decided not to visit another cafe.

The smile that spread across your lips and reached to your eyes was even more radiant than any smile he’d seen before. “Good morning,” you said breathlessly and Seonghwa knew it the way you said it was more than a standard employee greeting a customer.

There was a sparkle in your eyes he’d never seen before. Almost a yearning, like you were excited to see him. ‘Cute,’ he told himself as he glanced up at the menu. As if he even needed to. 

“The usual?” you asked before he could start order and he smiled at your eagerness to serve him.

Before he could stop it, his mind wandered and he wondered if you were this eager to please in other areas. ‘Don’t do this. Not right now,’ he told himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes please,” he replied, feeling relieved when you looked down to punch in his order.

You told him his total, pressing the button for the card reader yet again, same routine as the day before and he paid by tapping his card against the reader. Once it beeped, you printed off the receipt and set it on a stack after he refused it. You opened the case to get his muffin, a banana nut one, from the second shelf, put it in a paper bag, and handed it to him before getting started on his coffee.

Seonghwa normally busied himself with his phone while you worked but this time, he didn’t look away. Instead he allowed his eyes to wander, taking in your backside. He was eternally grateful the cafe didn’t force you to wear some ugly uniform. 

You wore a knee length cream colored dress with a white lace trim peeking out from under the hem. The dress was fitted at the waist, showing off your curves as you worked. The sleeves were short and there was a collared v-neck. The dark brown apron you wore complimented the dress, offering some contrast.

Seonghwa didn’t often take in what you were wearing, but the dress was really pretty on you. He wondered if you always wore clothes like this to work or if you had dressed up for him.

You finished his coffee, placing a lid on it and then sliding the cup into a sleeve before picking up a marker and starting to write on it. He saw you sneak a couple of stickers onto the sleeve before walking over to the pick up counter and set his coffee down. 

“One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce,” you said softly, almost shyly as he stepped forward to take it. 

“Thank you,” he said softly and smiled as you adjusted the ties of your apron that most certainly didn’t need adjusting. “See you later,” Seonghwa said softly, sending you a wink and making his way towards the door, pushing it open with his back and stepping out into the square.

You sighed and watched Seonghwa walk out of the door, crossing the square to the floral shop and watched as he opened the door. “What are you looking at?” Lin asked in your ear and you flinched, turning your gaze away from the windows, grabbing a towel and starting to wipe the counters.

“N-nothing,” you stammered but Lin already saw everything. 

“Isn’t that the florist?” they asked. You shrugged, falling silent as you scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the counter. 

“He’s pretty handsome,” Lin added as you pretended to be busy.

“Who’s pretty handsome?” a voice asked and you both turned to see Addie standing by the espresso machine, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter. “The florist,” Lin answered before you could stop them. Addie raised an eyebrow, glancing out the cafe windows over at the flower shop before looking back at you.

“What about him?”

“Y/N was sighing and watching him walk away,” Lin said, smirking at you as your cheeks burned and you looked away. 

“Sighing?” Addie asked, glancing at you. “Oh no, is Y/N in love?” she asked, a slight teasing tone in her voice. 

You rolled your eyes, setting the rag under the counter and started to walk away.

“I hate you guys,” you muttered, but you in fact did not hate them. A fact they were well aware of.

Throughout your shift, you sent texts to Seonghwa and he replied when he could. You could see people going in and out of the shop all day, some leaving with large bouquets and others with small ones or single flowers. Business was clearly booming, or was it blooming?

While you were waiting for your shift to end, you decided to pull up the restaurant Seonghwa had suggested, something you should have done yesterday when he first brought it up but it slipped your mind. He had mentioned it was an Italian place and the menu looked good.

As the day wore on, you were getting more and more excited for your date with the handsome florist.

Saturday, for you, could not come fast enough.

——————————————————

For Seonghwa, Saturday came much too fast and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. The fantasies starring you had increased in frequency and he was finding it harder (no pun intended) to not pop a boner at the mere thought of you. He needed to learn to control himself. 

He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt as he looked over his appearance, seeing if anything was out of place. He took a deep breath and gave his reflection a nod before moving to grab his coat, sliding it on. From the counter, he retrieved his keys, wallet, and phone, pocketing the items as he walked over to the door, slipping on his shoes, and let himself out into the hall.

The ride in the small old elevator down to the main floor took a few minutes from his apartment on the top floor and soon he was walking through the empty lobby, footsteps echoing against the walls as he crossed the tile floor to the front door.

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t a long one and he hoped it wasn’t too far for you either. He didn’t know exactly where you lived, he just knew you always turned left at the main road when walking home and he always went right.

The restaurant had opened up recently in a newly renovated building of connected shops. Seonghwa had seen it in passing a couple times and now that the opportunity to go on a date had presented itself, he figured it would be the perfect time to check it out, and who better to experience it with than the person who occupied almost all his thoughts.

Seonghwa arrived after a brisk walk, pulling the door open and then holding it for two people exiting. He stepped inside, approaching the host stand where a young woman with shoulder length brown hair wearing a plain black tee, black slacks stood.

She smiled up at him as he approached.

“Hi, just one?” she asked, grabbing a menu. 

“Uh, two actually. I have a reservation,” Seonghwa answered. 

She smiled, setting the menu down and opening the book. “Name?” she asked, picking up a black pen and scanning the sheet.

“Park,” he answered, waiting for her to find his name. 

“You’re a little early,” she noted, checking the time. “I can mark you down and when your table opens up, I can send you a text,” she offered, looking up. 

“I think I’ll just sit at the bar,” he said, watching as he scribbled something down on the page. 

“Alright,” she said, smiling as she clicked the pen. “I’ll let you know when a table opens up.”

Seonghwa thanked her and made his way over to the bar, catching the bartender’s attention as he took a seat. The bartender, a man who seemed to be around his age, set a napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?” he asked. Seonghwa glanced at the glass bottles that lined a shelf behind him.

“Could I get a whiskey, neat?” he asked, looking back at the bartender who nodded and turned to open the case with the chilled glasses. Seonghwa took the opportunity to shrug out of his coat and look around as he unbuttoned his sleeve cuffs.

He had expected the restaurant to have a more modern feel but instead of a clean and sterile environment, the textured wallpaper was a cream colored, contrasting with the dark warm wood floors and accents. The tables were all round, covered in white tablecloth. The larger tables were in the middle with white cushioned chairs to accommodate 6 people. Along the windowed walls were smaller tables for two to three people.

Seonghwa turned back as the bartender returned, setting his drink in front of him. Seonghwa thanked him and pulled his wallet out to pay but the bartender declined. “First one’s on the house,” he said with a smile and walked away to go about his duties.

Seonghwa picked up the glass, swirling the amber-colored liquid before raising the glass to his lips and tilting his head back. The burn of the alcohol brought him out of his own swirling thoughts and he let out a small sigh as he set the glass down and waited, hoping you were on your way.

You glanced at your reflection for what felt like the millionth time since putting on your dress.

You’d opted for a white fitted one, which was a bold choice given that you were going to an Italian restaurant. You had gone back and forth on what to wear, trying to decide between a black dress and the white one you were currently sporting.

You checked the time and cursed. If you wanted to get to the restaurant on time, you needed to leave now. Rushing through your apartment, you grabbed your small clutch, putting your wallet, phone, and lip gloss into it and heading for the door where you slipped into your heels, a simple black heel with red bottoms. They had been a gift from your parents upon finishing school and you saved them for special occasions.

Once your coat was on, you headed out of your apartment, locking the door and heading down the stairs and out the front door.

You made the short walk to the bus station, opting to take the bus since you were wearing heels. The restaurant was only down the road from your building but you’d rather not kill your feet and thankfully, the bus showed up only moments later.

You boarded, pulling out your transport card and scanning it before picking a seat behind the driver and keeping your eyes down. You didn’t often take the bus but when you did, you always felt like a million eyes were on you. Of course this wasn’t true, no one was even paying any attention to you.

You really needed to stop reading and listening to r/no sleep and r/lets not meet stories.

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful and as the bus pulled up to the nearest stop, you stood up, briefly adjusting the hem of your dress and thanking the driver before heading for the steps, descending them carefully until your feet met the pavement.

The stop wasn’t too far from the restaurant but you still needed to walk to make it there. You felt mildly subconscious about the people you passed, but you knew that was your anxiety speaking, assuming people were looking at you like you were some kind of main character in a story.

‘This isn’t wattpad, Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘No one is even looking at you. Wait, no, that’s not true. That guy just looked.’

You offered a polite smile at the man you passed as he looked you up and down and you instantly regretted everything you’d ever done in your life. ‘Great, he probably thinks you’re some kind of streetwalker. Not that there’s anything wrong with prostitution—’

‘Oh shut up,’ another voice told you in the back of your mind.

You looked up as you approached the restaurant and opened the door, stepping into the warm, cozy setting, a low hum as people chatted at low volume over their meals, sharing wine, appetizers, and no doubt gossip. You looked around briefly, taking in the cream-colored wallpaper, dark warm wood floors, and round white cloth covered tables.

The hostess looked up at you, smiling. She was cute and short, her chocolate brown hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. She wore a black tee shirt with cap sleeves and black slacks. She smiled up at you as you pulled your phone out to check to see if Seonghwa had texted you.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked, drawing your attention away from your screen that had no missed notifications. 

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you explained as you moved closer to the host stand to allow people to pass you.

“Did you have a reservation?” the hostess asked. You noticed a black rectangular name tag with gold lettering that read her name was Jess. 

“Uh, I’m not sure, actually,” you said. “I have a date and he didn’t tell me if he made a reservation. Could I look around and see if he’s here already?” 

Jess smiled and nodded, returning her attention to the guest book in front of her as your eyes swept the room. It wasn’t large but it was certainly cozy. Three clear glass vases of different heights sat in the middle of each table with floating tealights. The overhead lighting was recessed into the ceiling and dimmed to create a more warm and inviting atmosphere.

Your eyes swept over the patrons until you reached the bar and your heart skipped a beat.

‘He’s here. He’s actually here.’

You noticed Seonghwa sitting at the bar, his jacket slung over the back of his stool as he nursed a class of what you could assume was whiskey based on the color. You turned to Jess. “I found him,” you announced softly. “He’s at the bar.”

Jess looked up and followed your line of sight before smiling. “Ahh, him,” she said, glancing at the guest book. “Your table should be ready in a few minutes,” she added, looking back up at you. 

“Thank you,” you said before making your way over to the bar, heart hammering in your chest with each stride.

Seonghwa had certainly dressed up, making you glad you had as well.  Most of the patrons in the restaurant had dressed up and you felt like you didn’t stand out too much. You cleared your throat as you stopped beside Seonghwa and he looked up.

His face lit up as he took in your form. “You made it,” he said as you set your bag on the bar and climbed up into the stool next to him. “What’re you drinking?” he asked. You glanced at the bar and took notice of all the alcohol bottles. 

“Oh it’s fine,” you finally said. “I don’t really drink,” you added.

Seonghwa smiled and nodded. “Well, if you’d like a non-alcoholic cocktail, order whatever you’d like,” he said as he lifted his glass, downing the rest of his drink. As he set the glass down and nodded to the bartender, you decided maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad. 

If anything, it might help you loosen up. Your shoulders felt tense and you knew it was because you were nervous. You were here, at this upscale Italian restaurant, with quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. For some reason, he’d asked you out. 

“Actually,” you started as the bartender set a new drink in front of your date. Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze.

“Maybe a glass of wine,” you suggested. Seonghwa looked up at the bartender. 

“What options do you have?” he asked. 

“Something red and semi-sweet,” you added. The bartender nodded and moved to get your glass. 

“You like semi-sweet reds?” Seonghwa asked, his lips pulled into an uneven smirk.

You nodded. “Yeah, I like a lot of dolce wines,” you admitted. “I don’t drink often, but when I do, it’s usually something like Roscato — rosso dolce,” you added. Seonghwa chuckled under his breath as he picked up his drink and took a sip. The bartender returned with your glass of wine and set it in front of you.

“Did I say something funny?” you asked, pulling the glass of wine closer. Seonghwa shook his head.

“No, not funny,” he explained. “It’s just a coincidence. A friend of mine asked me for the name of a wine we tried at a restaurant on my last trip to visit him and it was Roscato,” he continued, looking up to meet your gaze. “Rosso dolce,” he added.

Your lips parted and you let out a short, soft laugh. “Oh,” you replied as you raised your glass.

“That is a coincidence.”

An hour later, you were sitting at a small table in the corner by the last window, having shared some appetizer whose name you couldn’t pronounce and an empty bowl of spaghetti aglio e olio sitting before you as Seonghwa looked at the dessert menu. “Do you want to try the tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as you took a sip of your third glass of wine.

“Do you want to share it?” you offered. 

Seonghwa glanced up at you, an amused look in his eye, like some unspoken joke that only he seemed to be privy to. “Sure,” he finally answered, looking back down at the menu and allowing you to breathe easier.

The server finally returned and Seonghwa asked for a tiramisu to split as you finished your glass.

“Would you like more wine, miss?” the server asked and you contemplated for a moment and then nodded. 

Before the server could walk away, Seonghwa stopped him. “Could you bring another glass and the rest of the bottle, please?” he asked. The server nodded and walked away to put in your order.

You stared at him as he took a sip of his water. “The whole bottle?” you asked, biting back the urge to laugh. 

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m sure there’s only a couple more glasses left in that bottle anyway,” he said, the tone of his voice teasing.

“So,” you started, catching Seonghwa’s attention. “Flowers?” you asked.

He smiled, chuckling light as he shook his head.

“Don’t tell me you think it’s weird,” he said softly and your smile faded.

“What?” you asked softly. “No. I think it’s great actually.”

Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze. “It’s refreshing to meet a guy who’s into flowers. Not a lot of guys know the difference between the meaning of a red rose and a yellow one,” you added, smiling when Seonghwa stifled a laugh.

“Have you had a guy buy you yellow roses?” he asked incredulously. You nodded and he went into another fit of giggles. “Yellow roses… my god.”

When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat. “I’ve always loved flowers,” he explained.

“My parents loved gardening,” he continued. “It was a normal part of my childhood. I learned about caring for and growing flowers and the language of flowers at a young age. I’ve always been surrounded by gardening.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm as he spoke, a smile on your lips.

“When I was a teenager, I actually wanted to be an athlete,” he added, absentmindedly playing with the rim of his empty whiskey glass. “I fell in love with volleyball and wanted to pursue it in college. I actually even started pursuing volleyball at the collegiate level,” he continued.

A smile crossed his face as he reminisced. “I met some of my best friends playing volleyball,” he added.

His smile fell slightly, no doubt a painful memory coming to the forefront of his mind.

“And then my grandmother died.”

Your smile fell and you felt your heart tug. You reached across the table with your free hand, placing it over his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. Seonghwa smiled, moving his hand under yours to take your hand in his. 

“It’s been a long time,” he started. “But thank you.”

He held your hand as he continued his story.

“Her death made me rediscover a passion and appreciation for flowers,” he continued. “We had the most beautiful arrangements at her funeral. It made me think ‘I could do that. I could make floral arrangements.’ So, I did.”

“I went back to school, changed my major, and started taking flower arranging classes. I got my degree in business administration and started arranging flowers in my parents’ house until I had saved enough to purchase a store front.”

You watched him speak, a certain fondness in your heart as he talked so earnestly. “I also chose to move from the city and I found this place while looking, falling in love with the small town atmosphere. I love being able to walk to everything like I did in the city but there aren’t as many people here,” he added.

“I’ve been here and had my shop for four years now and I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life,” he finished, looking up at you with a smile on his face. 

You opened your mouth to respond but the server returned at that moment, setting a single slice of tiramisu down before he set down another wine glass and the opened bottle of wine. “Anything else I can get you?” he asked, looking between the two of you as Seonghwa lifted the bottle. 

“No, thank you,” Seonghwa answered, glancing at you as he started to pour some wine into the new glass with a wink.

The server took that as his cue to leave, allowing Seonghwa to sit up straight and pour wine into your glass. You thanked him and looked down at the dessert. “Have you ever had tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as he picked up his fork. You shook your head.

“Well, I’ve had those store made ones, nothing like this though,” you replied, picking up your own dessert fork. 

“Ladies first,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the cake. 

You glanced at it and back to him. “No, it’s okay, you can have the first bite,” you offered. Seonghwa chuckled lightly, taking his fork and slicing off a corner of the cake.

He brought it up and moved the fork towards you. “I insist,” he said softly. Your cheeks grew warm at the show of affection. You’d never been on a date where someone fed you and it felt exceedingly intimate.

And you liked it.

You parted your lips, allowing Seonghwa to guide the fork into your mouth. You’d had tiramisu before but this was unlike anything you’d had. It tasted like heaven. You swallowed, acutely aware of Seonghwa’s gaze on your face.

“It’s good,” you said softly. 

Seonghwa’s eyes darted down to your lips before he reached up with his free hand, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You had some cream,” he muttered, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking off the cream. The cream that had been on your lip.

You were suddenly overcome with the urge to smear cream all over your lips if it meant he would clean it off with his tongue.

‘Whoa,’ you thought to yourself as you took another bite of cake with your own fork. ‘Where did that come from?’ 

“Can I ask you something?” you said suddenly, looking up to meet Seonghwa’s curious gaze.

“Of course,” he said, licking his lips and taking a sip of his wine.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” you asked.

Seonghwa hesitated as he contemplated his answer before smiling, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“White lilies,” he answered. You felt your lips pull into a smile.

“White lilies?” you asked as you took another bite of the tiramisu. Seonghwa nodded, watching as you licked your lips. “Why?”

He set his fork down and leaned forward, resting his hand on his knuckles, fixing you with a knowing smirk only he seemed to be the only one in the know.

“I think white lilies are pretty. Lilies in general are very beautiful flowers. The splayed open petals, the way they curl back and the various colors. Tiger lilies are also very beautiful but there’s just something about the white ones,” he explained.

You took another bite. “What do white lilies mean,” you asked suddenly, looking up at him, “in the language of flowers?” 

Seonghwa fixed you with a peculiar look. His expression hardened slightly and you feared for a moment that you’d upset him but as quickly as his expression changed, it shifted again.

“Purity and chastity,” Seonghwa answered. Your cheeks grew warm under the gaze he was giving you. Something had snapped in him and the look he was giving you now was sending chills up your spine, a surge of arousal pulsing through your body and you had to physically force yourself to look away.

‘Purity and chastity, huh?’

Between the two of you, the cake vanished in no time and you polished off the bottle of wine not long after with small talk about the food, the setting, and work.

“So,” you said as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, Seonghwa following. You tied your coat closed and looked down the street towards the bus stop. “Wait,” you said, checking the time. ‘Oh. Oh no.’

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling your heart sink. 

“What?” Seonghwa asked. 

“I missed the last bus,” you said, mentally facepalming yourself for being so absentminded. 

“I could walk you,” Seonghwa offered. 

You smiled up at him. “It’s not that,” you explained, glancing down at your feet.

Seonghwa followed your line of sight and noticed the shoes. “Oh,” he said softly before looking around.

“Well, we could walk,” he suggested as he slipped his hands into his coat pocket. “And if your feet start to hurt, I could always carry you,” he added with a smile. You let out a laugh and looked down the street towards your place.

“Okay,” you said softly. Seonghwa offered his arm, keeping his hand in his pocket and you took the offer, slipping your hand between his arm and side and started to walk with him.

“I didn’t say it sooner,” he started as you walked, the sounds behind you starting to die down as you walked away from the line of shops. “But you look gorgeous.” 

Your cheeks started to heat up at his compliment and you nibbled on your bottom lip. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Silence fell over the two of you as you walked down the street, but it was a comfortable silence. You wondered what he was thinking and where things would go from here. Would he walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight? Would he want to come in? Did you want him to come in?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Seonghwa’s voice.

“How’re your feet doing?” he asked, his tone light.

You smiled, glancing up at him. “They’re okay,” you replied. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, slowing to a stop.

“I could still carry you.”

You laughed softly, lightly hitting his arm and continued walking. “Actually,” you said, stopping and letting go of his arm to lean down and carefully remove your shoes. “I’ll just go barefoot.”

Seonghwa chuckled as you collected your shoes and stood upright. Seonghwa held out his hand and your heart skipped a beat. “Let me carry them for you,” he said. You were about to protest but he took them anyway before offering his arm again.

You thanked him softly and the two of you continued walking. “Better?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, the cool pavement felt good against your feet that were starting to ache and burn from wearing the pumps. 

“Much,” you replied.

The walk didn’t take too long and soon, you were climbing the steps to your apartment building.

You turned to Seonghwa and smiled, taking back your shoes. “Thank you,” you said, carefully putting your shoes back on. Seonghwa smiled at you, hands tucked into his pockets. Silence filled the space between you before you spoke, apparently at the same time as Seonghwa.

“Do you want to come up?”

“I should probably get going.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. ‘Oh.’

“I’d love to,” Seonghwa started. “But I have a lot of stuff to get done tomorrow.”

You nodded, watching as his eyes dipped to look at your lips and back up. ‘Yes. Please just kiss me.’

You started to lean in only for Seonghwa to clear his throat. “I’ll wait for you to go in.”

‘...what?’

“O-okay,” you said softly, turning to put the code to your building in. Once the door was opened, you turned to Seonghwa. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” you asked softly. 

Seonghwa smiled. “Another time,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.

That seemed to calm your nerves, but you were still put off that he didn’t even want to kiss you goodnight. This was the first time a man hadn’t tried to get himself invited to your apartment.

“Well,” you hesitated. “Goodnight?”

Seonghwa nodded, a smile still on his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You made your way inside and up the steps to your door, unlocking and letting yourself in. As you removed your coat and shoes, you felt as if in a daze. You walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water, chugging half of it as you stared at the wall before turning to face the rest of your apartment, holding the half empty glass to your chest as the realization dawned on you.

“What the fuck?”

Seonghwa arrived home and immediately hopped into the shower to relieve the erection he’d been sporting for the last two hours since you walked into the restaurant. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him. Had you worn the white, form fitting dress on purpose?

If so, why? It was like you were unknowingly torturing him.

The way the dress hugged your curves, the hem reaching to the middle of your thighs. The sweetheart neckline accentuating your bust, showing off your collar. Multiple times Seonghwa had fought the urge to drag you to the bathroom and bend you over the sink, eager to stuff you full of his painfully hard cock.

He let out a hiss, dropping his head as his hand moved over his cock quickly, imagining you kneeling in front of him in that white dress. “Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm washing over him under the hot stream of water as he imagined releasing on your chest instead of on the shower wall.

He was growing tired of this. Coming home almost every day after interacting with you to relieve himself in the shower just so he could go about the rest of his evening. He was going to have to do something about it eventually. Whether that be finally sleeping with you or finding release elsewhere, he couldn’t fully satisfy his urges with masturbation alone anymore.

He quickly cleaned off the shower wall and himself before drying off and getting ready for bed.

As he lay in the sheets, he cursed himself for not taking your offer to go up to your place but he knew if he had, it might have been too much for you and he refused to do anything that would frighten you. No, if he was going to sleep with you, he was going to need to take it slowly.

You deserved much more than that.

Sleep didn’t come easily to him that night and he continued to toss and turn throughout the night until he finally settled into restless slumber.

The next morning, he had a plethora of chores to get done, trying to keep himself occupied as he got through them one at a time.

Each time your face invaded his thoughts, he cursed himself for saying no but ultimately he knew it was the right thing to do. Regardless of how much he wanted you, he wouldn’t give that easily into his primal desires. No, he had to do this the right way.

And he would.

——————————————————

Work for Seonghwa had gotten hectic over the next few days, booking events and preparing for a large wedding he’d booked a few months prior. He’d spent a lot of free time in the shop, cultivating the white flowers he had in stock and had been growing specifically for the wedding.

It was tedious work that kept his hands busy but his mind still wandered.

He hadn’t been in the cafe as often as before and he felt bad about that, hoping you weren’t taking it as a sign he wasn’t interested. He always made sure to let you know his interest was still there when he did visit and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way your face lit up every time you found him standing at your counter.

The innocence in your expression was the reason he was distancing himself but at the same time, it was what drew him in. The need to corrupt you and mold you to his fantasies. He knew it was wrong. You weren’t some art medium to bend and shape. You were a person with your own feelings and interests. He knew that and that’s why he had to be good.

He had to behave. 

For the fifth time that morning since visiting the cafe, he shoved thoughts of you aside as he worked, pruning and clipping. He couldn’t afford to be distracted with thoughts of you right now. He needed to fucking focus and he couldn’t do that when all he could think about was you on your back —

“Enough already!” he snapped, slamming down the shears in his hand against the work table. He stepped back, running his fingers through his hair and taking a few deep breaths.

Oh, you were going to be the death of him for sure.

It had been almost two weeks since your date with Seonghwa and the aftermath was nothing short of strange. Through text he seemed perfectly normal and when he came into the cafe, he was the same as he’d ever been, flirting with you every time.

At least up until a few days leading up to where you were now.

The last couple days, his texts fell off or were short and you feared the worst.

He’d taken you on a date and hated it.

You kept replaying the date in your mind and couldn’t exactly pinpoint any moment that might have put him off. Had you done something? Said something?

As you mulled over everything, it dawned on you that whatever it was, it had to have happened after you left the restaurant. He wouldn’t have fed you like that if he wasn’t into you, right? Like, not everyone did shit like that. 

You thought maybe you taking your shoes off was what turned him off but then he offered to carry your shoes like some lead actor in a Korean drama. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you still? So from that to reaching your door, what could have happened?

You scribbled on a blank notepad as you thought over it again and again until your brain hurt and you slammed the pen on your desk. You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes until stars appeared behind your eyelids.

You groaned loudly and let out a frustrated growl.

“It just doesn’t make any sense!” you hissed, dropping your hands into your lap and looked down at your desk, blinking away the stars. You glanced at the clock beside you that read 12:01 am and decided to call it a night and pushed your chair back. “Fuck this,” you grumbled as you turned off the desk light and made your way to your bedroom.

You had work in the morning and you couldn’t spend any more time on this tonight.

Letting out a sigh, you looked across the small square at the flower shop. The open sign was off, indicating that the show wasn’t open which was unusual for Seonghwa. He rarely ever closed the shop and you feared that maybe he might be sick or even worse. Unfortunately, you were currently on the clock and couldn’t leave the shop. Not to mention it was busier than one person could handle so you really couldn’t leave, even for a short break to check the shop and see how Seonghwa was doing.

“Y/N?” a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

You turned to your co-worker, an apologetic smile on your face. “Sorry, Addie, I’m really out of it today.” Addie gave you a small smile, knowing you weren’t normally like this and for you to be distracted, something really had to be wrong.

“You know,” she said softly, approaching you as she stopped sweeping. “If something is bothering you, you know you can talk to me.” 

You offered as sincere a smile as you could muster. “Thanks, Addie,” you replied. “I’m okay though. Just lost in thought is all.”

You’d die before you told her what those thoughts were.

Sure, you were partially worried about Seonghwa but part of you was lingering on what could have happened the other day. The night after your date. The night you had expected him to come into your place but instead he left you standing on your front step with not even a kiss goodbye. You had spent part of the night wondering if you’d done something wrong. The other part of the night you had spent wondering what might have happened had Seonghwa kissed you and came in like you planned on inviting him to do.

To say you wanted him was a downright understatement. You needed him. There was just something so incredibly sexy about him. Something romantic as well, and as demonstrated by the date you shared. But under all of the sweetness, the sex appeal, there was something more dangerous and yet you couldn’t put your finger on it exactly. You just knew Seonghwa was everything and more you wanted in a man and you needed him in the worst way possible.

To distract yourself, you chose to take orders while Addie fulfilled them. Talking to the customers and ringing up their orders didn’t take much brain power but it still kept your mind from wandering, especially at work which was a dangerous combination when the object of your current fantasies was across the square in his closed shop, working diligently on a large order.

Seonghwa had been working tirelessly on this order for a wedding. It was coming up, he’d booked the order months ago as was common practice for weddings. He had centerpieces, bouquets, and other floral decorations and arrangements to make and it had been taking up most of his time since the date which allowed him the time to focus on something other than his intense primal desire to bend you over the counter of his shop and rail you into next week.

Ever since leaving you on the doorstep to your place without even a goodnight kiss, he’d been beating himself up but he knew that if he had kissed you, it would have led to more and while he did want that, god did he want that, he didn’t want to scare you away. He wanted — no — he needed you in the worst ways possible but he couldn’t scare you off like that. Not when he wanted to do things to you he only ever dreamt of and dream he did.

That night and almost every night since, he’s dreamt up different ways to take you. In his shop, in the cafe when all others have gone home for the night, in his bed, in his kitchen, on the counter, everywhere. All he could think of was you, you, you. In every position possible. On your back, on your knees, on your stomach. He wanted to corrupt you so badly that you’d never want to be with another person but him.

It invaded his every waking moment and sometimes even work couldn’t stop the fantasies.

He was a man obsessed and his obsession could scare you away and he didn’t want that. You deserved more. You deserved to be courted, properly, but goddamnit all if he didn’t want to say fuck the rules, and just do what he wanted but you were far too precious. Too pure. His white lily.

He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

He would do this the right way. He had to.

Seonghwa cursed as he poked his finger with yet another boutonniere pin, dropping the small bundle of flowers onto the work table and moving to clean the prick which started bleeding. These damn things would be the end of him. Why couldn’t he just use clips instead of fucking straight pins? ‘Outrageous.’ 

Once he cleaned the tip of his finger and it had stopped bleeding, he put a bandaid on it. He had twelve of these damn things to make. Who the hell has twelve groomsmen? At least the corsages were easy. Seonghwa picked up the boutonniere and started working again, cursing yet again when he stabbed himself. He groaned loudly, grateful he’d closed the shop for a few days to work on this order.

It was going to be a long night.

You called out a goodbye to your coworker as you headed out the front door. As you entered the mainly empty courtyard, you chanced a glance over at the floral shop. A single light from the back was flooding into the shop but the open sign remained flipped, as it had been all day.

‘So he is in there,’ you thought as you hiked the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, trying not to wallow in the doubt and self-pity swirling in the pit of your stomach. Why hasn't he answered your texts? You were certain he’d seen them or at least you hoped he had. His read receipts were off so you couldn’t be exactly sure if he had seen them.

The walk home took longer than usual due to your preoccupied state. You’d almost run into someone at least three times, muttering an apology before hurrying on your way. Thankfully you made it home without further incident. Upon looking at the stoop to your front door, memories of that night came flooding back, when Seonghwa took you on what was probably the nicest date you’d ever been on only to leave you hanging at your front door.

As you climbed the steps, you fished out your keys and unlocked the door, letting yourself in. Stepping over the mail sitting on your welcome rug, you shut the door, locked it, and removed your shoes before bending down and grabbing the pile of envelopes.

You shuffled through them as you stood by the door before removing your coat, hanging it up and heading into the kitchen where you set your bag and keys on the counter and continued to look through your mail. Most of it was bills, advertisements, and a few card companies offering their services that you immediately tossed in the trash bin until a plain white envelope with a noticeable handwritten script caught your attention.

You set the rest of the mail down and looked over the one in your hands. Your name was written on the front but nothing else. No address and more importantly no return sender was listed. You hesitated, briefly remembering about mail bombs but snorted, amused at yourself for even considering a notion.

Why would someone send you a bomb?

You grabbed a knife from the nearby block and slit open the envelope, setting the knife on the counter and pulling out a few folded sheets of paper from inside. There weren't many pages, maybe just a few, but you opened them, reading the first line of the first page and felt your heart skip a beat.

Your breaths came out in ragged pants as you read through the letter, rereading a couple parts. Even though it was just words on paper, you could imagine the depth of his longing as he wrote the words. You let out a sigh of relief. He was just busy with work but he also didn’t want to scare you off, whatever that meant. 

It made you wonder just what he could possibly mean. 

‘I can be kind of intense at times.’ Intense how?

You carefully folded up the letter and placed the pages back into the envelope and set it down on the counter. “Saturday,” you whispered, checking the calendar hanging on the wall above your trash bin. That was only a few days away. Should you tell him you got his letter? Should you just show up?

You contemplated with yourself, the soft ticking of the clock on your wall punctuating the silence. You grabbed your bag, dug for your phone and pulled the device out, unlocking the screen and pulling up your message thread with Seonghwa.

You nibbled at your bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth and mulling over what to say before settling with a simple text.

You: I got your letter. I agree, I think we should talk face to face.

You pressed send before sending another one immediately after.

You: I’ll see you Saturday

You pressed send and set your phone down, breathing heavily as you stared at the screen.

The typing indicator appeared quickly and a reply came through just as fast. You peered down at the phone, reading the message Seonghwa had sent back.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

When Seonghwa had dropped the unmarked letter through your mail slot the other morning, he never expected you to text him though he wasn’t complaining. At least he knew he hadn’t scared you off with the letter or with his words. He now only had to face you. He’d finished the last of the floral arrangements for the wedding last night and was currently in the van, making his way to the venue across town.

This wedding was a huge event. It was being held at an old rustic farm turned into an event venue. The roads were paved up until the turn onto the dirt road. Thankfully Seonghwa was only providing the flowers and not the containers. The venue had all of that.

Turning off the dirty farm road and onto the paved winding driveway made him breathe a little easier as he checked the time 11:41 am. He was well on time and would have from now until three to help set up and get all the arrangements in their designated vases and places.

Afterwards, he could focus on what he wanted to say to you on the drive back. 

The farmhouse came into view and Seonghwa let out a small huff. It was much prettier in person than it had been on the website. The house itself was an off white color with dark midnight blue shutters. The front door was the same dark blue with a porch wrapping around the bottom level.

The entire house was three levels. All the windows looked like the original ones and it was clear to him that someone had spent a lot of time and money to renovate this place, putting a lot of care into it. He continued up the winding driveway, noticing the white barn standing some yards from the main house. There were white and silver balloons lining the last 20 or so feet of the drive.

Seonghwa carefully pulled up beside the house and parked the van before opening the door and getting out. He saw a lot of people working, carrying tables, chairs, bundles of fabric with silk bows. Some were dressed in uniforms and some in dresses and button downs with slacks. Seonghwa looked around for someone in charge before he saw a woman carrying a clipboard and directing three people carrying a large round table.

He approached her, calling out and catching her attention. She was a shorter woman, maybe around his mother’s age. She wore a nice light pink dress suit and wore black thin framed glasses. She eyed him up and down, lifting her glasses to get a better look.

“Can I help you?” she asked, polite but clearly in a hurry. 

“I’m the florist,” Seonghwa announced. “I have the arrangements and just need to know where to go. 

The look on her face shifted from annoyed to beaming in a split second and it took all of Seonghwa’s willpower not to burst into laughter.

“Oh perfect, you’re right on time!” she exclaimed. “We’re setting the ceremony up in the house.”

Seonghwa nodded and moved to follow her so she could show him exactly where everything went. She pointed at the planters marking the end of the aisle where the bride would enter. 

“And then we have a fridge to keep the pieces for the reception fresh,” she added pointing to the kitchen area. “Do you need assistance?” she asked, turning to look up at him. 

Seonghwa nodded. “It’s just me, so any help would be greatly appreciated.” The woman, who Seonghwa assumed to be the planner, called over to two people, beckoning them over. 

“Would you please help this young man with the flowers,” she asked. The two nodded and followed Seonghwa out to the van. 

“I have everything labeled,” Seonghwa explained as he fished his keys out. “Centerpieces, boutonnieres, corsages, bouquets, and the large pieces are for the planters inside,” he continued as they reached the back of the van and he unlocked the doors.

Unloading the flowers wasn’t an arduous task especially since Seonghwa took it upon himself to label everything. It was just a matter of moving them inside and then separating the floral arrangements. “Here is the bride’s bouquet,” he said, unwrapping the plastic from the stems and turning to the planner. 

“I have twelve more,” he added, nodding towards the counter where twelve smaller bouquets lay alongside the corsages. 

“And the boutonnieres?” the planner asked as she scribbled on her clipboard. 

“All here,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the counter. “Twelve boutonnieres with pins. Stabbed myself a fair bit making those,” he added with a chuckle. The woman did not laugh.

‘Tough crowd.’

Once everything was accounted for, Seonghwa helped set up the arrangements for the ceremony, placing the large bouquets in the planters, delivering the bouquets and corsages to the bridal suite, accepting the compliments from the bridesmaids and bride herself who was in stark contrast from the planner, extremely sweet and thankful. The last duty he had was to deliver the boutonnieres to the groomsmen and groom which was a far more lackluster affair than delivering to the bridal suite.

Once he was done, he started down the steps and over to the planner to secure the final payment. He’d agreed to take the payment in installments. First was the deposit followed by the first payment and now he needed the final payment. He cleared his throat as she finished speaking with one of the venue owners and she turned to him. “All flowers accounted for and delivered,” he said softly. The wedding planner stared at him blankly before he sighed.

“The final payment?” he said in a hushed voice. The planner’s eyes widened before she nodded. 

“Right,” she said quietly. “Of course.” 

She beckoned him to follow her and led him through the house and out one of the many side doors. Seonghwa followed her down the steps and over towards the barn where a man in a suit stood, talking to a few others.

The planner waved him over and discussed the topic of payment and the man nodded, pulling out his wallet. Seonghwa thanked him as the last installment was made and thanked the planner as they walked back towards the house. With his job done, Seonghwa got back in the van, taking a quick look behind to make sure nothing got left before backing up and making his way back to the dirt road.

He had about an hour until he got back to town and another 20 before he got to the shop. He checked the clock on the dash to see the time was now 2:30 pm. Time sure does fly. 

Now it was just him and his thoughts until then.

You glanced at your watch. It was 4:07 pm and Seonghwa was nowhere to be found. It was only seven minutes past four so you weren’t going to just turn around and go home. You’d give him another few minutes before you called it.

He had said any time after four and it was after four. You pulled out your phone to see if he’d called and you maybe missed it but there was nothing. No calls, no texts except the one from the other day. The day you’d gotten the letter.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

You sighed as a breeze blew through the square, pulling your coat tighter around your body. ‘Come on, Seonghwa,’ you thought as you looked around. You glanced down, inspecting your outfit as a leaf landed on your knee, clinging to the material of your stocking.

It had been unseasonably cold for spring and all leaves and flowers that have been trying to grow have had a hard time braving the elements as winter tried to hold on. New green leaves quickly withered and died, the temperatures not staying warm long enough to nurture the growth.

Cherry blossoms hadn’t even sprouted due to the cooler temperatures and rainy weather. Spring was always among your favorite times of the year but sometimes, it just didn’t feel like spring and felt more like autumn or even winter at times.

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door next to where you were sitting opened, the bell ringing and making you jump and turn to find Seonghwa looking at you with as much surprise as you felt. You had expected him to come to the front door, not from inside the store. 

“Sorry,” he said immediately as you stood up, smoothing down your skirt. “Got held up by a sheep jam of all things,” he added with a smirk before noticing your cold-tinged face, his smile immediately falling. “Oh, have you been waiting long?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. 

‘Liar. It’s been almost 30 minutes.’ 

Seonghwa checked his watch and then looked up and smiled at you. 

“Here,” he said softly, gesturing for you to enter.

You crossed the threshold, the warmth of the shop offering you sanctuary from the plummeting temperatures. Seonghwa shut the door, turning the lock in place before turning to look at you. “So you, uh, got my letter?” he asked as he led the way through the shop. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, following him into the backroom of the shop. You’d never seen this part of his shop before and it was like something out of a romance movie.

The room was rectangular with a short wall against the shop. The walls were lined with tiered planter boxes, built into the wooden wall, an array of flowers growing in each box, various colors and species. The back wall faced the forested area behind the shops. Glass windows dominated the wall allowing in as much natural light as possible.

In the middle of the room stood a butcher block work table with various tools for cutting, pruning, gardening, and what you assumed was flower arranging. The wall that the room shared with the main shop room had built-in-storage drawers under another flat wooden surface with various fertilizers, soil bags, and gardening solutions.

Hanging up next to the work table by the doorway was a garden hose, coiled and hanging neatly on its hanger, one end connected to a spigot and the other with a hose attachment. Seonghwa walked over to the work table in the center of the room and started cleaning up.

“I had some last minute adjustments to make before I delivered the order for the wedding,” he explained as he used a small hand brush to sweep any dirt, petals, and other debris off the table and onto the floor. 

“I didn’t have a chance to clean up before I left, so I just want to get this swept up and then we can talk, if that’s okay?” he asked, glancing up at you as you removed your coat and hung it along with your bag up by the door next to his.

“I don’t mind,” you said as you grabbed a broom and walked over. “As long as you let me help you.”

Seonghwa gave you a soft smile and nodded, silently thanking you as you started to sweep up, collecting all the dirt, petals, leaves, and other debris from around the room while he gathered his tools, cleaned them and put them away. You opened the back door and brushed all the debris out the back. It was all dirt, petals, leaves, and twigs, so it should go back to nature, right?

When you shut the door, Seonghwa was wiping down the wooden work table surface. You returned the broom back to its spot by the door and turned to Seonghwa, your hand lingering on the mop. “Do you need to mop as well?” Seonghwa looked up at you and shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I do all my deep cleaning on Mondays,” he explained as he carried the rag over to a small hamper and dropped it in. 

“So,” he said, turning to you. “I guess we should talk.” 

You nodded, watching as he washed his hands at the small sink next to the built-in work table.

“You said in your letter,” you started, reaching into your bag and pulling out the envelope, not noticing the look of surprise on Seonghwa’s face. 

“You brought it with you?” he asked and you looked up as you pulled the pages out. 

“I wanted to reference it directly instead of relying on my memory,” you answered as you opened the letter and cleared your throat.

“That you wanted to clear up your emotions,” you started, glancing at the first page and then back up at Seonghwa as he turned to lean against the work table, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yet, it doesn’t really feel like it’s cleared up at all,” you said, looking back down.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa asked, drawing your attention back to him. “I think I made them perfectly clear, baeknari,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d taken to calling you. Glancing down quickly, you re-read through part of the first page.

“I said that I had a great time with you,” Seonghwa started when you didn’t speak again. “I also recall stating that I like you far more than you seem to think,” he added with a smirk. You swallowed thickly. “And I’m pretty sure I also said that I think you underestimate my attraction to you,” he continued.

You glanced up at him. “What do you mean by that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Seonghwa merely smiled. 

“Just that. It’s more than a simple attraction, my dear,” he answered. “I’m not just attracted to you.” Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. ‘More than attraction?’

“You also said you think about me more than any man would normally admit,” you said, trying to avoid the look Seonghwa was giving you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting over your skin under your sweater despite the warmth of the greenhouse.

“I do,” Seonghwa admitted. You glanced up at him. 

“How so?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. 

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think about you almost all the time,” he admitted, shocking you. “I think about you when I wake up. I think about you when I come to work and I see the cafe. Every time I look out the shop window and see that cafe, I think about you,” he continued.

“I think about you when I go home. I think about you when I go to bed. You occupy every thought.”

Your heart had started to race, beating erratically in your chest as he spoke.

“I think about you when I eat breakfast. And lunch. And dinner,” he continued, looking up to meet your eyes. His heated gaze sent a surge of arousal through your body. It was such a dark look. Like prey caught in the gaze of a predator. It was almost primal.

“I think about you when I’m driving; when I’m working…” he trailed off, keeping your gaze locked in his.

“When I shower.”

That seemed to do it, a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, arousal pooling in your panties.

“Wh-when you shower?” you asked, voice cracking slightly. Seonghwa nodded wordlessly.

“I told you,” he started. “I think about you all the time. More than could be considered normal. You shouldn’t occupy my every waking thought and yet you do. Maybe I’m obsessed, but it’s not normal to think about someone as much as I think about you.”

“Obsessed?” you whispered, drawing his attention. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, shifting his weight again, moving his hands to rest against the edge of the counter. “I know what’s acceptable and what’s not. And I would never do anything to purposely make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

You glanced down at the letter in your hand, scanning the words on the sheet before looking back up. 

“You said you can’t write about the things you think about,” you started. Seonghwa clicked his tongue, standing up and walking over to take the sheet. 

“No,” he said softly. “I corrected myself and said I shouldn’t write them,” he explained. 

“I can definitely write them down,” he continued, handing the sheet back to you. He moved back over to the work table, putting space between the two of you.

“But you’d prefer to say them in person?” you added, looking back up at him. Seonghwa nodded.

“I do want to say them. I want to tell you everything I think of and everything I want to do to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, making a small sound which Seonghwa noticed. You busied yourself with his letter, changing the page to scan the next sheet. “You said you didn’t kiss me because if you had, then you ‘wouldn’t have been able to stop’,” you read. 

“Wouldn’t have been able to stop what?”

Seonghwa tilted his head, fixing you with a peculiar look. “Myself, angel. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself,” he answered. 

“From what?” you whispered, feeling heat rising to your cheeks. You weren’t dumb. You had an idea of what Seonghwa meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“From following you into your house and doing everything I’ve imagined doing,” he replied, that dark look in his eyes back as he spoke. 

“And what do you imagine doing to me?” you asked softly. Seonghwa’s lips twitched, fighting a smirk before he cleared his throat.

“Would you like me to tell you,” he asked, looking down at the table and back. “Or would you like me to show you?”

You were at a crossroads. If you accepted his offer, it would probably lead to sex which you weren’t opposed to. If you declined, where would that lead? Would you leave and never speak to him again? 

You knew you wanted Seonghwa. He was kind, passionate, ambitious, generous, intelligent, witty, and insanely attractive. You wanted him so bad. So who were you to deny yourself?

Your eyes scanned the letter one last time before folding it, placing the sheets back in the envelope and sliding the letter back into your purse before crossing the room, sliding between Seonghwa and the work table before looking up to meet his gaze.

“You said you’re afraid of scaring me off,” you started. “Is that right?”

Seonghwa nodded, you noticed how he swallowed. “Why would I be scared?” you asked softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. Seonghwa leaned into your touch, lips parting as a soft sigh escaped him. Your thumb moved, brushing over his bottom lip.

“Because,” he started, his breath hot against your skin. “I can be kind of—”

“Intense?” you asked, smiling when he nodded. “What makes you think that would scare me?”

Without warning, Seonghwa’s hands found purchase on your hips, pushing you against the edge of the work table. “I’m not a very sweet or soft lover,” he murmured against your hand. “I’m rough, hard,” he continued, one hand grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Unforgiving.”

You brought your free hand up to run your fingers through his hair before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging sharply. “And who said I am?” you asked softly, enjoying the way he moaned against your hand. He let go of your wrist, fingers skimming your neck lightly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten,” he murmured, eyes scanning up to meet your gaze. “Keep this up and I’ll take you right here.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, forcing his hand against your throat. “Do it, then,” you whispered. Seonghwa hesitated, eyes searching your face. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice quiet but clear.

“I said do it,” you repeated. “Take me, Seonghwa. I’m yours. I always was.”

The next moment, Seonghwa’s lips crashed against yours, one hand firmly on your hip, the other moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips parted, tongue quickly slipping into your mouth, moving against yours. You whimpered against his lips, his mouth swallowing it eagerly.

“God I would love to take you home,” Seonghwa murmured against your lips, hand still on the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Lay you down in my bed and take my time with you like you deserve.” 

You felt his other hand slide down your hip to your thigh. “So why don’t you?” you asked, hands moving up his chest to hold onto his shoulders.

“Because,” he started, gripping your thigh and hiking your knee up to his waist. He guided you to lay back on the work table. 

“I’m an impatient man,” he continued, his hand sliding down the outside of your thigh to your ass. “And I told you I’m a rough, unforgiving lover.”

You felt him roll his hips into yours grinding his erection into your soaked panties, giving you some slight friction against your aching clit. “And you told me to take you right here,” he added, slowly lowering your head to the work table, his hand moving around to ghost over your throat before sliding down your chest, not giving it much attention as he continued to move it lower until he reached the hem of your sweater. 

“As cute as this is,” he murmured, pulling at your top. “It needs to come off.”

You sat up, grabbing the hem of your sweater and pulling it up over your head and dropping it on the table. Underneath you wore a simple ribbed white turtleneck top with short sleeves tucked into your skirt. Seonghwa grabbed at your shirt, leaning over to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

He pushed it up past your chest, hands cupping your breasts firmly but gently. “Take it off,” he ordered. You raised yourself up from the surface of the table to pull the shirt off, letting it fall wherever you dropped it. You were left in your skirt and a lacy lavender bralette with straps crossing over your chest. 

Seonghwa let out a sigh as he took in your form, eyes shining with lust and another emotion you couldn’t exactly place. You suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze and moved your hands to cover yourself but he stopped you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your hands down against the wood.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “Don’t you cover yourself. I’ve wondered for so long what kind of lingerie you wear and to see it now? Don’t you dare hide it from me.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. You sighed out as he left a trail of kisses from your lips across your cheek and down the side of your neck, stopping to nip at the skin above your pulse point.

You let out a moan as his teeth grazed your skin. Even if a mark did or didn’t form, you’d still know he was there. Seonghwa continued down your neck, leaving love bites in his wake until he reached your chest. “I’d love to sit here and admire you all night in this,” he said softly, fingers skimming the delicate lace of your bralette. “But I really want to take it off,” he continued.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he nuzzled your sternum, hands sliding down to your waist. “Take it off,” you whispered. Seonghwa lifted his head to meet your gaze. He’d barely done anything to you but he looked like he was intoxicated. Drunk off touching you.

“You want me to do that, blossom?” he asked softly. “You want me to undress you?” 

You nodded shyly, heat rising to your cheeks as he reached up to stroke your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips like yours had earlier and without prompting, you parted your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking. Seonghwa let out a groan, his free hand fumbling with the clasp on the front of your bralette and managing to undo it.

Keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulled you to sit up, pushing the bralette off you and letting it fall onto the wooden surface of the table. You swirled your tongue around his thumb and Seonghwa pulled his hand back before cupping your jaw. “Wanna show me what else you can do with that mouth, sweetheart?” You nodded wordlessly as he helped you down from the table.

“On your knees then, Kitten.”

You slowly lowered yourself down, keeping your eyes on his face. Seonghwa ran his fingers through his hair before cupping your chin. “Have you ever done this before?” 

You nodded slowly. “Once,” you answered. “I’ll do my best though.” Seonghwa let out a groan before squeezing your chin gently.

“Open your mouth, blossom,” he ordered, moving his hands to undo his belt and pants as you kneeled there, sitting on your heels. “Tongue out,” he ordered as he moved slowly, sliding his hand into his underwear where your eyes couldn’t see. His hand moved inside his boxers at the sight of you on your knees for him.

“Come here,” he said breathlessly. You raised yourself up off your heels, moving your hands up his thighs. Seonghwa pushed his pants and underwear down just enough to pull his cock free, allowing you to see it. It was larger than you expected but it didn’t look like it would hurt to take.

The head was bulbous, tip slightly red with a bead of precum.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Seonghwa said, drawing your attention away from his cock. You opened your mouth again. “Tongue,” he added and you obliged, letting your tongue fall from your mouth to make space. “Tap my thigh once for yes and twice if it’s too much or you want to stop, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded and waited as he guided the head to your mouth, letting it rest against your tongue. 

It was salty, no doubt from the precum, as he rubbed the head against your tongue before pushing further into your mouth, inhaling sharply as his cock entered your mouth, your tongue brushing against the underside. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructed. You did as he said and once you’d taken a deep breath, Seonghwa pushed the rest of his cock in until it reached the back of your mouth, stopping just before it entered your throat.

“I’m gonna guide your head, okay?” Seonghwa asked. You tapped his thigh to let him know you were fine. Seonghwa guided your head, making you pull back before pulling you forward. He set a steady pace, making sure to stop before you gagged.

After a couple moments, you didn’t need his guidance and started moving on your own, keeping your hands on his thighs, nails raking over the material of his pants. “That’s it, kitten. Keep going,” he muttered, gently stroking your hair. “Just like that.”

You moaned, taking him as far into your mouth as you could. You noticed how his hips started to follow your mouth, shallowly thrusting. “Hold still,” he instructed, placing his hand on the back of your head. He gave you a tentative thrust, gauging your gag reflex. He gave you another, and then another, setting a steady pace of shallow thrusts.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your mouth with a lewd wet sound almost like a gag but you didn’t gag. He was testing your limits and it seemed he could hit the back of your mouth without a reaction. You closed your eyes, breathing through your nose as best as you could with each thrust into your mouth. Seonghwa let out a strained grunt and thrust, hard, forcing his cock into your throat briefly making you gag and your body react violently.

He pulled back, as you gasped, coughing. Your cheeks were stained with tears, drool running down your chin and onto your chest. In every sense of the word, you were a mess but to Seonghwa you were a vision. He carefully pulled you to your feet, guiding you back onto the table before flipping your skirt up, exposing your soiled underwear. He tsked softly, looking up at you.

“How long have you been this wet, sweetheart?” he asked, meeting your gaze.

“A while,” you whispered. Seonghwa sighed and quickly removed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket as he pulled his underwear up to cover his cock. 

“You were so good for me,” he murmured, parting your thighs to look down at your sex, arousal smeared all over your lips.

“Now I’ll be good for you,” he added. You propped yourself up to watch as he lowered his head, pressing wet, open mouth kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping to sink his teeth into your soft skin. You let out a breathy whine as he skipped over your core, kissing up the inside of your other thigh and biting into your skin, leaving small imprints that would eventually fade.

“Give me your hand, blossom,” he said, holding his hand out, palm up. You placed your hand in his and watched curiously as he guided your hand to his head. “You might want to hold on,” he said with a smirk before dipping his head, spreading your thighs and licking slowly up your slit, pressing his tongue past your folds and finding your clit with relative ease.

Your fingers immediately curled into his hair as you felt some mild relief but as soon as Seonghwa got a taste, it was like a switch was flipped. His fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them parted as he lapped at your cunt greedily, like it was the last meal he’d ever have.

The tip of his tongue slipped into your entrance briefly before gliding back up to tease your clit. You raised your head, propping yourself up on one elbow, keeping a firm grip on his hair and let out a moan when you met his gaze. He flattened his tongue, moving his head from side to side slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he did. 

Your thighs tried to close but he held them open with a vice like grip. You could feel your orgasm building, bubbling up like carbonation in a bottle of soda that had been shaken up. But before it could explode, Seonghwa pulled back, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, Kitten,” he breathed, leaning over your body, leaving wet kisses up your stomach, stopping at your chest to brush his lips over one of your nipples before parting his lips and swirling his tongue around it. He sucked lightly, letting it fall from his mouth before continuing, kissing up your chest and your neck. “When you cum for me for the first time, it’s going to be around my cock,” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath making your shiver.

You heard him messing with his pants, pushing them back down and pulling his cock free.

“I don’t have any condoms here,” he muttered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I don’t normally fuck pretty little baristas in the backroom of my shop,” he added, a smirk in his tone. 

“So I’m special?” you whispered, breathlessly as he pressed the head of his cock against your leaking entrance. 

“Oh baby, you’re so much more than just special,” he murmured as he rutted against you.

“Such a pretty little thing. So sweet, and not nearly as innocent as I thought,” he added as the underside of his cock rubbed against your clit. “Will you let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Or are you too innocent for that? Have you ever been fucked raw?”

You shook your head. “No, never,” you answered. “Never been fucked raw.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his hot breath tickling your neck. “So I’m the first? You have no idea how happy that makes me. You’ll let me be the first, right? You’ll let me fuck you raw, won’t you?”

You nodded fervently, the tip of his cock bumping your clit and making you gasp. “Yes, Seonghwa, please. Take me, please. Fuck me please, please,” you pleaded. Seonghwa let out a groan as he slowed his pace, guiding the head of his cock to your hole and pushing it in slowly.

“Oh you really want this,” he commented, watching his cock disappear inside you. “Sucked my cock in so hungrily. What a greedy little cunt you have,” he murmured, sheathing himself in one fluid motion and rocking your body against the wooden table. 

“Oh fuck, Hwa!” you gasped, one hand gripping the table edge above your head, the other grabbing his shoulder. You were half naked under him and other than his pants being undone and pushed halfway down his thighs, Seonghwa was still fully dressed.

Seonghwa cupped your jaw, squishing your cheeks slightly. “What a dirty fucking mouth you have,” he growled, his hips moving, pulling back and snapping forward, thrusting into you harshly. “Open your mouth, Kitten,” you parted your lips, obeying him. Seonghwa stilled his hips for just a moment, spitting into your mouth before resuming his punishing pace.

The table creaked under you with each thrust, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with the sounds of his cock plunging in and out of your wet hole. Heat spread from your cheeks to your neck and chest as your orgasm approached rapidly. 

“Are you gonna cum already, Blossom? I’ve barely even fucked you properly,” he chuckled, his tone mocking instead of sweet which you should have expected. He said he was an unforgiving lover.

You whimpered, hand moving up into his hair and gripping it tightly. “Pull my hair again baby and I’ll teach you what happens when you can’t behave,” he growled, one hand moving to your throat and pinning you down against the table. 

“What will you do?” you challenged.

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, hips snapping against you and rocking the whole table. “Turn you over and pin you down, fuck you until you full of nothing but my cum. Would you like that, petal? You want to be fucked full of my cum until it drips down your legs like a dirty little cumslut?”

You moaned, walls fluttering around his cock as your orgasm drew nearer. “Oh, that does it for you, does it? Sweet little Y/N, my own little lily, likes being called a cumslut?” Seonghwa teased, making you moan again as his grip on your throat tightened, restricting the flow of your blood but not your oxygen.

“Likes being choked, likes it when I spit into her mouth, likes being fucked like a bitch in heat in the backroom of my flower shop, you really aren’t as innocent as you seem,” he muttered, his hips stuttering momentarily.

“Are you like this with all the guys?” he asked, tightening his grip on your throat. You whimpered, thighs trying to close as his free hand moved, thumb brushing over your clit to send you hurtling towards the edge. “Do you let all the guys have you like this?”

You shook your head, gripping his wrist as the corners of your eyes burned with unshed tears. It felt so fucking good but you were teetering on the edge, unable to full cum as his thumb stopped rubbing your clit and he alternated to giving you shallow thrusts that had you standing on the precipice.

“No!” you gasped. “No one else,” you added. “Only you. No one else has ever filled me up. You’re the first. No one else can. I’m yours!” Your words had the intended effect of Seonghwa and he resumed ramming into you, resting his forehead against yours as he muttered he was close.

“Where do you want it?” he asked quickly, hips faltering slightly. “Inside me, Seonghwa, please. Cum inside me,” you gasped. Seonghwa growled, letting go of your throat in favor of cradling your head as his thrusts grew more erratic, sloppier, his moans coming out in pitched whines until he gave you one final thrust, tipping you over the edge, your thighs shaking as your walls clenched around his cock. You clawed at his shirt, whimpering as he fucked his cum into you weakly until his hips stilled, face buried in the crook of your neck as you both basked in the aftermath of your highs.

You weren’t sure how long it took but as you came down, the realization that you were half naked on Seonghwa’s work table in the backroom of his floral shop dawned on you and you cleared your throat, licking your dry lips, and tried to get his attention.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. He hummed in response, pressing a few short kisses to your neck. “I’m feeling kind of exposed here,” you added. 

Seonghwa lifted his head and let out a huff of air before pushing himself up. His hair was a mess, lips red and swollen from your kisses, his cheeks were pink from exertion. “Shit, let me uh…” he trailed off as he looked around. “Stay right there.”

He carefully pulled his cock free, wincing slightly as he tucked himself back in his pants and rushed over to the drawers on the inside wall. He looked through them quickly and returned with a clean cloth and carefully wiped your skin, the insides of your thighs, your sex and the edge of the table under you.

He dashed around, collecting your clothing and shook them before helping you back into your bralette, top and sweater. “Where are my panties?” you asked, looking around as Seonghwa zipped and buttoned his pants. “Oh,” he said softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling your panties out, unwading them and helping you into them.

“Just until we get you home,” he added as he redid his belt and looked up at you. He reached up, brushing your bottom lip. “Or we can go back to mine,” he offered. You smiled as he leaned in, taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly, in high contrast from the pounding he just gave you.

“We can also just go back to mine. It’s closer, isn’t it?” you muttered against his lips, grabbing him by the sweater. 

Seonghwa smiled into the kiss before pulling back. “Is this your way of getting me into your bed, miss?” he asked softly, thumbs grazing over your cheeks.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Maybe.”

Seonghwa chuckled, kissing your cheeky grin. “Dare I say, it’s working,” he commented, giving you another kiss before pulling away, taking your hand and leading you away from the table and towards the door into the shop. You stopped to grab your things and followed Seonghwa to the front door where he helped you with your coat before unlocking the door and opening it. 

“After you, ma’am,” he said and you gently pushed his chest. 

“Ugh, don’t call me ma’am,” you groaned as you stepped out into the night air.

Seonghwa followed behind, shutting the door and locking it. “Oh?” he asked, pocketing his keys and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and then your lips. “What would you like me to call you, then?” he asked, voice muffled by your lips. 

“I like Blossom,” you said softly after a moment of contemplation.

“Or Petal,” you added. Seonghwa smiled, cupping your cheek and pulling you into yet another kiss.

“Blossom it is,” he replied before pulling away and offering his arm for you to take. You did so and followed his lead. “So your place?” he asked, looking at you as you walked. 

You nodded, smiling up at him. “I can get clean underwear,” you said with a nod.

“Or you can just not wear clothes,” Seonghwa said as you walked, making you giggle.

“Well there’s another reason I’d like to go back to my place,” you added.

“Oh?” Seonghwa asked, looking at you as you pulled him to a stop and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I have spreader bars at my place.”

You giggled at the surprised look on his face before letting go of his arm and continuing forward. Seonghwa quickly caught up to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Spreader bars? As in multiple?” he hissed. “Seriously? Next you’ll tell me you have an assortment of fantasy dildos.”

You giggled again, harder and Seonghwa looked at you incredulously. 

“Guess I’m not as innocent as you thought,” you whispered.

“No,” he replied, a smirk forming on his face. “No, I guess not.”

You checked the label on the cup and read the name out loud, smiling as the customer came to get their order. The rush had just ended, the last of your customers trickling out of the door or finding empty seats to sit down and do their work or study.

“I’m gonna take my break, Y/N,” Addie said as you wiped down your counter. 

“Okay,” you called back. 

“Lin can fill in for me.” You smiled as Lin turned to look at you before they looked past you with a look of mild surprise and nodded. You turned around expecting to see a customer but were instead greeted with a singular white lily.

A smile spread across your face as you looked past the petals and saw the face of your boyfriend, the sweet, albeit kinky and sex-crazed, florist who worked across the square. “To what occasion do I owe this beautiful gift?” you asked, taking the flower from him and bringing it to your face to smell the scent.

“Occasion?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the counter. “Do I need an occasion to bring my beautiful girlfriend a flower?” he asked, reaching across the counter to gently take your chin in his hand and caress your cheek with his thumb. 

“Girlfriend?” a voice asked, making you both turn to find Addie looking from the back room in shock.

Seonghwa chuckled softly and looked back at you. “What time do you get off?” he asked as you admired the flower. 

“In about an hour,” you hummed, looking up at him. 

“Perfect, cause see I know this really great place. The wine is amazing and the food is to die for,” he mused, taking one of your hands.

“No flirting with the employees!” Addie said though you could tell by the tone in her voice she wasn’t serious. 

“So how about it?” Seonghwa asked. “I’ll pick you up here when you get off, we can stop by your place and you can change and then we’ll go?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Where is this place? Is it new?” you asked. You’d been to most of the restaurants in town and if something new had popped up, you were sure word would have spread. Seonghwa fought the urge to smile, cupping your cheek again.

“You could say that,” he answered. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he added, standing up straight. 

“Wait,” you called, making him stop by the door but also making a few of the patrons look up. Seonghwa calmly walked back over. “Where is this place?” you asked softly, leaning in, ignoring the looks of both your coworkers and the customers alike.

“You’ll like it,” Seonghwa said playfully. “I know the owner.”

You raised an eyebrow at this. “Why won’t you just tell me where it is?”

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning across the counter and catching you in a surprise kiss. “It’s my place,” he finally said with a laugh and stood up straight, drumming quickly on the counter before walking towards the door. “One hour,” he called and stepped out the door, letting it shut behind him.

“Since when are you seeing the florist?” Lin whispered, coming over to get a look at the lily in your hands. “Since last week,” you murmured, remembering the intense sex you had with said florist in his shop and then again the next morning and night at your place.

“You’re hiding something,” Addie said suddenly, startling you with her close proximity.

“What are you hiding?” You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said, turning away and looking out the cafe window to the floral shop across the square where Seonghwa was unlocking the door and entering the shop, shutting the door behind him.

“Nothing at all.”

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[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives

word count: 5.4k+ words

a/n: part 2 can be read here!

Alhaitham 

Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.

Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.

The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.

He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.

Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.

There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.

But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.

This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.

“Who allowed you to enter?”

The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.

"Shohre of course, as usual."

“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it. 

"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.

"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"

This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"

That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.

"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"

"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.

“We have an intruder, Sir.”

What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.

"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."

"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"

"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.

“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”

The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.

"S-she what?"

"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"

The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.

"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"

"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You leave the moment she enters."

There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.

Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.

"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.

Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.

Ayato

Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.

You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.

"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."

"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."

"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"

"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."

"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"

The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.

You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.

And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words. 

That you are his wife.

You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.

“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”

“Wonderful, please let them in.”

The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.

The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”

“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”

“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”

“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”

“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”

Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”

“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.

“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”

“Wife.”

Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.

“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.

“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”

The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.

“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”

Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!

As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”

That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.

Diluc

The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.

But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.

The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.

That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.

Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.

The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.

Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.

…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.

So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.

You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.

"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.

"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.

"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.

You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that. 

Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.

"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."

The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.

"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."

"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."

"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"

"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.

"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"

"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room. 

Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.

"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"

"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."

"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."

"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"

"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."

"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."

"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."

Kaeya

"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"

You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.

"...was that supposed to be a compliment?" 

Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.

But you can handle it.

"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.

"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."

At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?

Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"You are late, Kaeya."

A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.

"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."

"Youuurr?"

Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.

Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.

"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…

You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.

"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."

He hums at that.

"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."

You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.

"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"

Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.

"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."

Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual. 

Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.

"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"

The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship. 

And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.

"Maybe because she is my wife?"

If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.

"S-she's what?"

"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."

Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.

When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"

"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter. 

"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."