#signed or not. i will always love and support him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecoochiefairy · 16 hours ago

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juno. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 8.7K word count. blackfem!reader, pregnancy!kink, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f], just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ to the anon that wanted this idea, i was already on that before you said anything, baby. teehee! this is a continuation of baby phat.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon wins the super bowl.

visual. visual. visual. visual.

THE SCENT OF STRAWBERRY MILK DAUB'S YOUR SKIN. Suds captured along your curved figure, the warmth from showering now turning your ochre complexion a tone of russet. You were at peace, even with the upcoming excitement of the day thrumming in your chest.

Maybe your heart wasn’t beating fast. The vibration could’ve been coming from the song, BACKSTREETS, by DON TOLIVER, playing from the speakers instilled in your oversized marble bathroom—a place you complained was nonsensical to have so much square footage—but you couldn’t complain too much of your husbands desires, as he worked hard to achieve the exact lifestyle he wanted.

Back to being in the bathroom, your peace was interrupted by a sound that made your plump lips release a sigh. Your baby boy crying in the arms of his grandmother as he searched for you. Typical.

You try to finish getting ready anyways, annoyed with yourself as you feel tears welling within your eyes. Being six months postpartum hadn’t been easy—you loved your baby, attached at the hip like Velcro, as he was to you. You cried when he cried. But maybe it wasn’t all about you. Your baby was his father’s son, missing him just as much as you did.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye the moment Onyankopon was signed to the New Orleans Saints. He was the team’s youngest quarterback in years. The title produced a leadership the team never had before, calling dominating plays, the ball always within his control—and now, he was leading them to the Super Bowl.

With this big event coming up, you saw less of him. He only had a day or two to come home, and in that time he’d either sleep, spend as much time as he could with you, his mom, the baby, or sleep.

Through those frustrating times, you didn’t complain. You always supported his dreams. The minute he knew his team was in the game of champions, he promised to take time off after, and marry you in the Maldives as you dreamed. So you were patient.

The day had finally arrived—Super Bowl MMXXV. This was your first time being at one of his games in months, used to watching him from home. You were with him up until your pregnancy, Onyankopon not wanting to put you or the baby at risk as he traveled from city to city—in honesty, you were upset at first, and constantly expressed how much you missed him. He just wished you understood that all of this was for you, and your baby boy, Salem.

You clasp the golden charm bracelet along your wrist, short French tips glossing under the bathroom light as you’d just gotten them done. Shading your lip line with your favorite mixture of dark brown and mauve over your heart shaped lips once more, you play around with burmese curls of your sew-in, letting the hair frame your round face, freckled complexion blush from rushing the finishing touches of your makeup.

Adjusting your top, the alabaster material drapes effortlessly off your shoulder. The butterscotch crochet of your shorts mold along your round hips, a weight brought on since giving birth. Onyankopon glared at the glow you’d gotten from motherhood—your breasts were more full, your curves were curvier, and your skin was smooth, the scent of vanilla and baby products always wafting. If only you knew how much he craved you.

You wouldn’t call your mother in law dramatic. But you take a deep breath as you can hear her yelping from the kitchen of your condo, making your way downstairs to see her attempting to feed Onyankopon’s Dobermans. She holds the baby in one hand, dipping down and tossing the food into the bowls, the dogs actively watching her panic as they pant excitedly.

You sigh, “Momma—What are you doing?”

“These damn dogs—I can’t handle them!” she stutters, adjusting the baby in her arms as he begins to cry even louder from the disruption of sound.

She coos, “Oh lawd—Grandma didn’t mean to scare you, baby,” she bounces on her foot, trying to calm him down.

She then turns her irritation back to you, “Why the hell did Onyankopon get these dogs if he knew he wasn’t gonna be able to take care of them—They’re two big ass horses! They’re trying to attack me!”

“Sit,” you snap your fingers to the dogs, leaning down to clean the spilled chow from her panic, “I already fed them, momma. You ain’t have to let them inside. I know Zulu and Roux scare you.”

The dogs hike up, sitting properly as they wait for another command. She continues to bounce the baby in her arms, sighing “—I was doing fine ‘til my grand baby started crying for his mama,” she smooches Salem’s face, still a bit frazzled, “I was just trying to help.“

“And I appreciate that, okay? I just wanted you to change Salem before we leave, I know the pre-game starts soon.”

You open the patio to let the dogs back into their play area, sliding it closed as you question, “Did he poop?”

“Just a little—but I changed him a second time. I don't know what's wrong. I’ve been trying all morning while you were getting ready. Boy’s just like his father, don’t know what he wants when he wants it.”

“He wants you, momma. I swear—He just wants some milk. I promise he’s fine,” you open your arms out to take him, “C’mere, pookah,” you playfully pout, “Why’ you doing all that?”

He coos, reaching for you as his grandmother gives him over. His crying immediately subsided as he rested against your chest, tiny fingers playing with the gold pendant around your neck.

Still in a sour mood, your mother in law reminds, “I hope you bottled up all that milk he’s looking for. Can’t be giving a free show at the Super Bowl.”

You’re a bit more patient with her since having Salem, but she still managed to annoy the hell out of you at times—she was so adamant on making you do things her way.

You answer, “I pumped some milk last night—three times, so I can make it easier to feed Salem later. Lawd, momma—you being more fussy than the baby! You’ not excited for the game? You know Usher ‘supposed to be performing—that’s your man. You gotta’ jump down from the box, roll on the stage and give it to him!”

You place the tip of your tongue on your upper lip, playfully rolling your body as you bump your hip with hers, trying to lighten her mood.

She couldn’t resist chuckling, “Don’t be tryna’ show me how you got that baby in the first place. I’m excited—I just wanna make sure we don’t forget anything. Are you ready? Did you pack snacks for that baby? Some extra clothes if he spits up? You know there’s gonna be traffic in the business district.”

You reach over to the black diaper bag, golden fleur-de-lis symbol along the front as you place it over your shoulder, “All his milk is packed, extra diapers, clothes—he’s set for the next five days, momma. Can we go?”

“Alright, alright. I’m done fussing. I’m ready to see Ole Miss get they’ ass whooped, and see Usher! You think he’ll perform "There Goes My Baby?””

Your mother in law and baby were dressed similar—her wearing one of your fiancè’s jersey with his name and number, Salem wearing the tiniest jersey to match, miniature army cargos and Nike Dunks on his feet, dark hair already beginning to fro on his head, brown skin and freckled features pulling from both parents—although, Onyankopon’s genetics were much stronger.

“He better perform that song,” you smack your lips, “That’s the one that got me pregnant! Blame Urshers ass.”

You were essentially on black people time, planning to make it before the pre-game show, but arriving thirty minutes after it began. The entire street was blocked. Cameras, fans, extensive amounts of media coverage, everyone came together in pure excitement. Security motioned you towards the back of the stadium, having you all on a golf cart as they sped to the higher levels of the building.

You mentally prepared yourself to run into the group of football wives and their children. It’s not that you had an issue with them, they were just a bit too—bougie for your liking. Most of this group consisted of blonde hair and blue eyed smiles, flipping their locks and popping their gum as they spoke to you.

However, you could appreciate their excitement to see your baby. You put on a smile as you lean Salem towards the group of gushing women, a unison of “Awe!” as he chewed on the small bracelet on his wrist, blubbering nothings as he slobbered on his fingers.

Onyankopon’s mother stood beside you, watching the women crowd your baby boy, some asking to hold him only to have your soft no as an answer. She’d always try to convince you to make friends—but it only made you want to avoid it even more.

Requested by your fiancè, he made sure that everyone was comfortable as you had a private box at the top of the arena. A large sofa, on the other side was a balcony to look out on the field, close enough to the Jumbotron, with an additional tv on the inside to watch the game from any angle.

A table full of food from tenders, fries, sandwiches—to more southern orientated dishes like beignets, jambalaya, king cake, yakamein and even shrimp etouffee. When you stepped out to the balcony, you could see as people came flooding into their seats from below, watching as the players were on the field practicing, sports reporters talking through the intercom.

The chaos of the stadium was electric. People stood in their chairs, faces painted black and gold, the lights atop glowing purple, green and yellow, hype men throwing beads from the field, dancing along to the cultural music.

The noise of stomping, booing and cheering ensued as players came upon the screen. It made you anxious, but excited as well. You weren’t one for crowds, but you loved Onyankopon so much, being in the stadium made you feel closer to him.

Player after player, they appeared along the screen with a reaction from the fans—and there he was.

His hair was freshly braided, lineup sharp along the tight style. She could imagine how he complained in the chair. Facial hair around his full lips, dark pink as he reflexively clenched his sharp jaw, pulling his helmet to hold in his palm. The crowd roared at the sight of him.

He was constructed almost too perfectly. Tall, broad frame, tats swarming along his body in places that only you knew, even the ones that could be seen to everyone else. His lucky number, 74 along the countless other tats on his neck, religious cross on his cheek praising the man he constantly talked to throughout his career.

The black and gold jersey clung to the gear on his oversized frame, making him bigger than he already was. When he realized that he was on screen, he looked up—and that damn smile appeared. His tongue stuck out towards the camera, raising a muscular arm to pose, hyping himself up as he howled, the crowd returning the noise even louder. It was his signature—they loved him. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, watching as ’ONYANKOPON’ appeared brightly with his stats.

The entire building was roaring so loud, you could barely hear your mother in law as she shook her head, “That damn boy.”

You hated to admit it—That smile always made you swoon. He could turn you into a completely different person with one look. You watched as he walked towards his teammates who began to slap his helmet, hyping him up with the crowd's excitement.

Not only were the fans of your fiancè excited, but his biggest fan seemed to give a blubbering screech— Salem recognizes the face of his father as he jumps in your arms, the sound making you flinch.

“We’re looking through the crowd of familiar faces today—Oh, look at that! It seems the quarterback's fiancè is here with their adorable baby boy!”

The Jumbotron shows you, leaning against the balcony as you hold the baby in your arms. The cheers continue as you see yourself, a faint flush on your cheeks as you have no choice but to give a shy wave, heart shaped engagement ring glittering under the lights. You raise up your baby boy’s arm as you swing it back and forth, pointing to the screen for him to see himself.

The Jumbotron shifts from you to Onyankopon. He can’t get enough of you—jeweled smile, dark hair sprawling to your hips, almost able to inhale your scent when thinking about you. You hate how fine he is, running his tongue over his plump lips that turns into a boyish grin at the sight of his family.

That was the last camera on Onyankopon you’d see before it was all on business— he wasn’t just a quarterback with a family anymore. He was leading his team to a championship.

The coin toss was the lethal decision at the beginning of the game, determining who had control of the ball. You heard his voice choose heads, watching as the coin was thrown in the air, dropping down in the same second.

Tails.

Onyankopon’s team was defensive at the start, giving you the opportunity to calm Salem’s light fussing, startled by all the noise. He laid with his head resting against your chest, looking up at you as he tried to stick his fist inside his mouth.

Your mother in law sat beside you on the sofa, leaning over to ask, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer softly, brushing a curly strand of hair away from Salem’s face as he tugged at your shirt, “He just doesn’t like all the noise. Should’ve bought him some ear plugs.”

“He’s looking for that nipple—“ she interrupts herself, gasping at the screen, “Look! There he goes!”

Onyankopon forms a stance as both teams break, searching for where to pass the ball from the line. A wide receiver manages to sneak through a guard. Onyankopon sees this and chucks the ball towards the player, him catching it perfectly in stride as security attempts to tackle him—he’s moving, fast, the both of them on the same wavelength as he runs yards across the field.

“WE HAVE OUR FIRST TOUCHDOWN OF THE GAME!”

Your mother in law was yelling his full name, jumping up and down in the air at his first point scored, going off with the crowd that rumbled the entire stadium with their cheers. She leans down to shake your shoulder, making you giggle at her excitement.

Your anxiety had spiked from that coin toss, but you had no doubt in your fiancè—especially as you saw him have control of the ball for a second time, and now, he was running himself down the field. Your eyes went wide as he ducked and dodged players flying towards him, everyone rising to their feet in doubt that he’d make it all the way to the end.

You hand your baby over to his grandmother, flying to the balcony with wide eyes, unable to help yourself watch with everyone else.

He was moving at full speed down the pitch, a ball tucked underneath his right arm as the offensive line covered him, blocking the way for opposing players as they attempted to tackle him down. He runs with ease, barely able to register his surroundings as he makes it to the end zone, the entire stadium screaming his name, shaking the floor beneath you. He’s able to dodge yet another tackle, diving down into the end zone— the crowd went insane.

“TOUCHDOWN!—And that’ll put the Saints in a two-point lead as he scores! Now if that’s not the sweetest thing I’ve seen!”

He’s standing there, cocky in the best way as his teammates run towards him—celebrating as they slap his helmet, hug his large frame, slamming their palms together in repetitive applause. You’re jumping in your spot like a schoolgirl, clapping your hands with a shout, unable to contain your excitement.

The other team was pissed.

It was a good game for the next couple of hours. It was up and down, both teams playing to their best ability, unfortunately being trumped by your home team. They were just too good, especially being led by such a quarterback. Salem’s fussing had also subsided, now more playful than anything, his grandmother unable to take her eyes off the field while her grandson attempted to stand in her lap.

“Say-Say, baby. Stay down, you can try to stand up later,” She pushes gently on his shoulders as he throws his body up, babbling nothings, the noise almost blocking out the roar of the stadium.

Nearing towards the end—things were beginning to change. Your fiancè was on the bench as they called a timeout, begrudgingly wiping his face. He could feel his body begin to burn from the physical activity. His chest heaved, but his eyes were still focused in the game.

The opposing team was up by a single touchdown and the timer was coming to an end. Onyankopon was pissed. He wants the ball. He needs it as the defensive line goes on the field. His deep voice rumbles as he calls out his players, knocking sense into them, cussing in ways you heard when he was incredibly serious. Competitive was an understatement.

When the timer begins, he calls for a pass, a deep ball down the field to his wide receiver, who was covered by one of the best defenders in the entire league. The crowd yells, his teammates doing the same, Onyankopon being doubled by one of the defensive players.

It doesn’t matter—he’s caught it. Down for one, at the three yard line. The stadium goes crazy for the pass. One more time—the play clock ticking down, he calls for the ball again. Another pass on the opposite side of the field to a wide receiver, caught perfectly. No one could move at this point—the clock running its final seconds, the crowd chanting the same three numbers. Onyankopon’s heart is pounding in his chest so harshly, he can hear his own blood pump behind his ears.

Two seconds on the clock, he calls for the ball again.

The snap, Onyankopon drops back into the pocket, he scans the field before tossing the ball towards a receiver at the back corner of the end zone. You watch as the entire stadium erupts. His teammates are on the field, running towards him with screams of victory as they run for the end zone. You can hear his deep, joyous laughter over the roaring spectators as he stands there, arms raised in the air as he gives the biggest bellow he’d ever made. The stadium is trembling.

They’d won.

The moments of world renowned joy—it was rare to feel something like that. Your mother in law is so busy screaming that you take notice at the last minute of the security wanting to guide you downstairs to the field, and you’re itching to get to your fiancè. Your hands practically shake as you scoop up your baby boy, rushing over to the golf cart to be taken where everyone celebrates.

They’re hollering like schoolboys, roughhousing with each other—tossing Gatorade onto their coach. Black and gold streamers drop down onto the field, emotions in every part of the arena.

As you’re taken outside, you hold your baby close to your chest as it’s like a mosh pit. The security has to lightly shove people out the way to get you towards the middle of the field where the team stands, your free hand holding your mother in laws.

That’s when you see him. It’d felt like months, even if it was only three days. He’s being interviewed by multiple people, hand reflexively holding the top of his gear, leaning down to meet the height of the woman that politely talks to him. You can see the way he makes anyone nervous, the woman smiling and giggling as he answers her questions, a giddy smirk on his face like no other. It made you happy to see him in the spotlight. He belonged there.

You were never afraid to let him have his shine. You were patient, watching as he was on his fourth interview. On the other hand, your mother in law wasn’t so graceful about waiting.

“You just carried your team to a Super Bowl win, Onyankopon. How do you feel?”

He’s sweating bullets and out of breath, but he keeps his composure. Pulling the bottom of his jersey up, exposing his toned stomach as he wipes his face.

He lets out a deep, breathless chuckle, “Shit is crazy, not gon’ lie. I can only thank my team, the people that support me. My family, god. He’s always gon’ keep me together. A nigga is grateful for everything in this life.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, hating that you feel yourself becoming emotional. You loved this man so much.

“And how will you be celebrating tonight?”

You didn’t think he’d seen you standing there. But he looks directly at you, that hungry grin along his face as he grunts, “I’m gon’ start by seein’ my baby, lovin’ on my wife. That’s really all the shit I need.”

He leans closer to the camera, “Y’all be safe out there—and don’t be acting like niggas, tearing up the city—ion’ wanna see none of that shit!”

The interview gives one more congratulations, leaving him be. You allow your mother in law to trap him in a hug first, swinging him from side to side, “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart! Give thanks to god!”

“All praises to the highest—“ he lets out a chuckle, pulling her into his arms, her head only reaching his chest. In his mothers fashion, she begins rambling as she grabs his chin, “You gon’ keep all this hair on your face? Did you even get a haircut?—“

“See, I knew you was gon’ act like this. Imma’ give you one more hug, and you gotta let me see my girl, momma.”

She kisses him on the cheek as she pulls away, taking Salem into her own arms. You have no time to process before he lifts you off the ground, palms groping your ass with a grunt in your ear that you wrap your arms around his neck reflexively, squealing—“Onyankopon!”

He’s careless that there’s thousands of people around him, in your ear as he gruffly says, “I missed you bad as fuck. I missed this big ass,” he squeezes it in his hands, making you giggle even more, “Missed that beautiful face. You can’t be away from a nigga for that long. That ain’t gon’ happen again—you hear me?”

“I hear you,” you roll your eyes, “You won!” you shriek, wrapping yourself tighter around him, “Your first ring, baby!”

It felt surreal—he wasn’t sure what he felt, still stunned that they’d won an entire championship. His emotions were on a rollercoaster, his chest thumping like a drum as he pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours. His deep voice shakes a bit as he chuckles, leaning down into you to hide the emotions he feels.

It was extremely rare for Onyankopon to get like this. The last time you’d seen it, he held Salem for the first time. He was a man full of gratitude, and it was all hitting him at this moment. You quickly run your thumb under his eye, giggling as tears form in your own vision.

“I love you,” you say softly, in the midst of chaos around you.

He presses his trembling lips against your own, the heat of his breath making you dizzy as the butterflies in your body flutter wildly. He’s hungry as he takes every part of your lips, finding a grip on your throat as he’s dropping his tongue in your mouth.

“Boy, come hold this baby and quit tryna’ make another one!”

Your mother in law's voice comes between the two of you. Another soft giggle comes from you as you pull back, running your fingers along the braids in his hair as Salem reaches out to his father.

“I hear you, Momma. Lawd.”

He immediately pulls away, the most tender and gentle expression you’d ever seen on him as he scoops Salem out of his mother’s arms, cradling him close to his face as he snuggles him. This was something you wished you could put on pause. His big hand cups your son’s entire body, giving gentle kisses to his forehead, the baby cackling out giggles.

“You know he screeched when you came on the Jumbotron?” You tell him, attempting to pull Salem’s fist from his mouth.

He’s distracted, unable to tear his eyes from Salem as he pulls him in close, “Yeah? You see yo’ daddy, baby? What you’ think of this?”

He’s bouncing him in his arms, holding his head as he moves Salem to see everyone in the stadium, “Awe, baby—he ain’t gon’ remember all this.”

You rub his shoulder, “That’s okay, he sees you, Ony. He’s gonna remember that.”

His hand finds the small of your back, tugging you close to his side as he continues to coo at Salem, “I need to get y’all home soon.”

“You’re not going out with the team?” You question, a small frown on your face, “I thought you’ was saying all that for the cameras.”

He looks at you, “You think I wanna be with grown ass men over spending time with my family? Where’s yo’ mind at?”

You roll your eyes. Taking Salem back into your arms, “Whatever, nigga. Go do yo’ last little interviews, imma’ go call a car for your mom, I know she wants to go home.”

“I ain’t gon’ be long—like ten-fifteen minutes,” he presses a kiss under your chin, kissing the forehead of his baby boy before taking off to where the team took photos.

You look over to your mother in law, who has the same look as you, knowing that ten to fifteen minutes was damn sure a lie.

You raise an eyebrow, “You wanna wait?”

“Girl, call his driver and get me home. I’m not waiting on his big headed ass.”

You laugh, listening nonetheless.

When the chaos of the night comes to an end—you’re back where you imagined being for the past couple of days. You stare out the window from the top floor of your condo, seeing the city twinkling beneath the stars, colors flashing from business buildings to represent the city’s celebration. It could’ve been a completely different night—you and Onyankopon could’ve been with the city, partying, drinking until your organs collapsed.

But you were here. Within your shared bedroom, Onyankopon laid out on the bed, scrolling through twitter and watching the shit-show happening on Canal street.

“They go so crazy in the boot,” he chuckles, “You see this shit, baby? Niggas on street poles—they busted a window at a Chase bank!”

You continue brushing your teeth, staring out the window and watching the fireworks going off in the sky.

“Boy, don’t be acting like if I ain’t give you the green light you wouldn’t be out there acting an ass too.”

“That’s a big if. You ain’t never gon’ give me the green light. You like to keep me all cooped up.”

He gets up from his spot and walks over to you, taking a seat in the bay window as he pulls you in between his legs, “You think I’m lyin’?”

“So you wanna go out?” You raise an eyebrow, “I heard your players was finna’ go out to Visions to celebrate,” you refer to the gentlemen's club, “That’s what you was’ tryna do? Oh, aight. Go out with your lil’ funky ass friends then,” you roll your eyes, wanting to finish off your nightly routine.

“Come on, you gotta know I’m bullshittin’,” he tugs you back closer to him, “You ain’t gon’ be nice to me? I just won the damn Super Bowl.”

You briefly step into the bathroom to wash out your mouth, wiping the bottom of your now bare face. You sigh, “You could’ve gone out if you wanted to, Ony. I was just gonna come back and pass out with Salem.”

“I know you missin’ my touch. C’mere.”

Onyankopon had a bad habit of liking you more in this state. Freckles cover your nose and cheeks as you’d wiped all your makeup off, curls dangling around your face. The dark tresses hung from the claw clip you’d lazily stuck in there, trying to pull your hair out the way as you fed Salem earlier, wearing a white tee that hugs your upper half, midriff showcasing between your white panties. He couldn’t stop playing with the lace bow on the front of the cotton material.

Fuzzy Saints socks pulled the look all together—you were perfect.

He breathes low, fingers gently gripping your hips, “See, you got me feeling lonely. I need you with me, baby. Fuck allat’ club shit.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hum as you lean close to his mouth, “You only want me, huh?”

“Don’t play. You know you’ my good luck charm.”

You’re too pretty in the moonlight for him to resist. He holds you close, pulling your mouth to meet his as he kisses you slowly—But of course, the moment is interrupted as you hear the sound of fussing.

You pull your mouth back, exhaling a bit. You sigh, “I didn’t pump tonight, so I gotta go finish feeding him.”

He groans, hands sliding down to cup at your ass as he holds you close, “Can’t you just let him cry a lil’ bit?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Would you like me to not feed you?”

His chuckle is slight, looking up into your serious stare, “That’s different, he ate not too long ago.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have given him the appetite you have, hm?” You give him a peck on the lips, “Don’t be talkin’ bout my baby!” You exclaim, disappearing out of the bedroom with that.

It takes longer than you anticipate to feed your baby, burp him, and finally get him in his crib. After a little bit of fussing, his eyes drift as he lays along his stomach, pacifier in his mouth as he drifts off, warm in a soft blue onesie.

You groan a bit as you make your way back towards the bedroom. Your chest was aching. The lights were now off, a box fan blowing comfortingly in the corner—the only light casting within the room now was from the moon. You can see the reflection of Onyankopon’s phone on his face, knowing this was his routine before he passed out. You couldn’t blame him for it.

You say quietly as you close the door, “Salem’s asleep.”

The comforting sound of the fan continues to blow. You then have a thought, slowly pressing your knees against the bed as you begin crawling towards him.

“Daddy…”

He immediately says, “Nuh-uh. You only do all that when you want sum.’ I just won the Super Bowl. Leave me alone.”

You roll your eyes, groaning, “I only had a question.”

“You got a question, huh?”

You’re already tugging at his arm until he caves in, tossing his phone to the side with a sigh, “Aight, aight. You got my undivided attention, all that bullshit.”

“Since you’re in such a good mood, can we talk about getting me a breast lift again? And before you say it—I don’t need all that self love bullshit,” you cover his eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Girl, don’t start with me.”

His fingers tug at your hand until he removes it from his face, holding onto your arms, “I’m not tryna’ argue with you right now, forreal.“

“It shouldn’t have to be an argument,” you protest, “Salem is sucking me dry, all he wants is the nipple.”

“I told yo’ ass to take him off the titty, you ain’t wanna listen,” Onyankopon murmurs, placing his hands behind his head, looking up at you through the moonlight.

You flick his nose, “It’s normal for a six month old to still be breastfeeding, Ony!”

“Yeah, you’ right,” He sighs, glancing at you with a lazy smile, “I’m not sayin’ no, you got a point. I just don’t wanna have this discussion right now, aight? You gon’ have to give me some time to think about it.”

You roll your eyes, “They’ll still be my real boobs, I’m just gonna have them sit up. Although, wouldn’t I look good with some implants? Like them’ big ass anime girl boobs? Imagine!” You place his hands on your chest, “You’ll have so much more to grab!”

“You do like to be on bullshit, huh?” He squeezes softly, “You playin’ dirty, that’s foul. You gon’ have to come to me with a serious argument.”

“This is my argument. You’ not feelin’ good enough. Don’t they feel like two raisins? Exactly!” You blow out a breath, “You know, I wouldn’t be this difficult if you asked to get your dick bigger or something.”

“That’s ‘cause my shit fat,” your body jerks as he gives a smack to your ass, “You makin’ my head hurt.”

You giggle evilly, “Good,” as you roll onto your side of the bed, pressing your back against his chest, scooting back to spoon yourself into his body. You sigh at the immediate warmth, feeling as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

He hums, eyes closed as he wraps his body around yours, holding you close, “Go to sleep. I know you’ tired.”

“I know you’ tired.”

“Oh, aight. So we just gon’ argue all night.”

You roll your eyes at that. Silence goes between the both of you, and you think he might be asleep. You adjust yourself in his hold, turning yourself on your back to be able to face him, but still keeping yourself beneath his arms.

“You know how much I love you?”

Your voice is soft, barely audible.

A lazy kiss to your cheek.

A hum.

“Let me guess.”

“Mm?"

A sleepy, deep chuckle.

“As much as I love you?”

You smile a bit, “Maybe a lil’ more than that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You love me the most-est,” you kiss his nose.

“I love you the most-est. We’ cool?”

You find that in the darkness, it’s possible to find every little line and fold in his face. His eyelashes, his nose, and his lips. They’re all beautiful.

You lean your face down, giving him the softest kiss in response. Your noses brush together a bit, your soft giggle huffing through your mouth.

He kisses you back. His chest rumbles in a quiet, deep chuckle, eyes remaining closed as you pull away. You find them opening slowly, staring with a gaze that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

“You tryna’ start sum?”

Your body goes warm at the question. Your lower half throbs, but you never knew how to…say that exactly. You adjust yourself, separating your thighs a bit as you shake your head, “No. Salem’s a light sleeper, you know that.”

You move an inch, but he’ll follow you with his eyes.

“Right. That’s why you doing allat’ movin’.”

The moon is moving away from your window, making it even darker than before. You can’t see him, but you can feel his body. His presence, his aura.

You exhale a bit, breath uneven as you say, “Go to sleep, Ony.”

His hand traces over your hip, up and down. You can feel his eyes on you, staring and searching the outlines of your body.

“You gon’ say what’s on your mind?”

It’s like he flashes in your mind all at once. His smile, his laugh, his arrogance on the field, the love he had for Salem, the glare he gave you when he—

“…Just a lil’ restless,” you say softly.

No response, nothing for a short moment. That’s when you feel your head being nudged up a bit, his lips beneath your chin, gently dragging his mouth over your neck. The feeling makes you swallow, frowning as you gently adjust yourself again.

You can feel his lips and tongue on your skin. He’s going agonizingly slow, not moving any lower than your neck, and it’s driving you crazy.

You attempt to press your hand along his jaw to halt his movements, but as you do, he finds that spot. It’s the area right under your ear, in between your neck. It makes your eyes roll, your body trembling in response. You’re unethical as you whimper, “O—Ony, I don’t wanna wake up Salem…”

He’s now on the other side of your neck, still agonizingly slow in his affection. You can feel his patience thinning, as his lips drag onto your shoulder next.

“You think you can keep quiet for me?”

That warmth in your body returns as Onyankopon lifts his face, meeting his tongue with yours, catching your lips under his mouth. You give a light gasp, pulling your face back a bit from the embarrassment of being that reactive—another unfortunate side effect that came after pregnancy.

”C’mon, Mama. Gimme’ yo’ mouth.”

You listen—even as your body shudders, whining softly with a push back against his lips, his kiss consuming you. Your mind is fuzzy at this point.

“There you fuckin’ go.”

Your lips are met with a wet sound. He’s sloppy in his kiss. His tongue moves along your own, warm thumb brushing along your cheek, dragging over your throat, up until it’s at the bottom of your tee, tugging the fabric up to place along your collarbone. The top sits right above your breasts, Onyankopon already lowering himself, sucking your brown nipples in between his lips in repetitive pops, grunting each time the soft skin hardened below his mouth.

You attempt to slow him down as you arch yourself opposite of his mouth, which travels between the dip of your chest, tracing down to the ink scattered along your stomach. This position was a terrible idea—his mouth was all over you now, hands firm and demanding, your lower body tingling.

You can sense the pressure building within your stomach which makes your breathing grow more uneasy as your whole body tries to cope, but fails with each kiss he leaves—he’s going lower, lower…

It’s as if being in complete darkness somehow made things more intimate. You can’t see him, but you can imagine his eyes on you—lustful, coaxing—he’s scooting your lower body closer to his broad shoulders, your pedicured feet dipping in the sculpted muscles of his back as he spreads your thighs open, his warm mouth re-introducing itself as he’s dragging his tongue on your ankle, leading up to sucking your toes in his mouth.

“Got a nigga needing you.”

At his admiration, you give him your whimper quietly—secretly. He knows it was there as he starts between sucking your toes, teasing, causing you almost to wince as you bite against your bottom lip—the warmth surrounds your ankle from him sucking at the arch of your foot.

You move uncomfortably in your pleasure as he pulls his tongue over the same area again—the throbbing between your legs becoming more harsh as he tugs at the curve of your foot, giving you goosebumps.

He knew you loved his mouth. Couldn’t stand it, almost. His tongue could take you to heights only sex toys could've attempted, making his mouth a formidable competition. Yet, as amazing as he made you sound—his groans, his talking pushed you farther than anything else, leaving your ears constantly ringing.

As his mouth was your guilty pleasure, your scent was his. A milky vanilla, it was like some type of aphrodisiac pheromone. He circles his tongue over your ankle before pulling it back to his shoulder, lowering himself down to meet with your inner thighs.

He’s grunting, “Always smell so muhfuckin’ good, baby.”

Another baby gasp is taken as his beard tickles along the sensitive skin near the back of your knees, forcing shivers up your spine as his tongue explores further along, his grunt dragging a jolt up the soft flesh on your legs.

Your soft sounds echoed throughout the darkness as your lower lip became a captive against your own teeth. Ony was tasting at the edge of your inner thigh now, his beard brushing against the same spot on your skin, almost predatory as he dragged his tongue across the seam.

This was dangerous territory—especially when he growled at the syllables to his name from your lips, you breathily panting, “B—baby…”

The anticipation grew larger for you by each second, inch he moved, becoming too loud to be masked anymore within the silence that enveloped the pair of you. There would soon be tears coming, you knew that.

And here they were. They form lightly in your eyes, and you hate that. You sniffle through the darkness, clasping his braided hair as you spread your legs a bit, “Ony, please…”

The desperation within those words, mixed with your softness that clung onto his fingertips made him arrogant. His hand presses between the cradle of your thighs, pulling you up to a point where his warm breath huffs against the entirety of you. He can imagine your pussy—bubblegum pink, camouflaged by the brown of your outer lips—pretty.

“You gon’ be loud?”

You press your fingers into your mouth, shaking your head in the darkness. Your body jolts as his palm effortlessly pops your ass, the skin shaking as he grunts, “Use that fuckin’ mouth, girl. ‘Know you hear me talkin’.”

You shake your head as you whimper, “Can’t, Ony. Don’t wanna wake the baby.”

It’s right as you finish that sentence. He gives your clit the softest kiss, letting his lips hold the nub in between them, savoring the tremble your body does in response. He spreads his tongue over you slowly, almost testing the ripeness, grunting, “Ooh, shit. Why this shit tastin’ like that?”

His head tilted to consume more, Ony losing himself, his chin bobbing his mouth as he’s groaning, becoming lost in what he’s doing. The back of your palm meets with your mouth, turning your face into the pillow as your eyes screw shut. They roll all at the same time, feeling your hand tremble above your face as you whine, “O—oh my g…”

Each leveled sound causes his eyes to half-lid in satisfaction, making the pitch black around you almost rotate as he goes on. You were soft. Ony pushed against you to eat you better, lifting you off his shoulders at moments just to bring you down onto his face, chasing to smother himself in your taste.

Your folds are being spread open by his tongue, clit encapsulated by the raindrops of your saliva, hood pulled back as he sucks on it abrasively—your legs are shaking.

You hold onto his hair as your chest heaves, back to panting, “S—slow baby…mmph…”

“Quit allat’. Keep it up, I’m finna’ have you cryin’ on my face.”

He never told you anything twice. Even with his words, he gives into your plea. Slightly. Ony lets off for a bit, letting you drown in his beard, before he drags his tongue back up to its peak, latching onto your clit like a pacifier.

Onyankopon takes you slow, as slow as you like now as his eyes watch yours in the pitch black. His lower face is wet, your pussy catching the mess of your arousal, coating a sheen against itself, reflecting back in Onyankopon’s facial hair.

You hated how shy he made you, as if you weren’t going to marry this man soon. You’re bolder through the darkness as you beg, “Want your tongue in me, Ony…”

His tongue draws circles around your opening, your head coming up to watch, even if you can’t see. He’s pushing his tongue inside. He curses at the twitch in response—God. Your walls quiver, sucking around the thickness, molding in response to the texture of his tongue.

He could linger here all night—he’s moaning, overshadowing your whine of pleasure, his mouth plunging back down for yet another stroke into your pussy, arousal gushing around his lips, spurring fleshy sounds as your eyes roll back, “Fuck,” you almost sob, “Fuck…”

“Takin’ my mouth like some muhfuckin’ dick. Nasty ass bitch, just fuckin’ my face,” he can’t stop moaning to you, “Keep fuckin’ me.”

He continuously brings you onto the tip of his tongue, thrusting into your heat as if trying to get you to flood. He eats, slurping up your spillage like a dessert, a reward he could argue is better than his championship—he deserved you.

It’s as if the both of you are addicts—feening for another fix. He lifts himself from between your legs as he crashes his mouth against yours, able to taste yourself off his tongue.

You’re sloppy as you kiss each other, Onyankopon’s large frame hovered over yours in an almost terrifying manner, locking your legs back along his shoulders. His tip smacks along your clit, the weight of his length always leaving a presence against your pussy, even when it was gone, even when he was away.

This was always the most difficult part for you. But you were so wet, you hoped you wouldn’t do much complaining today. You pull your mouth back as you press your forehead against his, hand along the side of his face, breathing slightly into his mouth. He digs his forehead into yours as he takes one of your hands above your head, intertwining your fingers as his other is holding up your leg—Onyankopon dropping in, stretching your folds as he slowly sinks into your pussy. Your eyebrows furrow a bit, holding onto his face tighter. Your breathing is more labored than before, and the moment you feel him curving for your cervix, you gasp, pulling his face closer to yours, a sloppy moan rushing from your mouth, thighs trembling at the discomforting pleasure.

“Gimme’ my fuckin’ pussy,” he grunts, “This shit mine, actin’ like it’s not,” Another ravenous pull that caused him to grunt as he slowly bucked his hips—stretching your folds until he bottomed out, sinking in against your walls fully.

Your moans were chaotic. You found yourself reaching for his shoulder, digging your nails into the skin as he lowered himself more, growling, “Better gimme’ that shit,” tears within your eyes as you whined, eyes rolling back as you relaxed for him.

You had no choice but to let him get this deep into your stomach. You’re trying to tuck your face in your shoulder, his strokes long, the slowness making it all the more evil.

He had a hold of your hips, almost cradling you within his hold, slamming you down onto his dick. As much as you said he loomed above you, Onyankopon knew he encased you. He could smell his son off of you sometimes—just another reason to bring his hands underneath you—burying himself deeper, lips near yours, sucking against your chin in a feigned fashion.

You gave a pathetic cry, pulling him even closer, “Onyyy…”

“You got my dick in yo’ fuckin’ stomach,” he teases breathily above your lips, his fingers crusading against the plump flesh on your thighs, coaxing you to open wider for his greed.

“You feelin’ it, huh?”

He won’t stop talking. It’s because he knows he has you right where he wants you. You’re quieter than he’d want you to be, but it’s because you’re cumming, nearly pushing his dick out as you feel yourself coating his entire length. Your eyes haven’t resurfaced to the darkness as they’re still in the back of your head.

You pout, “You’re so fucking deep, Ony…I love you,” you promise to him, sniffling as you listen to your skin slapping against his, “I love you…”

“I love you too, Mama. Keep talkin’ to me.”

He didn’t care if you were already this stupidly drunk because of him. He needed you lost.

If you thought this was the hardest part of his offense, wait until he flipped you onto your side—your knees close to your chest, Onyankopon’s left arm holding your hip, beginning to tug you down onto his length, ass ricocheting off his abdomen. Your body feels exhausted, your curls masking over your face, unable to have the energy to move them as you could only take his strokes.

“You hear me?” He repeats, arrogance feigning, “A nigga love you. You’ gon’ give me another baby?”

Your eyes are rolled back for the umpteenth time, turning your head a bit to feel him from the darkness, frowning from how much pleasure fills your body.

You can’t help but ramble back to him, “Gonna give you another baby, Ony. Promise.”

His hips are smacking into your ass—hard, hard enough to send ripples of pleasure that course down to your ankles.

“You gon’ marry me?” He questions, sliding his hand up to reach your throat, using that as leverage to drop you down onto him, the connecting skin wet, slapping together in a symphony, “Ain’t finna’ give my pussy away?”

“This your pussy, Daddy,” you whimper to him, cheeks flushed, knowing he had you talking crazy. You hold onto the pillow below your head, “Gonna’ marry you, baby…so proud of you…”

“You proud of me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you whine softly in response, to which he replies,”I’m proud of you, Mama. Takin’ dick like a fuckin’ pro. Gon’ be a pretty ass momma all over again. Gon’ give me a lil’ girl.”

His words, the love he carries—being a father, being a husband, being a man. You wanna give him as many babies he wants. You want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You sob, “Cum in me. Cum in me, Ony…”

"Quit beggin' for my cum. Take it.”

He groans, speeding up, stretching you so wide with every hit against your cervix, even feeling that faint pain doesn't ruin the waves building as you cum again. He pushes himself forward, pulling your hair out your face as he nastily kisses you, moaning, an action filled with affection, lust, love.

The pleasure you give to each other is like no other this time around. It might’ve gotten so good—too good. He hovers atop of you, breathing heavily as you feel that familiar warmth fill your walls.

You pull his mouth closer as you repeat for the thousandth time, “I love you, Onyankopon.”

He’ll kiss you, a bit harder in response. His words are mumbled over your lips.

“I love you so much fuckin’ more, girl.”

When you go to return his kiss one more time—the baby monitor screeches—Salem’s cry interrupting you both. You press your forehead against his chest, giggling softly.

Onyankopon lets out a small sigh, chuckling in response to your amusement.

“I got him, Mama. Gon’ head and go to sleep.”

He finally turns on the lamp beside the bathroom, planting another kiss along your forehead before standing from the bed.

You lay your head along the pillow as you watch him search for his basketball shorts, unable to help but watch his bare body move around the room, back muscles flexing naturally.

When he turns back as he feels your eyes, you drop them directly to his dick as you innocently question, “What?”

Onyankopon smirks, amused at your lingering gaze—pulling on his shorts, concealing his lower half.

“I thought you was’ tired? I ain’t do my job?”

You were exhausted, but your tired daze had you smiling at him, and maybe you were still a little horny.

You give him those eyes, “I am. I’m just watching.”

“You gon’ keep getting pregnant with them’ eyes. You’ need another round? Cause we can really have a Super Bowl: Champions of Dick—“

“No, jesus. I’m going to sleep. Go feed my child.”

“I ain’t got no milk in my chest!”

“Onyankopon.”

“Aight, aight. You love me?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Positive?”

“Onyankopon!”

“Aight, lawd. Bye.”

#ony x black reader #onyakapon #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x you #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x black reader smut #ony smut #onyankapon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #aot smut #aot

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ja3yun · 2 days ago

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The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 1: beginnings

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, protected sex, first times, oral (m&f. rec), fingering, throat fucking, angst, fluff, arguments and reconciliation,mentions of alcohol, they are tooth-rottingly in love with one another, pet names (baby, princess), strangers to lovers, anything else lmk! w.c: 29k synopsis: the day you met sim jaeyun was the beginning of your life truly starting. you share everything together, first date, first time, first fight, first love. you couldn't be happier....for now. a/n: hi! if you have ever read tstab then this will look very different from the first time, though, the plot remains almost identical to what it was before. thank you for all the support! i promise this is the longest chapter and the others will be significalty less so i hope the 29k doesn't put you guys off! also, i will warn you now, this series does have some morally-grey choices woven in and ynjake are not saints in any way so please bare that in mind when reading the upcoming chapters! as always, comments, feedback, and reblogs are all welcome <33

masterlist | chapter 2

The first time you meet Sim Jaeyun is on the number 18 bus, headed to your first day of high school. It’s August, the sun blazing in a cloudless sky. Little did you know that the brightest light wasn’t emanating from the burning star.

The bus is busy, students new and old gracing the seats and aisles, and a sea of navy blue and black floods your vision. Then you spot it, a tiny seat at the back gone unnoticed. As you push your way to the back of the bus ignoring the disgruntled travellers cursing under their breath at your intrusion, you take a seat and huff a breath, victory curving slightly on your lips.

You are observant of your surroundings, it’s one of the many traits you got from your mum. Not so observant as first thought, however, as you miss the way a certain boy beside you eyes you up and down, smiling fondly as his hot gaze takes you in. As the bus pulls up to your new school, people flocked to the tall, almost rustic building. The stones are yellow ash, letters missing from the sign that sits slanted above the entrance doors, and there are cracks on the pavement from neglect.

You begin to wonder if this is a foresight into your academic career. Out of all the schools in Seoul, why did your parents pick this one?

“I heard it’s haunted on the third floor, y’know,” a voice echoes behind you, pulling you out of your trance. Twisting your head, you come face to face with a pretty boy, and suddenly, the sun seems to get warmer. “Hi,” his hand raises slightly to give a small wave, his head tilting to accompany a Cheshire grin spread so wide you can’t help but mirror it back to him.

"Hi," you murmur, your voice barely steady as nerves creep up on you once again, the smile that reflected his now faltering. It’s partly the boy’s disarming presence, partly the weight of his words sinking in. You glance back at the building, the air around it now eerily heavy. “Is it really haunted? Because if it is, I’m not going anywhere near it.”

He shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Rumour has it there’s a girl on the third floor in the girls’ bathroom. A fox scratched out her eyes, and no one helped her. Now she haunts the place, looking for revenge. If you see her reflection and make eye contact…” He pauses, letting the silence stretch as he leans into you. “She’ll take yours, too.”

You shudder, your stomach twisting with horror. “Nope. Nope, absolutely not.” You start to retreat to the bus stop, determined to get as far away from the school and the fox girl as possible. But before you can get too far, he stops you, his hands firm but not forceful as he turns you back to face the building. The sun beats down, and you feel its heat more intensely, though it might just be the proximity of him behind you. His chuckle, low and soft, brushes against your ears.

“If you can face this place for one day, you can handle it for the next few years. Yeah?”

You stare at the school and throw the pros and cons of his words in your hands. He’s right in some capacity; if you get through today and face your fears, perhaps then everything won’t seem so daunting. Plus, how will you ever explain to your parents that you didn’t bother going to school because of an old ledged that a stranger told you in passing? They would laugh and then drag you into the old building themselves.

With a little hesitation, you look at the boy for some reassurance - and there it is. His plump smile and warm, encouraging eyes do everything to settle the unease in your chest. He is so ethereal, with his tanned skin, thick nose, and bright eyes. You’ve never seen a boy look so…perfect. Even in a slightly creased navy polo and baggy beige trousers, he somehow looks like a teen heartthrob.

Catching yourself staring at him, you shake your head and inhale a deep breath to settle the remnants of your apprehensions. You can do this Y/N. Ghost or not.

What you don’t realise is that the story isn’t even real. It’s something he has made up on the spot. He doesn’t know why but he just needed a reason to speak to you. There’s a glow about you, he saw it on the bus as you stared out the window in awe at the scenery. Once he clocked that you were standing transfixed with hesitation, he took his shot.

Granted, there may have been a better way to grab your attention than telling you a story about an eye-scratching ghost, but it was the perfect excuse to get close to you. Next time, he’ll tell you a nice story about a friendly ghost in the first-floor bathroom who gifts sweeties and tampons upon arrival.

“Y/N,” you say quietly, introducing yourself and drawing him back to the present.

His eyes, warm and curious, meet yours. “Jaeyun. Or Jake, if you prefer.” He grins again, though this time a little more sheepishly, scratching his forearm.

You finally take him in - his dark hair, slightly tousled; his thoughtful eyes; the way his lips curl into a subtle pout as the silence envelopes you both. He studies you just as intently, and for the first time, you feel truly seen.

That day, the sun wasn’t the only thing that warmed your cheeks.

As the day unfolds, you learn so much about him. He loves football with a passion that lights up his face. He’s so smart that it catches you off guard, and creative in ways that inspire you to try new things and find a light of your own. He adores his blonde loyal dog, Layla, more than anything in the world. And although he hates being scared, he can’t resist the thrill of haunted houses.

By lunchtime, he’s your best friend, and it feels like he always has been.

The weeks that follow teach you everything else about Jaeyun. You notice how he bites his lip when he’s thinking or flustered, how his fingers habitually comb through his hair. His eyes widen with excitement and he gets a soft twinkle in them that resembles stars in the midnight sky, and even more when curiosity takes hold. When he smiles wide enough, his gums show, and it’s so unguarded, so him, that it makes your chest tighten. You notice all these little things, the details that most people might miss.

By Christmas, he’s become your first love.

But you never tell him. Why would you? Why risk ruining something so beautiful when you’re convinced he doesn’t feel the same? For a while, you think maybe he does, that there is a spect of hope of something more than just being best friends. But then you catch him flirting with the class rep one too many times and your hope crumbles. It makes you tuck your feelings away, sharing them only with the moon as you lie awake at night, pondering what could be.

The truth, though, is much different than you think. His playful teasing with the class rep, the touch of his hand on her arm - none of it means what you imagine. Those moments are nothing more than Jaeyun’s natural warmth, his easy way of making people feel seen and listened to.

What you fail to see is how he treats you compared to others. While you work yourself up about his passive flirting with others, you miss the way his hand lingers on your thigh as he laughs at your terrible jokes, or the way his head leans against your shoulder even when he’s wide awake, just because he wants to be as close to you as humanly possible.

You overlook how his fingers absentmindedly stroke your hair while you’re talking to someone else, craving your presence even when he’s surrounded by a dozen others. You miss how his hugs linger just a little longer, tracing his fingers along your spine with his eyes closed like he’s memorising the feel of you until he can hold you again. And you don’t notice the mushrooms he always takes from your pizza, already knowing you hate the texture.

All these quiet, unspoken gestures of care - so clear, so telling - slip past you, just like his lingering gaze did on the first day.

Before you realise it, a year has flown by, and you and Jaeyun are inseparable. There isn’t a moment you’re not by his side or at least texting him, sharing every little thought and detail of your lives. You’ve never been happier. Your crush on him lingers, still strong but carefully restrained, tucked away where it can’t harm the bond you’ve built. He’s like a constrictor knot, holding you close through everything, keeping you afloat. The last thing you want is to unravel it with something as fragile and messy as unrequited love.

While you feel content, Jaeyun is quietly begrudging. Tonight, you have a date - with someone who isn’t him. It’s become a pattern since you turned sixteen. You meet someone, believe they might be the one, and when it inevitably falls apart, you cry to Jaeyun, convinced you’re unlovable. To you, it’s just teenage naivety, silly and fleeting. To him, it’s a slow ache that twists deeper each time.

There is nothing Jaeyun wants more than to treat you the way you deserve. All those boys you date don’t hold even a match to you. You shine so brightly that you might as well be a massive neon sign in the pitch darkness and they’re just soaking up your rays, dimming you as you run out of battery.

Still, Jaeyun helps you. He always does. And tonight, he helps you pick out a dress, one that makes you look as though you’re the only girl in the world. His only girl. The pink sundress fits perfectly, flowing gently around your frame.

Should he consider giving you terrible recommendations to make you look unappealing? Suggest wearing a pair of his sweatpants and the food stained tshirt you like to wear when you’re lazing about in his room? He would, of course he would, but the problem is you.

You look fucking beautiful in everything you wear; doesn’t matter if it’s a beautiful dress or the comfiest Sunday lounge wear, you look like an angel in it all, and unfortunately every man can see that too - even sixteen year old boys who don’t know how to handle you the way you deserve.

“Is this okay?” you ask, turning to the mirror as you scrutinizing and overanalyse your reflection. You’re not delusional - you know you’re not the prettiest girl in the world. But in moments like this, you just hope to look good enough.

Jaeyun watches you, noticing how your gaze lingers a little too long on your insecurities, the way your lips press together in doubt. It’s not the first time he’s noticed this - how the dates and rejections are wearing you down, little by little. And he hates it.

He steps closer, his presence solid behind you. “You look like a princess,” he says softly, his voice unwavering. “One any man would go to war for. Please never forget that.”

You pause, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone, and the way each word kisses your chest. The sunlight spills over you as you turn to him. “Be serious, Jake,” you scoff, a touch of irritation in your voice. “Can you just be serious for once?”

But he is serious. He’s never been more serious.

And then, like a sudden blow, it hits him - you don’t believe him. You never have.

For a year, Jaeyun has seen you, every single version of you: the confident you, the self-doubting you, the you in every shade of lipstick, every dress, every blush. He’s memorised the way you move, the way you smile, the way you try to hold yourself together even when you feel like falling apart. To him, every version of you is perfect.

He is borderline obsessed with you and he just wishes - no, begs - you to see how breathtaking you truly are. Angels come from heaven and tour earth just to catch a glimpse of someone as ethereal as you.

“I am serious,” he says firmly, his hands finding your shoulders, holding you steady - just like he did on the first day you met. His eyes search yours in the mirror, his voice low but resolute. “You look fucking beautiful.”

But the words don’t land the way he hopes. You tut dismissively, breaking the moment. “Yeah, well, if I were, I’d have a boyfriend by now, wouldn’t I?”

The words sting, sharp and cutting. Jaeyun feels something deep and visceral rise in his chest - an urge to yell, to shake you out of this cruel narrative you’ve built for yourself. To dispel and dismantle every horrible thought you have about yourself. But before he can find the words to truly hammer his sincerity into you, your phone buzzes.

You pick it up, slipping from his grasp. His hands fall empty at his sides as he watches you, frozen in place. You glance at the screen, a small smile forming. “Mark’s here. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You hug him quickly, a fleeting gesture that feels too light, too thin to hold him together. Then you’re gone, descending the stairs, leaving him standing there, staring at the mirror.

He doesn’t move. The sun dips lower, overtaken by thick clouds, and as the sky fades into night, Jaeyun stands in the quiet, a hollow ache spreading through him.

He wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s not enough - not for you.

The moon rises, casting pale light over a boy who feels more like a shadow.

_____

“This is so nice,” you comment as you glace around the diner Mark has taken you to. It’s not particularly fancy or romantic - just a small local spot with red vinyl booths and flickering fluorescent lights. But it’s fine. You’re teenagers, after all. Neither of you has the budget or the means to splurge on a five-star restaurant, so this is…nice, you suppose.

But it feels even nicer because you’re sitting across from Mark Lee - the most popular boy in school. When he asked you out, it felt like the world shifted slightly on its axis. You’d barely known he was aware of your existence let alone interested in taking you out on a date. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen. Wanted, even.

Of course, you know better than to let male attention dictate your self-worth. You’ve been trying to unlearn that instinct, slowly watering the feminist flower bud that you’ve been cultivating inside your chest. But tonight, that budding awareness is eclipsed by the thrill of being here, across from Mark fucking Lee.

He leans back in the booth, one arm draped casually over the top of the seat, not giving you a second glance. “Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” he says casually, glancing at the menu like he can’t wait to get this over with. His tone isn’t exactly dismissive but it’s not enthusiastic either. You chalk it up to nerves or that he’s trying to ‘play it cool’, kind of like Danny Zuko in Grease when he doesn’t want his friends to know that he is excited to see Sandy again.

And although you scream at Danny everytime the scene comes on, wishing Sandy took that as her warning to never speak to the loser again, you let it slide with Mark.

“I like it,” you offer again, trying to fill the silence. “It feels cozy. Like something out of an old movie, y’know those ones from the 60s?”

Mark raises an eyebrow, smirking faintly but not exactly intrigued. “You’re one of those artsy types, huh?”

The comment lands awkwardly, but you laugh anyway, brushing it off. “Maybe a little. I just think it has charm, you know?” So does Jaeyun, you think to yourself, suddenly missing his presence beside you.

“Sure,” he says, but he’s already looking past you, his attention pulled by something - or rather someone - near the counter.

You follow his gaze, but there’s nothing remarkable in the direction he’s staring. Just a couple of kids from school picking up takeout. One of them is Sojung, the girl every man wants to date and all the girls want to look like. It’s almost laughable how much this entire scenario feels like a stereotypical American high school movie.

As Sojung waves to your date, a faint unease settles in your chest, but you push it aside.

The waitress arrives, setting down two glasses of water and taking your orders. Mark orders a burger and fries without looking up from his phone, and when it’s your turn, interjects, saying you’ll have the same, not letting you speak for yourself.

You hate burgers, they’re gross and you’re borderline vegetarian, but he doesn’t know that. In fact, he hasn’t even asked you one thing since you’ve sat down. He doesn’t know you and you would think if you’re on a date, now would be the perfect time for him to question you about your likes and dislikes? Fuck, even if he asked you your favourite colour right now it would at least be something.

“So,” you begin, trying to stir up a semblance of conversation, “how’s soccer going? I heard you scored the winning goal last week.”

He grins, finally looking at you. “Yeah, that was fucking sick. Everyone went crazy, obviously. Coach even said it was one of the best plays he’s seen.” His tone is smug, pride and arrogance beaming over his face.

“That’s amazing!” you exclaim, genuinely impressed. Jaeyun plays football too but he’s defensive midfielder so he doesn’t get many opportunities to play a goal. Mark being the striker means he gets seen as the star player even though sometimes you do think Jaeyun is slightly better. “You must’ve been on top of the world, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, going back to his previous lounge position, conversation inconvenient to him once again. “But, like, it’s not a surprise, y’know? When you’re good at something, people expect you to deliver. And I always deliver.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His confidence borders on arrogance, but you tell yourself it’s part of his charm. After all, confidence is attractive, right? Jaeyun is confident, and he’s hot…so, so hot-

Before your brain goes down a dangerous path, the food arrives. The chips are perfectly crispy and you nibble at them slowly, hoping he wont notice that you’re not even entertaining the stacked burger. You wonder if you can box it up for Jaeyun.

For a while, the conversation flows a little more easily. Mark talks about soccer, his plans for college, and his favourite music. You listen intently, asking questions and laughing at his jokes, even when they’re not particularly funny or slightly rude.

But as the night wears on, cracks begin to show, suddenly finding it more difficult to see the good in him and the evening.

When you mention a book you’ve been reading, his eyes glaze over, almost rolling. “Not really my thing,” he says dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. You didn’t even got the author’s name out of your mouth. He doesn’t care. If it’s not about him, he could not be less bothered in paying attention.

But again, foolishly, you try to get him talking and make this dress worth it. You ask about his family, trying to get to know the man a little deeper. Yet, he shrugs. “They’re fine, I guess. Nothing exciting.”

Still nothing. Who doesn’t like to talk about their family? Good or bad.

You try to keep the conversation light, but his responses grow shorter, his attention drifting to literally anywhere but you. He checks his phone a few times, typing out quick replies to someone from under the table. You wonder who he’s texting but don’t dare ask, not wishing to upset him when it seems you’re already hanging onto him by a thread.

By the time the waitress brings the check, which you split, you’re doing most of the heavy lifting in the conversation, trying to keep things pleasant. You tell yourself he’s just tired or distracted, that he’s not really this disinterested. You’re delusioning yourself because how many dates do you have to go on before anyone actually gives a single fuck about you or wants to be here with you.

You don’t understand how these boys can ask to date you, then be so cold and distant when you agree. Granted, you aren’t exactly picking them well. They started off as dating anyone to distract you from your feelings towards your best friend, but now you’ve been more selective, and Mark was one boy you really wanted to have a connection with.

He’s funny and charming in school, kind and generous to teachers and those in the years below him. Of course, that’s why he is popular. But this boy in front of you is not the Mark you thought you knew. Even Jaeyun says nice things about him, being on the same team and all.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say as you step out of the diner, the cool evening air brushing against your warm skin.

“No problem,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks at you a little more intently than any other time this evening. “So, what now?”

The question hangs in the air, loaded with implications. You glance at him, unsure of what he means. You for sure thought that he was going to drive you home and that would be the end of it. He obviously isn’t interested, so why would he wish to continue the night?

“I don’t know,” you say cautiously. “I should probably head home. It’s getting late.” It’s the politest way to tell him that you don’t want to have to keep conversations going that are drier than the dessert during a wind storm.

Mark smirks, stepping closer. “Or…”, he places a hand on your waist as he steps closer, his presence now overwhelming all of your senses, and not in the nice way that Jaeyun’s were earlier. “We could hang out somewhere more private.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, stomach dropping as his face inches towards yours. “Private?” you echo, trying to keep your tone light, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “My place is empty tonight. We could…you know, have some fun.” Marks eyebrows wiggle and you feel a dizzy.

You’re heart and mind is screaming for Jaeyun.

The meaning is clear and it sends a jolt of panic through you. You’re not naive - you knew this was a possibility, but hearing him say it so casually feels jarring. It’s not like you gave him any hints that you’re down to fuck on a first date. You’ve never even fucked anyone at all, so the last thing you want is to lose it to a man who barely remembers your name.

“Mark, I don’t think-”

“Come on, lovely,” he interrupts, his tone shifting to something a little more foreceful. “It’s not a big deal. We’re both here, we’re both into each other, right?”

No. I’m not. We are not.

You take a step back, your heart pounding. “I just…I’m not ready for that, y’know? I don’t…do that.”

He exhales sharply, his smile faltering and shoulders tensing as he begins to feel the rejection wash over his body. Clearly, he’s not used to such a thing. “Seriously? You’re not one of those girls, are you? Haven’t you been on like a million and one dates?” His words spit across your cheek like you’ve just been slapped. “Not one of those guys has managed ti hit it?”

The question rocks you and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Is that why he asked you out? Just for a quick fuck? This happened once before, with a guy from band but at least he made his intentions clear as soon as the date started and he left you alone once he knew you weren’t going to lay on his navy sheets.

“I think I should go,” you say finally, your voice shaking as you step back from him.

Mark rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he follows your steps. “You’re for real a fucking virgin? You’re not playing?” You don’t know why he doesn’t believe you and it makes you wonder about the rumours echoing in the hallways of your school. “So I just wasted my fucking time?”

It’s poetically ironic how he is finally asking you questions about yourself. But this isn’t exactly what you wanted. This is belittling, as if being a virgin is anything to be ashamed of. You don’t really care about your virginity, you just want to have sex with someone who loves you, or at least could give a single fuck about your existance. Clealry, two things he doesn’t possess in his heart for you.

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning and walking off without a backward glance. “Whatever, man. Don’t fucking lead guys on like that.” He laughs bitterly before getting into his car and driving off without you, leaving you stranded and hurt.

You stand there for a moment, the night pressing in around you. A cold, hollow ache has replaced the warmth and excitement you felt earlier. Is this all you’re worth?

As you make your way home, you replay the evening in your mind, trying to find something good to hold onto. But it’s hard. Mark wasn’t who you thought he was, and you can’t help but feel foolish for ever thinking otherwise. Part of you wonders if you should have just given in, went to his place and fucked him to get all of this over with.

But that’s not you and that is not how you should think. You are not defined by your sexual experience and Mark should see the person you are past your body and what it can offer him. You are a real person who wanted to get to know him, understand him and if all went well, get into a relationship with him.

Since when was that so wrong?

Your mind turns and twists with thoughts, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling your insides as you begin the long walk home, desperate to see the one boy who can make this all better.

_____

It’s 9pm now and Jaeyun hasn’t heard a word from you. Not a text to say it’s going well or one to say you’re home. He begins to imagine the worst; kidnapping, death, falling down a ditch, a Scooby-Doo villain coming to snatch you from Mark’s arms. His worries are not unprecedented - you’re always back by 8 pm latest, knowing that your family don’t like you out late. So he texts you, trying to come across as casual and not like a possessive best friend who jumped to worst-case scenarios.

Jaeyun: Y/N, are you okay? Did everything go well? Text me when you can

An incoming call flashes on his phone almost immediately after he presses sends. Princess. You don’t know that’s your name on his phone, but for some reason having just your name feels insincere and distant. Jaeyun doesn’t like that feeling, plus, it gives him a second of delusion.

He clicks the answer button and is immediately met with your shaky voice, the effects of being out of breath and stranded in the cold.

“Jaeyun?” you ask as if you didn’t hit the call button yourself. You were in the middle of writing a message when he sent one instead.

Jaeyun’s heart sinks at the sound of your voice. Shaky, uncertain, and laced with something he can’t quite place - fear? Sadness? Either way, it’s not good, and his grip on the phone tightens as he sits up in his bed, alert and alarmed.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you?” His words come out rushed, his mind racing as he hears the faint rustles of cars and the wind crackle through your receiver. It means you aren’t home and are in high chance of being in danger. Maybe he was right to worry after all.

There’s a pause on your end, long enough to make his chest tighten. Then, you exhale shakily. “I…I’m fine,” you start, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. “I’m just…not where I want to be right now.” You want to be beside him.

He glances at the clock. 9:03pm and his knee begins to bounce with restless energy as he tries to piece together what’s happening. “Are you still with Mark?”

“No,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. “I- He left a while ago.” Another pause, and then a bitter laugh escapes you. “He ditched me after possibly one of the worst dates of my life.”

Jaeyun’s chest floods with relief at the fact Mark is away from you. Although you’re alone and that sets unease into the pit of his stomach, there’s reassurance with the fact that you’re not with the striker. Mark is a nice guy - as far as Jaeyun knows - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still cautious about the boy. He is still a man after all.

“Are you walking? Y/N, it’s late, and it’s fucking freezing. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Jaeyun immediately stands to attention and grabs his jacket, already anticipating that he will be running to wherever you are.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admit softly, and the words hit him harder than he expects.

“Bother me?” he echoes, already grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Y/N, you could never bother me. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Jaeyun, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t argue,” he cuts you off firmly, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Just stay put, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes. Send me your location, yeah?”

You don’t reply, but the faint sound of your sniffle on the other end makes his chest ache. “Okay,” you finally whisper, and he can hear the gratitude in your voice. You really didn’t want to disturb him, but if you can’t turn to him, who can you run to?

It’s selfish, but you need him.

He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket and bolting out the door. The cold night air hits him and it only enrages him more; how could Mark leave you like this? Shaking the thoughts away, he focuses his mind on what matters right now. You. Finding you and making sure you’re okay. He can deal with Mark another day.

And trust that he will.

—

The sharpness of the wind cuts through your thin jacket as you drag your feet along the pavement, your arms tightly crossed over your chest. Anger and sadness bubble and twirl inside of you, fueling your steps and helping to keep the cold at bay. Adrenaline acts as an electric blanket under your skin and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful that your body gets overly attached to your emotions.

Then you hear it.

“Y/N!”

That familiar, sweet Australian accent drifts through the night as it dances past the whistle of the wind, laced with a mix of relief and frustration. You glance up to see Jaeyun running toward you, his breath visible in the frosty air. There’s a small smile on his face, but you can see right through it, of course you can; you’ve known him long enough to recognise the worry etched into his features, the simmering anger in his eyes.

Your legs instinctively quicken and as he gets closer, you feel the tension in your body begin to dissolve. By the time you meet him halfway, your arms are already reaching for him, and he’s there - steady, warm, and exactly what you need.

Jaeyun wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you close. His hoodie smells faintly of laundry detergent and that musk that is so distinctly him. His embrace is firm, possessive, and impossibly comforting. The heat of his body seeps into you, melting the ice that had taken root in your chest.

“What the fuck were you thinking walking out here alone?” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with exasperation. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to chase away the cold. “It’s freezing, Y/N. And dark, you don’t know who is lurking in the shadows.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “I couldn’t stay there and I didn’t want to have you catch a bus all the way into the main city.”

Jaeyun’s arms tighten around you, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You should’ve called me. I would have gotten a taxi and come to pick you up or got Jay to drive me. He’s got his permit now.”

You simply look down, ashamed that he even had to come to your rescue in the first place. You would say you’re quite independent, so to rely on him so much feels shameful all of a sudden. It’s different when it’s a slight inconvenience, you don’t mind pestering him to come help you with homework or to go shopping with you. But this is pulling him out to come save you. That’s embarrassing…Perhaps you shouldn’t have called.

But you need him. Only him.

Jaeyun studies you for a moment, his eyes softening as he takes in your flushed cheeks and trembling frame, the cogs in your mind working overtime with little payoff. “Here,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The warmth is immediate, and the scent of him envelops you completely. “Better?”

You nod again, clutching the fabric tightly around you. “Yeah,” you bite your lip, the burning in the back of your throat raw and overwhelming.

He tilts his head toward the direction of your house, noting how you’re two seconds away from bursting into hysterical tears. “Come on, let’s get you home, Y/N. Your mum’s probably worried.”

Nodding, you let him take your hand as you fall into step beside him, the sound of your footsteps filling the quiet night. Even this simple touch instils some peace into your overworked body. You still can’t get over Mark and his comments, his expectations of you to just drop your pants and let him…

“I thought he liked me,” you say softly, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt.

Jaeyun’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets out a slow breath before speaking, making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I know how excited you were about tonight. But just think about the bullet you dodged, yeah?”

You stare down at the pavement, his words sinking in. “I just…I thought he was different,” you admit, your breath fogging up in the cold air. “But he wasn’t even listening to me. And then he…” You trail off, not wanting to say the rest out loud.

Your trail off causes Jaeyun to pause his steps, his hand squeezing yours tightly to halt your own feet. “What do you mean? What the fuck did he do?” Jaeyun doesn’t get angry. The only instance you’ve ever seen him get mad was on the pitch after he received a red card and got subbed.

But this is also a different kind of rage, it’s more abrupt and sudden. His eyes search yours to make sure anything you tell him in the next few minutes isn’t a lie to protect Mark or downplay anything that happened tonight.

Seeing his rage begin to build, you shake your head vigorously. “No! No, no, nothing like that I promise,” you bite your lips together. “He wanted to, but I told him no.”

“What a fucking cu-”

“Jaeyun, it’s okay. He didn’t force anything but he was pretty pissed,” you further explain, hoping the heaving in his chest subsides. Jaeyun isn’t violent but you can see a lust for blood as his mind spirals.

“I should kill him,” he begins, stepping closer to you. “You deserve way better than that. So much fucking better, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and self-deprecating. It feels like every ounce of doubt you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way out. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just not-”

“Don’t.” His voice cuts through your words with a finality that makes you stop. The intensity in his gaze is unyielding as he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, as if tethering you to the truth he wants you to believe. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing, Y/N. And if some guy can’t see that, then that’s his loss. Not yours. Who gives a fuck if it’s Mark Lee or Mark Henry?”

The unexpected humour in his words pulls a reluctant laugh from you, easing some of the tension knotting your chest. He always seems to know just the right thing to say. You envy him for that, and adore him all the same.

“You deserve someone who wants to be with you with zero expectations,” he continues, his voice soft but firm, willing you to understand his point of view. “Got it?”

You manage a faint smile, but the weight of his words settles heavily in your throat, forming a lump you can’t quite swallow. He means every syllable - you can hear it in his voice, see it in the conviction in his eyes. Yet, no matter how much you want to believe him, these part few months of disappointment and hurt have left you too bruised to take it to heart. His words sound like a lie whispered into the wind.

“Why can’t I just find someone to love me?” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself.

At that, Jaeyun’s hand loosens from yours, the reassuring warmth slipping away. His entire demeanour shifts, and when you glance up at him, his eyes are no longer fierce with determination. Instead, they glaze over with something raw and unspoken, a sheen of unshed tears.

“Jaeyun…what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tentative as you try to piece together what’s happening. He doesn’t usually switch emotions so easily, so randomly. Honestly, you were expecting him to tell you to shut up and behave yourself, the way he sometimes does dismissively to stop you talking about being unlikable. He doesn’t wave it off cruelly, but rather because he knows you’ll just overthink and get even more upset.

Little do you know he just does it to protect himself. The thought of you with anyone else enough to spiral him into despair for at least two days.

He exhales shakily as the weigh of his feelings becomes too difficult to shoulder. “Am I not enough?” he whispers, his voice barely audible, carried to your ears only by the breath of the night air. The desperation in his tone sends a jolt through you, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“What…?” you begin, confused, the pieces of the puzzle slipping through your fingers.

“Why is it never me you choose?” he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “Why is it always everyone and anyone else? Why can’t it ever just fucking be me?”

His jaw clenches as a single tear escapes, tracing a glistening path down his cheek. It’s a rare sight, his sadness, usually so determined to bottle it all away and deal with the consequences once it gets too much. And that seems to be tonight. They’re spilling over, months of buried feelings breaking free. He doesn’t mean for the words to sound bitter, but they do, tinged with exhaustion and a quiet plea for understanding.

You’re stunned, stuck to the spot as his confession echoes through you. It’s as though the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you grasping for clarity amidst the absolute carnage of your mind. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself yet the silence that stretches between you is deafening, making him that much more self-conscious.

You know you need to respond, to say something, but the words catch in your throat, refusing to come.

Jaeyun mistakes your silence for rejection. His shoulders slump further, and he looks away, his gaze falling to the ground. “I…I shouldn’t have said anything. I…” His voice trails off, broken, as he takes a step back.

“Jaeyun,” you manage as your voice comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t look at you, already gearing himself to lose you forever. After all, how many times does this happen? The guy ruins a friendship with a girl because they’re unable to just keep things platonic. It’s not like he wanted to develop these feelings, but you’re his true love and he knows it deep down, that’s why this hurts so much.

He would rather have you in his life as a friend than not at all, and he might have just royally fucked that up.

“Jaeyun, please. Look at me.” When he doesn’t respond, you step closer, your voice firmer this time. “What are you saying?” When he finally glances up, the anguish in his eyes steals your breath.

It’s not or never, Jake. Might as well go all in, he encourages himself despite his doubts.

“You give everyone else your time, your attention. You put on those cute dresses for guys who don’t even deserve to look at you. I’m not saying I even deserve the honour of looking at you, but…” His voice falters as he struggles to find the right words. Then, with a renewed intensity, he meets your gaze. “Can’t I at least get a chance to prove that might?”

There’s a quiet longing in his expression, an innocent yearning for something real and pure. The sight of his tears, the jagged edge to his breathing, the raw vulnerability he’s showing you now - it’s overwhelming for both of you. Your heart aches for him, for the boy who’s always been there, quietly waiting for something you never realised was possible.

Jaeyun likes you.

Without hesitation, your hands reach for him, cupping his face gently. You wipe the stray tears from his cheeks, the warmth of his anguish a contrast to the cold breeze that washes over you both.

“Sim Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you pluck the courage to tell him your feelings. It’s only right to lay yourself bare just as he has. “You are everything I have ever wanted.”

The truth spills from your lips like a revelation, as clear and beautiful as the moonlight bathing the two of you in light. You’ve never told him why those dates never worked out. Mark may have been a particular kind of awful, but the others? The others failed simply because they weren’t him. They weren’t Jaeyun. With every small gesture he made, every thoughtful word he spoke, he set a standard no one else could meet. And you compared them all to him, unknowingly sabotaging every potential chance of getting a boyfriend because they fell short of the boy standing before you now.

“I didn’t think I was an option for you,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your honest emotions. “So I kept looking for someone who wanted me back. But none of them were you.” The last words are barely audible, but the quiet of the night amplifies them like a shout.

Jaeyun’s breath catches, and he feels the tightness in his chest ease for the first time in what feels like forever. He can’t speak, doesn’t trust himself to find the right words, so instead, he pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on your shoulder, one hand gripping your waist while the other finds its way into your hair, holding you close. Disbelief and shock course through his veins at your confession, so he clings to you tighter, scared that he might wake up.

Because in what world does Y/N L/N like him back? Since when? How? Why?

“You’re so stupid,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your shoulder. The words make him wince as soon as they’re out but you thankfully laugh softly, not taking them too harshly to heart. When he pulls back, his hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he searches your eyes for something - permission, perhaps, or reassurance.

And then you kiss him, giving him everything he could want within this moment.

It’s soft and a little apprehensive, your lips barely moving against his. But it’s enough. Enough to convey your deep thoughts, enough to make the world fade away until it’s just the two of you. The air around you feels warmer as if the moon has been replaced with the blazing sun.

The kiss is so sweet and innocent, your mouths telling each other all the times you missed out on confessing, each time that the words of your feelings reached the tip of your tongues. You slowly lick his bottom lip and he groans, finally snapping out of his trance and pulling you impossibly closer by your waist as his tongue caresses yours.

From the very moment your lips meld with his, Jaeyun shares every first with you.

—

The next day carries a completely different energy, a newness in the air that’s almost tangible. Everything feels brighter, saturation turned up 100%, as if hope has stitched itself into the fabric of your life. It could be the overwhelming joy of finally being with Jaeyun after all this time. It feels surreal like a fever dream you’re afraid to wake from, having lived so long in the liminal space between delusion and denial.

But Sim Jaeyun is yours - officially yours. You wonder if you’ve ever jacked off a leprechaun in a past life with how impossibly lucky you’ve gotten.

Walking into school together that morning, you hold his hand. Jaeyun has taken your hand plenty of times before, but this is different. This time, his fingers weave through yours with quiet confidence, declaring to the world that you are his. His love. It sends a thrill through you, enough to plant a shit-eating grin on your face so wide it feels permanent, as if even the toughest mix of Pink Stuff and a Scrub Daddy couldn’t remove it.

At first, no one notices the shift in your relationship; you’ve always been inseparable and clingy. But when Jaeyun kisses you so tenderly outside your first period maths class, it catches people’s attention. Whispers ripple through the hallways: "Finally" and "Weren’t they already dating?" follow you both throughout the day. Jaeyun doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he takes every opportunity to kiss you - soft, fleeting pecks on your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, anywhere that he can land his mouth on you, trying to make up for all the times he wanted to but didn’t.

All those sleepovers when he stayed awake, watching you sleep peacefully beside him - he didn’t kiss you. The times you edged closer to him at the cinema during scary or tense moments - he didn’t kiss you. Even at family gatherings, when it was just the two of you swaying on the dance floor as your drunk aunts and his uncles disappeared into the night - he held back. Now, though, he doesn’t have to. And he won’t let his lips forget the feeling of yours.

“Go on a date with me,” Jaeyun says suddenly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Pausing outside of your physics class - his favourite subject but arguably your least - you look up at him, curiosity tilting your head. “A date?” Your fingers remain interlocked with his, and you begin to swing them gently back and forth. Your heart flutters at the idea of a date with Jaeyun, one where you don’t feel the pressure to impress because he already adores you just as you are. He’s made that abundantly clear. “When?”

“Tomorrow. There’s an outdoor cinema that just opened, and they’re showing ‘Labyrinth.’” His eyes sparkle knowingly as he mentions your favourite film. “I already bought the tickets, so you have no choice but to come with me.” He seals the deal with a kiss on your forehead.

While the gesture makes you smile, your brow furrows. “But you hate ‘Labyrinth.’ You said it’s too weird that David Bowie is trying to seduce a teenager.”

The first time you showed him the 1986 classic, he had been eager to dive into your favourite fantasy world. However, that enthusiasm evaporated quickly, replaced by incredulity at the abundance of crotch-shots and bizarre farting bog. Suffice to say, he didn’t share your affection for it.

“True,” he admits, his lips curling into a sly smile, “but it’s your favourite movie. And as your boyfriend, I think I can look past the unnecessary bulges and questionable age gaps for you.”

Your head tilts in amused disbelief. “You know they don’t actually date, right? He’s just infatuated with her innocence.” You pause, and then it hits you. “Oh...okay, now I see what you mean.”

He laughs at your realisation, the sound bright and unguarded - the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Well,” he says, his voice softer now, “this time, you can watch it with fresh eyes.” He kisses you again, his lips lingering against yours as he whispers, “So, come with me?”

It doesn’t take you a second before you nod, pecking his lips in return as a definite sign of agreeance. “You’ve ruined my favourite movie for me, but since it’s you, I’ll allow it.”

“Good. The tickets are nonrefundable.” He pulls you into his arms, laughing as your head rests against his chest. You feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, fast but comforting. The same heart that holds a space for you inside of it.

This - this is what you love. How nothing between you has really changed. Emotions have simply heightened, blossoming into something more profound. Jaeyun is still Jaeyun, but now he’s yours. The shackles of both of you keeping your feelings buried held you back from all of this love, all this time you could have just been with one another unapologetically. No guilt about feelings or potentially ruining your friendship, now it’s freedom.

“I’ve got practice,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you, warmth blushes over his cheeks as he sees the adoration for him in your pupils. “I’ll text you when it’s over and we can walk home.” He kisses you for the nth time, his gaze lingering. “Don’t miss me too much, baby.”

The unexpected pet name turns your cheeks crimson, and you swat his chest playfully, still not sure how to handle the giddiness in your chest every time he does something slightly romantic. “I think it’s more likely you’ll be the one missing me.”

“I always do,” he replies without hesitation, his voice rich with sincerity.

_____

As the day of your first date approaches, anticipation bubbles in your stomach. Thirty minutes - just thirty minutes stand between you and an entirely new chapter with Jaeyun. Your nerves tangle as you try to steady your breathing, your mind racing. You’ve been on dates before, but there was always the comfort of reminding yourself, At least it’s not Jaeyun.

But now it is Jaeyun. And that changes everything.

The sundress you spent hours picking out suddenly feels wrong. What if he doesn’t like it? What if you look frumpy when you sit down? The issue with going on a date with Jaeyun and not some random boy is that you can’t ask his opinion on your outfit. He always helped you out and now when it matters most, you need to decide for yourself and trust yourself. Not very fair.

You stand in front of the mirror, scrutinising every possible angle he could see you from, tugging at the hem, twisting this way and that to see which lines and folds are more prominent than others. Jaeyun has seen you in every state - from sleep-deprived to sick - and he’s never batted an eye. It couldn’t be worse than that, right? But somehow, those thoughts don’t ease your anxiety.

Just as the golden sun begins to flood through your window, a firm knock echoes from the front door. You cast one last glance over yourself in the mirror, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles before a final spritz of perfume. Jaeyun’s favourite is something light and citrus, he says it makes everything feel effortless, and that’s exactly what you need this first date to be.

Another knock follows, this time a little sharper. You dart down the stairs, your heart pounding, and open the door in a hurry. “Sorry, I was just finishing getting ready,” you say, the words spilling out before the door is even fully open.

Jaeyun’s breath catches. He stands there, rendered speechless, his eyes sweeping over you in quiet awe. The sundress - a blue as soft and endless as the June sky - drapes over you perfectly, your hair cascading past your shoulders, held back by two delicate white bows. He’s grown used to tucking the strands they held behind your ear, knowing how much they annoy you. But now that excuse to touch you has vanished. Then again, he doesn’t need an excuse anymore, not now that you’re his.

His gaze lingers on your neck, catching the faint shimmer of your perfume’s dewy mist, and suddenly he feels absurdly underdressed in his beige trousers, white top, and denim vest. The outfit that had seemed so effortlessly cool this morning now feels naively foolish.

You shift nervously under his gaze, mistaking his silence for something else entirely. Is he trying to think of a compliment because he hates it? The thought ties a knot in your stomach. Is he disappointed?

You’re both stupid. Stupidly in love as you overthink.

“You look,” he finally begins, his voice softer than usual as he tries to collect himself, his accent thick and heavy, “you look like you’re the muse for the stars.” He pauses, his words feeling inadequate for the way you’ve left him feeling. It isn’t everything he wants to say, but it’s all he can manage. He wants to write you Shakespeare-level sonnets, to tell you everything you have ever needed and wanted to hear but he’s fumbling hard as he watches you nervously shift your feet and bite your lip.

A flush warms your cheeks, and a flutter runs up your spine. You glance at him, expecting him to meet your gaze, but his eyes are busy drinking in every detail. There’s a strange intensity on his face - something you’ve seen in films but never truly believed you’d experience in real life.

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, your voice catching slightly as you reach for your jacket hanging on the wooden rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” The word escapes him in a whisper, carried on a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he avoids direct eye contact. It’s as if he’s afraid meeting your gaze will betray all the things he’s too scared to say. He watches you shrug on your white jacket, slightly creased but perfect to him all the same. That jacket - he’s always loved it on you. Then again, there isn’t anything he doesn’t love on you. You could wear a burlap sack, and he’d still think you were the most beautiful girl to grace the earth.

—

The walk to the outdoor movie theatre is filled with random snippets of conversation, the kind you’d expect from two people who have been friends for years yet feel the exhilarating newness of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Still, Jaeyun never quite meets your eyes. His gaze flickers to your profile when he thinks you’re not looking, admiring the way the evening sunlight dances off your hair or the soft curve of your smile when you laugh at one of his god-awful jokes.

His thoughts are a mess. She’s too beautiful. Is this real? Am I staring too much? And every time the wind catches your hair and brushes it behind your ear, his lungs forget that they have an important job to do, and he has to force himself to refocus on not tripping over his own feet.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you tease as you nudge his arm. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jaeyun’s ears burn at the passing compliment - secretly enjoying being called pretty more than hot or handsome - and he quickly shakes his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Nothing,” he lies, but his grin betrays him. It’s embarrassing enough that you’ve caught him acting weird, never mind him spilling his guts out and telling the reason for his awkward chuckles and lack of eye contact is because you’re too beautiful that his brain short-circuits.

“Liar,” you quip, giggling softly but letting him keep his secrets.

Before either of you realise, you’ve arrived at the outdoor theatre. Fairy lights are strung around the area, draping the venue in a warm, golden glow as the sun begins its descent. A soft murmur of chatter fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of popcorn and freshly cut grass. Jaeyun hands the tickets to the attendant, and you both scan the crowd for a spot.

It’s busier than he thought it would be; people must really like hobgoblins and nonces.

“Over there,” you say excitedly, pointing to a small patch on the left. It’s snug and as private as an outdoor venue can be. A tree curves over the spot, creating a romantic setting as the leaves blossom and some fall around you.

Jaeyun pulls a blanket out of his bag as well as a packet of strawberry laces - your favourite. The sight of them, along with some other of your desired snacks, makes your heart swell. “Thanks, Jaeyun,” you say softly, settling into a comfortable position and draping the blanket over your legs.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, placing the sweets between you two. As he rifles through his bag for the drinks, you catch yourself staring at him. The soft denim vest he’s wearing accentuates his broad shoulders, and the way his jaw flexes, while he concentrates, sends your heart into a free fall.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, your voice almost shy.

Jaeyun quickly glances at you, his smile soft. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, just say the word,” he replies, his tone casual but the sincerity in his words is undeniable. He has such a beautiful way of making you feel like loving you is effortless. Even as your best friend, his love for you was second nature.

You never thank him enough for that.

The movie begins just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the theatre in red twilight. You shift closer to him, your knees brushing his thigh as the blanket falls. Without thinking, Jaeyun places his hand on your knee, his thumb grazing under fabric of your dress. The contact sends a jolt through you, and your breath hitches, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s an innocent gesture, one that he isn’t a stranger to. But this is a little different; now you can really take notice of each touch he gives you, no longer having to bottle up how it makes you feel to have his skin on yours.

As you try to focus on the film, your eyes flicker downward to his arm and fuck was it a bad decision. The veins in his forearm protrude, dancing with the subtle flex of his fingers against your knee. It makes your stomach knot in ways that have nothing to do with nerves. You swallow hard, but your mouth feels dry - all the moisture from your tongue now dripped down to your heat.

You have never been so horny in your life.

Jaeyun notices you shift beside him and leans in to whisper, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, Y/N?”

You nod quickly, your cheeks burning as you force yourself to look at the screen. But now, all you can notice is Jareth’s outfit - and more specifically, the…prominent tent of his trousers.

Was it always that in-your-face? you wonder, squirming slightly.

Jaeyun’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts as he nudges your shoulder. “You think I could pull off that outfit?” he asks, pointing to the screen with a smirk. He can sense something wrong with you - what that is, he doesn’t quite know - but the one thing that always dissipates any unease within you is humour.

Normally, you’d laugh and fire back a sarcastic remark, but the thought of him in those trousers, of what they’d accentuate, well that makes heat flood your face and panties stick to you.

It’s not that you’ve never thought about Jaeyun sexually, of course, you have. You’re a girl at the end of the day and your hormones are all over the place, sad, horny, excited, depressed, hyper, you experience all the emotions mountains high. And as much as you’re telling yourself not to get too carried away - after all, he just became your boyfriend yesterday - your mind has other plans. It’s been waiting for him, your body has been craving him as it tries to work out how to control the lust you’ve decided to develop.

You manage a weak chuckle, hoping the inner turmoil your facing doesn’t show on your face. But your lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” he says, his brow furrowing as his hand slides up your thigh.

The sudden pressure is too much, his fingerprints kissing your sensitive skin. So you do what any girl would do; you jolt upright, nearly knocking over the strawberry laces in your haste and avoid the situation altogether.

“I-I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?” you stammer, not waiting for his response before grabbing your bag and practically bolting to the concession stand.

Jaeyun watches you go, confusion etched right across his face. What the fuck was that? As he replays every single second from the past few moments. You sat down, grabbed the blanket, and watched the movie. He noticed you were a little off and trailed his hand up your thigh-

His eyes widen in horror. Oh no. No, no, no. I crossed a line, didn’t I? I made her uncomfortable. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He buries his face in his hands, groaning quietly. After what happened with Mark a few days ago, after explaining how you deserve someone with no expectations of you to give anything like that in return, he goes and makes you uncomfortable.

He didn’t even mean it like that, but how else are you meant to take his groping of your thigh if not hormonal horn?

Meanwhile, you’re dealing with your own panic as you stand at the brightly lit stand, trying to cool down. What is wrong with me? you think, tapping your card against the reader as you order two drinks - grape for him and strawberry for yourself.

This is Jaeyun. My boyfriend. My best friend. The person I’ve known for years and yet, somehow, tonight feels different. It’s as though every wall that’s ever been between us has crumbled, leaving nothing but raw vulnerability and an unbearable awareness of him.

Why are you suddenly just so…aware of him? The way his shirt clings to his chest, the slope of his jaw as it tenses when he laughs, and the way his hair falls just slightly into his eyes, make you want to reach up and push it back. Maybe this is why people say bottling things up only makes them spill over. Because once the cap comes off, it’s impossible to stop the flood.

And right now years of want and need are flooding. Overflowing.

When you return from the stand, two drinks in hand, Jaeyun’s waiting, his leg bouncing slightly as though he’s nervous. The moment you hand him his grapeade, his fingers brush yours, and he mutters a soft, “Thanks, Y/N.” His smile is polite but stiff, and he shifts slightly, leaving a noticeable gap between you on the blanket. The movement is subtle, but it feels like a canyon has opened between you. Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

He thinks I’m uncomfortable. The realisation hits like a punch. He thinks he did something wrong, and now you’ve ruined the date.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s focused on the screen, but his posture is rigid, his hands clasped tightly around the bottle. He looks like he’s trying too hard to blend in, to take up less space, and it makes your heart ache. You know he’s overthinking, blaming himself for a moment you caused by being incapable of keeping your thoughts - indecent and overwhelming as they are - under control.

Perhaps if you were a little more confident, you could play it off. Flirt back. Create some playful tension. Isn’t that what people do on dates? But instead, you’re stuck in your head, wrestling with your own feelings and second-guessing every move.

The rest of the movie passes in silence, save for the blare of the soundtrack and the occasional rustle of Jaeyun reaching for snacks. You try to focus on the film, humming along softly to familiar songs, but your thoughts are louder than the speakers. You can feel his glances, those fleeting looks that linger for a second too long before darting away, and they remind you so much of the way you used to look at him before you were together. The way you’d steal glimpses, full of longing, wondering if he’d ever see you the same way.

Now, it feels like you’re back there again, standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall. The distance between you feels unbearable.

As the credits roll and the crowd begins to disperse, you both stand, brushing crumbs from your clothes, your dress creased and suddenly all that fuss earlier in the evening feels wasted.

The walk home is quiet, the tension so thick it feels like you’re wading through it. Neither of you speaks, both lost in your own twisted thoughts, blaming yourselves for something none of you are aware of. Your hands swing awkwardly at your sides, never quite brushing his but longing to lock your fingers into his, and it’s enough to drive you mad.

When you finally reach your doorstep, the words come spilling out simultaneously. “Jaeyun, I—-” “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You stop, blinking at each other in surprise. His head dips, his gaze fixed on the ground, and he shuffles his feet. “Y/N, you don’t have to say anything. I know I messed up.”

“What?” you ask, frowning.

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he continues, his voice strained. “I mean, on your thigh. It was stupid and inappropriate, and I made you uncomfortable. I-I should’ve known better. Especially after what happened with that prick.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. When they do, your heart sinks. “Jaeyun, no,” you say softly, stepping closer. You reach out, taking his hand in yours, and he looks up, his eyes filled with guilt. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

His brows furrow, confusion evident. “Then why did you-”

“I was turned on, okay?!” you blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. Your hand flies to your mouth, your eyes wide in horror. Did you seriously just admit that so blase? You have zero shame apparently, but deep down you know you have to tell him the truth or else he will continue to blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

There’s a beat of silence, your horny confession sucking the cold air away from you and filling you both with burning heat.

Then, Jaeyun’s lips twitch, and before you know it, he’s laughing. Not just chuckling, but full-on doubling over, his hands on his knees as he lets out a loud, hearty laugh. All the anxiety and apprehension totally vanished and replaced with relief and amusement.

“Jaeyun!” you groan, your face burning. You swat at his shoulder, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, straightening up. He’s grinning now, his cheeks pink from laughter, and his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “You were turned on?”

You glare at him, your embarrassment reaching new heights. “Stop saying it!”

But he’s not done. He steps closer, his hands cupping your face, and suddenly all the teasing is gone. His expression softens, his eyes searching yours. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “I thought I crossed the line.”

You shake your head, your hands slipping around his waist. “You didn’t, I promise. I just got…” you whisper, trailing off as to not repeat it again.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. The kiss is nothing like the ones you’ve shared previous. It’s urgent, almost desperate, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that leaves you breathless. His hand slides to your throat, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw as his silver ring presses coolly against your skin. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his wet muscle teasing yours.

The mix of all your emotions swirls as his tongue laps yours in reassuring strokes, his hand tightening on your neck, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for his touch, you might float away, all of your insides turned to flames as your body acts like a hot air balloon.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips, his voice filled with need.

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, as though the space between you is too much to bear. The world around you fades, and all that exists is him - the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, the sound of his ragged breathing.

Jaeyun snakes one of his arms around your waist, pulling your hips to his as you feel him growing against you. The sensation causes you to both harmonise a moan as you completely meld into one another.

If you weren’t horny before, you certainly are now.

And then, just as you both begin to get excited about what the night could hold, the porch light flicks on, flooding the driveway with a blinding light.

“Shit,” Jaeyun mutters, pulling back as he glances at the door. “Your mum’s going to kill me if she sees us like this.”

You try to pull him back, not really caring about the impending danger of your mother’s scolding. It’s not like she would care if you are both dating, but being caught while you practically try to hump him might cause her to never let Jaeyun in your house again. Goodbye sleepovers, goodbye midnight hangouts on the weekends, and certainly goodbye to closing the door.

Pulling him back, you shake your head adamantly, muttering a soft ‘nu-uh’ as you capture his mouth with yours. Jaeyun can’t help but give in for a second, gripping your waist tightly as he groans in both frustration and pleasure.

Once he hears the loud, heavy footsteps of your mum padding down the stairs, Jaeyun reluctantly pulls away, his breath mingling with yours as his forehead rests against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t leave you hanging, though. Instead, he peppers your lips with a series of soft, teasing kisses - each one lighter than the last, as if he’s trying to wean you off him. A playful smirk tugs at his lips when he plants a final, lingering peck.

“To be continued, yeah?” he whispers, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. There’s something about knowing the effect he has on you, it really makes him realise that this is definitely more than just friendship for you, that line crossed so quickly. His words linger in the air, filled with promises of what’s to come.

Before you can answer, he darts off, bolting down the driveway, and just in time, your mum appears at the door, her brow furrowing as she spots you standing there, rooted to the spot, cheeks aflame.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice laced with suspicion, as she looks past you towards the street.

“Nothing, Mum,” you reply, your voice light and breezy despite the flush still colouring your cheeks. You try to keep the grin tugging at your lips at bay, but it’s no use. You watch Jaeyun’s figure disappear into the distance, his silhouette illuminated briefly by the streetlights, and your heart feels as though it’s been set alight, burning in the most beautiful way - there’s no danger, only passion.

He is everything. Everything you could ever want, everything you never knew you needed. His laughter, his touch, the way his voice wraps around you - it’s all etched into your skin, into the very fabric of your atoms.

With your heart fit to burst, overflowing with the weight of his adoration and your own, you step inside, heading upstairs. Each step feels light and easy, as though you’re gliding, feet barely touching the ground.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, his scent still lingering faintly on your skin, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. You grab it instantly, your pulse quickening when you see his name lighting up the screen.

I’m so happy I get to kiss you like that forever. x

________

For the next three months, you and Jaeyun kiss like your lungs will collapse without one another’s breath. It becomes a routine; you steal moments before either of your mums get home, tucked away behind the stairwell during class breaks, or hidden between the library shelves when study periods drag on too long. Any opportunity, no matter how fleeting or risky, you grab it by the balls.

Even now, you’re leaning against the faded cream wall outside your classroom with the metal lockers nearby doing little to shield you and Jaeyun’s actions. You’re really meant to be inside the class by now, diligently sitting at your seat like the semi-good student you are. Instead, Jaeyun’s hands are in your hair, fingers delicately brushing past the knots he has created. His lips are warm, firm, and insistent against yours.

God, those fucking lips.

A low, breathy groan escapes him, reverberating against your mouth and it sends a shiver from your head to your toes. The sound is a pretty reminder that he’s just as caught up in this as you are. His palm finds the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse in a way that makes your knees feel dangerously weak. You’re vaguely aware of the world outside the bubble you’ve created together, but it feels distant and unimportant right now. The heat pooling in your stomach, the way his teeth catch your bottom lip - something Jaeyun figured out you like very quickly - that’s all that matters.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sim, Miss L/N,” a sharp, exhausted voice cuts through the haze, and you both jolt apart like guilty children caught red-handed. Your teacher, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, looks both annoyed and resigned. You glance at Jaeyun, who dares to grin, his lips still slightly swollen and his hair deliciously mussed.

“Sorry, sir,” Jaeyun says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Why would he be? He takes kissing you far more seriously than any lesson. Jaeyun presses one more hasted kiss to your lips, whispering a silent promise that it won’t be long before his mouth is back on yours, breathing in your lifeline. He shoots you a quick wink, and you have to bite back a laugh. The teacher’s glare sharpens.

By now, everyone in school is sick of the two of you. Teachers sigh audibly whenever you walk into a room together already knowing neither of you will pay attention, and students roll their eyes like it’s a chore. “You guys are so disgusting,” someone groans one day when you’re perched on Jaeyun’s desk, your fingers tracing patterns on his forearm as he squeezes your thigh. “Can you please keep your lovey-dovey shit out of my face?”

Another time, during a particularly heated make-out session in the back of the class, your history teacher’s patience finally snaps. “Mr. Sim, could you kindly relocate yourself to the front of the room? Some of your peers are trying to learn.” Jaeyun barely suppresses a laugh as he grabs his things and saunters to his new seat. When he passes by your desk, he leans down just enough to murmur, “They’re just jealous,” in that teasing tone that makes your heart race.

All you do is exchange heated makeout sessions and quick fondles, but the more it happens, the more you crave him in ways that go beyond the tangle of your tongues. You start to push more and more when you guys hang out; grinding on his lap, marking his neck with hickeys, even palming him through his trousers, silently asking for permission.

It’s not just the kisses that make you want to take it to the next level though. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re literally the only person worth seeing in a crowded room. The way his laughter feels like sunlight on a cold day. The way he seems to know you - really know you - in a way that no one else ever has. He is your best friend, your everything.

Why wouldn’t you want him to have every piece of you?

You can tell he’s apprehensive. Not because he doesn’t want to have sex with you, in fact, you can certainly see how it’s the opposite. The whines and the frustrated groans as you both roll around his bed tell you how badly he wants this. But something else is holding him back.

He’s careful, always so careful with you. It’s not hesitation, it’s patience. The kind that comes from someone who believes there’s a million and one minutes to be shared with you. He knows you’re both still young, and in his eyes, forever stretches way beyond the both of you, allowing you endless opportunities to feel and explore one another in every detailed way possible. So why rush?

That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him, he just doesn’t want to risk pushing you and doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to give more than you’re ready to.

But it’s also undeniable how much he and his body are yearning for you. You see it in the way his eyes cloud over with desperation as you trail kisses along his jaw, hear it in the way he breathes your name like it’s both a plea and a promise. He’s aching to have you, to feel you in every way possible. Yet he’ll wait. For you. As long as it takes.

There is one thing, though, that he can’t wait to do.

Late on a random Wednesday night, your phone pings, tugging you away from the textbook sprawled open on your desk. Jaeyun’s name lights up the screen, and just like your phone, your face brightens. Normally, if he wasn’t spending the night, he’d be fast asleep by now - the boy is practically religious about his eight hours. The text is unusual, but not enough to send alarm bells ringing.

Jaeyun: are you awake?

Y/N: yeah, just studying. are you okay, baby?

Jaeyun: can i come see you?

Your chest tightens slightly as you exhale, that quiet calm you’d settled into now dissolving at his unexpected question.

Y/N: sure! i’ll sneak you in. everything okay? :((

The three dots of a reply don’t appear and your last message hangs there, unanswered, leaving your brain to start spinning its anxious gears. Why does he need to see you now? What’s so urgent it can’t wait for school tomorrow - or, at the very least, a video call?

Minutes feel like hours as you wait. The silence from him is deafening, and it’s so unlike Jaeyun that it sets your stomach twisting. He’s not the type to leave you hanging, especially knowing your overactive imagination rivals his own. He’s always careful with you, considerate of your worries. Yet here you are, left to wrestle with every worst-case scenario your brain can conjure.

Foremost among them is the thought of a breakup.

You and Jaeyun have been amazing - like something out of a clichéd teen romance; but even in a love story, things aren’t always perfect, and you know that. Still, nothing has happened recently that could explain this sudden, out-of-character visit. Nothing, at least, that you can think of.

The vibration of your phone jolts you, and you find yourself holding your breath as you glance down.

Jaeyun: out front x

The kiss. That’s a good sign…isn’t it? If someone was breaking up with you, you wouldn’t put a small ‘x’ at the end of a text.

Your heart pounds as you tiptoe downstairs, just as you had the very first date with Jaeyun. Except this time, there’s no bubbling excitement, only a mix of nerves and curiosity as you silently glide down each step, ensuring you don’t wake up your parents. You unlock the door with careful hands and pull it open, and there he is.

Clad in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he stands there looking impossibly soft against the dark. His feet are adorned in the Timberland boots you - well, technically your parents - bought him last Christmas. His denim jacket, likely shrugged off for the walk, rests over his arm. His hair is slightly dishevelled, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him look both boyish and heartbreakingly beautiful.

The sight of him standing there, illuminated faintly by the porch light, makes your breath hitch. Whatever reason he’s here, whatever words are about to leave his mouth, you know they’re important.

“Hi,” he murmurs, his voice soft and subdued with emotions you can’t place.

You don’t reply, instead stepping aside to let him in. His movements are automatic, muscle memory from all the times he’s been here before. Although tonight feels different. Without so much as a glance back, he makes his way to the stairs.

You follow him, and the ascent feels like an eternity. Each step echoes faintly in the stillness of the house, the sound amplified by your racing thoughts and the need to stay quiet. What is with him? Your stomach churns with the kind of anticipation that resembles dread. Jaeyun’s shoulders are tense, you can see that as you’re faced with his back, his hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants. Normally, you’d be looking at the veins on his arms and begin to mentally remember each curve, however, this isn’t a moment you want to remember.

Or so you think.

When you reach your room, he steps in first, the familiar space suddenly feeling foreign to him as his mind bounces along his cranium with doubt and excitement. You shut the door quietly, twisting the lock with a soft click, and turn to see him already sitting on the edge of your bed, hands scrunching into the fabric of your teddy blanket.

“Jaeyun, what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice low and laced with worry. It’s so quiet the world almost doesn’t hear it - but Jaeyun always hears you.

He stops fidgeting, his hands resting limply on his lap as his gaze drops to his fingers. “I just…” He trails off, his voice cracking slightly. He begins tracing the lines of his palm like he’s counting his fingers, his movements slow and soothing. “I needed to see you.”

He doesn’t look up.

The weight in the room settles a little heavier now, pressing into your chest as you swallow hard. “Talk to me,” you urge softly, watching as his posture stiffens due to your words. His entire body goes rigid, and the vulnerability in his silence sends a pang straight to your heart.

Jaeyun has always been open with you, an easy book to read. His laughter, his thoughts, his heart - all of it handed to you without hesitation. Since the first day you met, he gave you the key to his emotional safe. So to see him like this, closed off and guarded, it feels so wrong.

You quickly close the distance between you, sitting beside him, close enough that your knees touch. “You can tell me anything, Jaeyun. I promise whatever it is we ca-”

“I love you.”

The words cut yours short like a sharp blade. Quick, almost too quick, and for a moment, they don’t fully register any of the syllables. You blink, stunned, as your own words fall silent. Probably not the best reaction to have but it’s all so sudden that your brain’s crossing some wires as it fights to say something.

Jaeyun’s eyes remain locked on his hands, but there’s panic in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers grip his sweatpants as if he’s bracing for impact. Yet, you remain silent.

Say something, you think. Anything.

“You…do?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, fragile and uncertain. You did ask your brain to say anything, but perhaps a rebutting question about the genuineness of his confession isn’t the way to go.

He nods slightly, his head tilting to the side but still avoiding your gaze. “Of course I do,” he says matter-of-factly, even if it comes out between shallow breaths. “I’ve loved you since I met you, I think.”

His honest words hover stagnant between you, and they make your chest ache in ways you can’t quite define as black and white. It’s not an ache that feels like fear, though there is something scary about the three words - it’s more like the kind of ache that comes with holding so much joy in your hands and wondering if it’s really yours, if you can really grasp it and never let go. A holy shit, this is real, isn’t it? kind of ache.

It’s the kind of feeling that makes your throat dry and your lungs tighten, yet your heart swells all the same. It’s painfully beautiful.

You knew deep down. Of course, you did. How could you not? You’d seen it in the way he looked at you, felt it in the way he breathed out your name as though he would be happy with it being the last thing he ever said. Yet, hearing him say it out loud was entirely different. His confession, spontaneous and real, shakes you alive.

And you feel it too. You love the boy who is nervously biting his lip as he waits patiently and apprehensive beside you. You love him so much that the world genuinely feels as though it can do you no wrong; the sun and moon align to create the perfect love casted eclipse.

So why can’t you just say them back? You’ve felt them for so long. You’ve dreamed of saying them - you’ve even practised in the mirror for when the perfect time arose. And yet here you are, struggling.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, cracking slightly with the weight of the moment. “Please…say something.”

There’s a plea in his tone that makes your stomach churn. His eyes, usually so steady and confident, are now dimmed with hesitation. He’s bracing himself for you to shatter him with rejection and that gets your tongue moving.

“I-” Your voice falters. The single syllable hangs in the air, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. You’re killing him with the quiet, his heart thumping as it wishes to be anywhere but in this room with you, scared you’re about to take a hammer to it.

When Jaeyun decided to tell you tonight, it was impulsive - he knows - but his tongue and heart couldn’t help themselves. He loves you. He loves you like Jack loves Rose, like Gomez loves Morticia, and like his dad loves his mum. He’s so certain that although his feelings are scary, the most terrifying part is you not feeling the same.

You’re searching for the right words, but none seem worthy of what you’re feeling. This isn’t just love - it’s something bigger, something that spills out beyond the English language. But you know you need to say it, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Because you need him to know, even a fraction.

“I-”, you begin again, finfing your voice, “I love you too, Jaeyun. The whisper comes out at last, and the words hit his chest like a fragile secret you’ve been holding onto for far too long.

You just hope you said it with enough sincerity that he doesn’t doubt you. You would hate if he thought you were simply returning the words back to him out of obligation.

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, his dark eyes wide and searching, and when you see the way they light up, your heart nearly stops. He’s like a puppy seeing a bone, not quite believing it’s his but anticipating the treat.

Slowly, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he cups your cheek. His palm is warm against your skin, grounding you in this moment that feels almost too perfect to be real.

“Really?” he breathes, fighting the smile until he hears you say it again. Half refusing to believe it.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a smile drawing itself across your cheeks. “Really, really.”

The tension in the air shifts. It doesn’t dissolve, but it changes - transforming into something softer, something heartstopping. You barely have time to register the shift before he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, still testing the waters, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the tenderness gives way to desperate love. You can feel it in the way his body magnitises to yours, each cell of his body begging to be joined with yours. His hand moves to your waist, his fingers splaying against the fabric of your t-shirt like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Your hands, almost on instinct, clutch at the fabric of his white tshirt, pulling him closer. It’s not enough - fuck, he’s so close and yet it feels like there’s still too much space between you. Your chest presses against his, your breaths mingling as the kiss deepens.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips, loving the feeling of the words falling so freely from your tongue.

Something in him seems to snap just as you finish the sentence because before you know it, he’s guiding you back onto the bed, his hand gently pressing your shoulder until you’re lying beneath him. The mattress dips under your weight as he hovers over you, his lips never straying far from yours.

The kiss shifts the atmosphere from relief to greed, growing hungrier, needier, and you feel his fingers tightening on your skin. The hand that had been on your shoulder trails upwards, his thumb brushing just below your jaw, tracing the delicate line of your neck. His hand is so big it encapsulates almost all of your neck, your pulse thruming against his palm.

It’s overwhelming in the best way. Your skin feels hypersensitive to every little movement. His lips leave yours eventually, trailing a path down to your jaw, then to the curve of your neck. You tilt your head almost instinctively, giving him better access as his mouth brushes your skin, and you feel the faintest hint of teeth grazing to tease you.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re trying to say - maybe you just want to remind yourself that he’s there, that he is the one making you feel like you’re flying.

He pulls back just enough to look at you as your breathy moan calls out to him. His gaze is wild, unfocused, like he’s caught in some trance he can’t manage to break. But when his eyes meet yours, they soften instantly and you see the Jaeyun you know, his worry of pushing you too far settling to the front of his mind.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as he starts to draw back. “I got carried away-”

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt, grabbing the front of his shirt to stop him. His eyes widen slightly at your words, his lips parting as though he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Instead, you cup his face, your fingers brushing over the bumps of his faint acne scars. “I want this,” you say, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “I need you. I have for fucking ever.”

The genuineness of your words seems to reach him, though, it doesn’t stop that nagging in his subconscious. He doesn’t want you to regret your first time, to make this decision because you’re riled up by the confessions. But as he looks into your eyes, he sees no hesitation, only pure love and want.

It only takes a moment before his lips are back on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle if not urgent, his lips soft and warm against yours. The sound of soft whines against your lips sends pleasurable vibrations down your spine. You need him, more than you did at the outdoor movie, more than literally any other time you kissed him.

This feels different.

This feels like you’re completely in love.

His mouth trails down your body, not hurried but rather purposeful. He doesn’t remove your clothes just yet - instead he lifts your t-shirt to your breasts and begins kissing a gentle line from your valley to the soft curve of your belly. Once he’s reached his destination, his lips linger just where your shorts meet your hips, spending extra time just being there.

The heat between you both is palpable. You instinctively shift your hips, a silent invitation for him to remove your shorts, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He teases you, kissing along the line of your lower abdomen, his hands caressing your calves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing this moment out, making you ache for him even more.

"Jaeyun, please don’t," you whisper, your voice a breathless plea as your eyes lock with his. His are half-lidded, already drenched in lust as his lashes graze his cheek, a twinkle of joy sparkling in the dim light of your room.

"Don’t what, baby?" he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss just under your belly button, his lips continuing their slow descent. His fingers brush against you, skimming lightly over your covered slit. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily at the foreign feeling, eliciting a teasing smile to play on your boyfriend’s lips. “Don’t tease?”

His finger gains more stength as he applies some further pressure to your cunt, you clit screaming out for his touch. Surprisingly, he finds it even with the barrier of your shorts. You’re not experienced in this department but you’ve read enough magazine columns to know that men have a hard time with locating your precious gem.

Jaeyun must really just be perfect. Or lucky.

The soft moan that escapes you is a sound of pure need that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Jaeyun’s grin widens with pride as he continues to rub your sensitive spot over your shorts, each movement coaxing another response from you.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

You haven’t seen this side of him before - the way he’s so in tune with your body, so confident in his touch. This is new to you, to both of you. The Jaeyun you know has always been playful, carefree, but tonight, he’s different - more in control.

What you don’t know, though, is that just a day before, he sought advice from his friend Heeseung about, well, everything.

"Have any of you ever...you know...eaten a girl out before?" Jaeyun asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. His friends snicker, but Heeseung, the more mature one, is the only one to respond with any real insight. He’s the only one with enough experience to even answer his question anyway.

"It’s all about listening and responding," Heeseung says, a knowing look in his eyes. "You’ve got to read the room. If you do something and she moans, you do it again. If she doesn’t like it, you try something else. It’s all about learning each other’s bodies."

Jaeyun looks at him with wide eyes, as though Heeseung has unlocked the mysteries of the female body. Heeseung’s advice becomes his guide, and now, it seems like he’s ready to put it into practice.

“How do i do it right though? You always see those tiktoks about girls blasting guys for not being able to get them off,” Jaeyun pauses, “what if I can’t?”

“You will, just listen to her, Jake. Let her control the situation without her even knowing she is.”

And that’s exactly what Jaeyun is doing now. He’s paying attention - listening to the sounds you make, reading every move of your body as if it’s the bible, every unspoken need his hymn sheet.

He hears the soft whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers away, his own breath catching as he watches your thighs tremble. Without hesitation, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts and pulls them down, his movements desperate but deliberate.

His eyes darken as they settle on you, bare and exposed beneath him. A quiet moan leaves his lips, his restraint hanging by a thread. He’s see pussy before, through the screen of his phone as he jerkily pumps his cock in the midst of the night, but yours…fuck, yours is artwork. It’s like finally seeing the Mona Lisa in person.

Right now, the only thing stopping him from burying his face between your thighs and devouring you entirely is the need to hear you say it. To know, without question, that you want this as much as he does.

"Can I?" His voice is low, clogged with need. The words alone send your brain into orbit and your hips lift instinctively, offering yourself to him, but that isn’t enough. He needs more.

"Use your words, baby."

"Please, Jaeyun," you whisper, breathless. "I need you so bad."

That’s all it takes.

His hands grip your thighs as he leans in, dragging his tongue between your folds in one single stripe. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he tastes you for the first time. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting the tang to be so intoxicating, your slick making his buds dance with joy. He has a sneaking suspicion that he’ll get addicted to this. To you.

His lips envelop around your clit in a way that makes your entire body contract. He’s eager, but not rushed - at least he’s trying his hardest not to be. His tongue moves with purpose, seeking out every spot that makes your breath hitch.

"Yunnie…oh my god," you gasp, fingers threading through his messy brown strands, pulling roughly. "Baby, don’t stop."

He doesn’t. If anything, your plea spurs him on. Heeseung’s advice plays in the back of his mind, and he follows it without hesitation. He listens, he adjusts, he learns. And when he hears the way you whimper when he flattens his tongue against you, when he feels the way your thighs squeeze around his head and muffle the world around him, he does it again.

Jaeyun groans against you, completely undone by the way you react to him. He’s so glad Heeseung sent him those videos, so fucking grateful he paid attention because now, he knows exactly what to do to elicit pleasure from you. And the fact that he’s the one making you fall apart like this? It only makes him hungrier.

His lips brush over your clit, his voice a husky whisper. "Baby…can I?" He traces a single finger along your entrance, waiting for the green light.

"Do it," you manage to huff out, the need in your voice making his cock twitch.

He doesn’t make you wait either. He slides his middle finger into you, groaning at how tight you are, the feeling of your walls also not what he was expecting. It’s warm - obviously - but those ridges of your walls, the way the flutter even around a simple finger, it’s making him feel feral. "Fuck, baby…you’re gonna be so tight around me."

The stretch is new, different. You’ve never used anything more than your fingers before but his feel nothing like yours. His are longer, thicker, reaching places you didn’t even know existed inside of you. He curls his digit just enough to press against a soft spot inside and you have to cover your mouth with how loud you mewl out. He grins against your skin, pressing his lips back to your sensitive bud as he watches you wriggle under his orchestrated touch. He circles his tongue in slow, lazy strokes, his pace unhurried but devastating for you.

"More," you breathe, and the word alone puts him on the verge of losing it.

He doesn’t hesitate, slipping another finger inside you, and the when you’ve become accustomed to that, he adds another. He uses his nose to nudge your clit with every movement, his breath hot, his tongue relentless. He can feel it - your body tightening, signalling to him that you’re ready. And you don’t even realise it yet.

But he does. He knows you better than you know yourself.

"Are you gonna cum, Princess?"

Princess.

The nickname catches you off guard, but god, the way it rolls off his tongue has you spiralling into orbit.

"So close," you admit, anchoring yourself to earth long enough to know and understand what’s happening. Your voice is shaky as pleasure rumbles in waves, beginning to drown you.

Jaeyun drinks you in like you’re the last drop of water in the desert. His grip tightens, his movements never faltering. And when you finally come undone, his fingers don’t stop, his tongue still lapping up everything you give him.

Oh, he is definitely going to get addicted to this.

You’re panting, your hands still tangled in his hair yanking at his roots as your mind fogs with euphoria. Jaeyun begins to slow down his ministrations, not taking away a second of this from either of you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, savouring the last drops as they leak from your cunt.

He looks up at you, his lips glistening in your essence, his eyes soft yet undeniably starving. "You okay?" he asks, almost innocently despite the sin over his features.

"I’m fantastic," you huff out in a laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

Jaeyun chuckles, pressing one last kiss teasingly to your clit, making you shudder with that ache.

"Jaeyun…" you whisper his name so softly that it gets swept by the air circulating you both, a feather floating as love carries it.

He takes off his tshirt before slowly climbs up your body, his bare chest brushing against your skin, his face hovering inches from yours. "What is it, love?"

And that’s when it hits you. So suddenly. So earth shatteringly obvious. The overwhelming, undeniable realisation that there will never be anyone else. Not after this. Not after him.

You reach for him, pulling him into a kiss that’s deeper and more desperate than any that came before it. Your fingers thread through his hair, your body arching against his as you whisper against his lips, "Jaeyun, I love you so much. I need you."

He stills, his forehead pressing against yours as he takes in your words, his breath uneven as his mind jumps in anxiety and his cock leaps for joy.

"Are you sure, baby?" His voice is thick with restraint, his eyes pleading, hopeful. He wants this, but this is a big step for both of you. Giving you head is one thing but losing your virginity - he needs to make sure this is everything you want.

And you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

"I’m so sure, Jaeyun," you whisper, your hand slipping between your bodies. Your fingers trail over his slightly -toned stomach before slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The direct contact of your hand around his dick makes his breath stutter, then completely stop as you begin to stroke him gently, feeling his weight and warmth. "Let me have every bit of you."

A strangled groan leaves his lips as his head falls back. His grip on your waist tightens, his body trembling under your touch.

"Baby, stop before I-" He catches your wrist, his voice strained. "I’ll cum in my pants if you keep doing that…at least let me be inside of you," His eyes are desperate, his body yearning out for you.

"Jaeyun-" you start to protest, but before you can finish, he pulls away just long enough to strip himself of his sweatpants and boxers.

Your breath catches at the sight of him.

His cock stands thick and hard against his stomach, the head flushed a pretty shade of pink. A prominent vein runs along the underside, disappearing beneath the ridge of his tip. He’s big - bigger than you expected - but all you can think about is how badly you want him. No - need him.

Jaeyun swallows hard at the sight of you on your knees, your legs tucked beneath you, your gaze locked onto his cock. The strap of your pyjama top has slipped down your shoulder, exposing the soft curve of your breast. The sight is enough to make his stomach tighten.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He shakes his head clear of the lust-drunken state he’s in before leaning down to kiss you, capturing your lips with his once again. You’re so melded together that it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins, your mouths moving together in a perfect, delicious rhythm.

He lowers you back onto the bed, his body settling over yours, his hand slipping between your legs once more. The moment his fingers brush over your core, your breath catches and your body trembles from oversensitivity.

"Are you ready for me, baby?" His voice is soft, careful. "Or should I open you up some more?"

Jaeyun’s question was meant to be innocent - he really did want you to be ready for him - but in your heightened state, it was the filthiest thing he had said so far. You were too lost in sensation to string together a proper sentence, yet you knew he needed to be careful. The last thing you need is to walk out as a cast member of Teen Mom.

“Condom,” you manage to point towards the nightstand. “Second drawer.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches over. “Did you expect this to happen or something?” His tone is amused but the heaving of his chest shows how turned on he is, even just by the prospect of a condom.

You let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the intensity of it all. “Got them at the doctor’s office when I was there. You know I can’t pass up a freebie.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud, genuine laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before he presses a soft kiss to your lips, then, just as he opens the drawer, his hand stills.

“Y/N?” His voice shifts, a teasing lilt creeping in.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what caught his attention, only for heat to rush to your face as he holds up a small bullet vibrator between his fingers, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Is this my competition?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile downright wicked. He knew you would have masturbated, but for some reason he just expected you to use your pretty fingers. At least, that’s the thought that got him through his own wank sessions.

You groan, shoving at his chest, embarrassed that you didn’t do a better job of hiding it. Jaeyun tosses the toy aside and leans in again, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll make sure you never need that again,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something impossibly low. “Only I get to make you cum from now on, yeah? You need to get off, you call me.”

A whimper escapes you, and the sound alone has his smirk deepening. You don’t doubt his words for a second. His expression softens as he tilts your chin up. “You ready for this?” His voice is a whisper now, careful to convey his sincerity. “We can stop whenever you want, okay?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “I’m ready.” It’s scary, all the warnings about how it hurts suddenly suffocate your mind. Why now?

Jaeyun takes himself in hand, dragging the head of his cock between your folds, spreading your wetness before tapping it lightly against your clit. A sharp gasp leaves you, your body arching instinctively, suddenly forgetting about your worries. Oh, how simple your horny body is.

“Fuck, Jaeyun. Need you.”

That familiar wetness from earlier coats your thighs, the sheets, and him all at once. He keeps teasing you, watching the way you writhe beneath him, how you gasp and whimper at every slow drag of his length as his head snags on your hood and plays with your bud. Heeseung had told him it was important to make sure you were relaxed, that it would hurt less if you were wet enough. He’d even sent videos explaining it and for the first time, Jaeyun took interest in Biology.

Exhaling to steady himself, he lines up at your entrance. “Breathe out for me, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand stroking up your thigh. “And if it hurts too much, tell me and we will slow down.”

You nod, eyes locked onto his. “Okay.”

Slowly, he pushes his tip in. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and he stills immediately, his thumb rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. “Princess, you okay?” His voice is tight, his concern cutting through his haze of arousal.

You nod, but he doesn’t move. Not until you say something. “I’m okay, Jaeyun.” You exhale, fingers trailing down his arms to reassure him. “Just give me a minute?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, nodding. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. But as he does, his cock slides a little deeper, and you wince as he moans out.

“Shit, love, I’m sorry,” he breathes, guilt flashing in his eyes.

Love.

He’s pulling out every pet name he can think of, and god, you love it. You pull him back into a kiss to let him know it’s okay, that the discomfort is bearable, that you trust him. The stretch even from his cock is a lot, but it is to die for. It sends you excitement racing ahead of the pain.

“This is really boosting my ego, y’know,” Jaeyun jokes, looking lovingly into your eyes as he lowers himself further, making his position more comfortable to hold.

The laugh you let out is accompanied by an eye roll. Your boyfriend, so sweet and caring, knows exactly what you need to relax and distract you from the burn. Even as you laugh, you loosen up a little for him, allowing his cock some room to breathe.

“I’m glad, you should be very proud.”

“Bigger than that vibrator, huh?”

“Wait until you see my dildo collection.”

You and Jaeyun both giggle, placing lazy kisses over each other’s faces as you wash each other in love and adoration, each word, each look, each touch of your skin is securing the bond you share, nothing unable to tear it apart.

You take a deep breath after a moment and smile softly at your lover. “I’m good. You can go.”

Jaeyun nods, laying a final peck to your nose before moving slowly, deliberately, pushing in inch by inch. It’s new for both of you, but there’s no awkwardness, no tension - just quiet understanding, a deep intimacy that makes your chest feel impossibly full.

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottoms out. His eyes squeeze shut, his whole body trembling. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

You cradle his face, watching the way he’s completely unravelled, how he’s totally lost in the feeling of you. A surge of confidence swells in your chest. You’re doing this to him. You’re making him feel like this.

Your hips lift, finally doing some work as you silently urge him to move, and his eyes snap open, wild and dark with need.

“Princess… fuck,” he gasps when you clench around him on purpose.

You smirk, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Is it good, baby?”

The second the words leave your mouth, Jaeyun lets out a strangled moan. His body tenses, his rhythm faltering, and before you can process it, he’s cumming. His jaw slackens, his breath stuttering as pleasure overtakes him.

If you could retain one moment for the rest of his life, it would be this - Jaeyun, undone, lost in euphoria, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, sweat beading at his temple. He’s beautiful like this, more breathtaking than you’ve ever seen him.

His arms shake as he tries to hold himself up. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean to…that was too fast.” He could curse himself over and over again because why the fuck did he bust his load so quickly? His cock is his biggest enemy right now, embarrassing him by getting too excited too fast.

You laugh softly, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “Jaeyun, it’s okay. It was perfect.” And it was. You don’t expect your first time to last all night; just experiencing this with your boyfriend is enough for you.

But it’s not enough for the boy above you. His lips press into a plump pout, the one he always adorns when he’s dissatisfied. “No, I should have made you finish.” His eyes burn with determination, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Bab-”

One quick thrust knocks the words right out of your mouth.

The pleasure spreads through you in an instant, making your whole body jolt. “Jaeyun, you don’t have to-oh, god.”

He doesn’t slow, if anything, he picks up the pace, his fingers finding your clit.

“Princess, I promised I’d make you feel good,” he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna make you cum again, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Jaeyun has always been determined - when he sets his mind on something, he sees it through. And if his goal is to have you falling apart beneath him, he’s going to make sure he achieves it.

You try to keep quiet, mindful of your parents down the hall, but it’s impossible. The pleasure is too much, your moans spilling out uncontrollably. His thick cock kisses each bump of your walls so beautifully, any pain is washed away with pure ecstasy.

Jaeyun smirks, rolling his hips in a way that makes you cry out. “Baby, you gotta be quiet.” His voice is teasing, but when he thrusts harder, pulling another loud moan from you, his smirk widens. “I know I’m good, but try.”

You can’t even muster a glare - too lost in the way he feels, in the way he’s taking you apart. You’ve suddenly found a new love for his stubborn need to achieve the best.

“Jaeyun…I’m so-”

“I know, princess. I can feel you.” His lips trail down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on all your sweet spots. “Need you to cum all over me, yeah?” His voice is wrecked, his desperation bleeding through. “You love my cock, don’t you?”

“I love you.” The words slip out, tangled in a breathy moan but it doesn’t deminish the sincerity.

Jaeyun stills, his eyes softening, his smirk melting into something more tender. “God, I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. I’ll love you forever if you let me.”

His movements grow more focused, more purposeful. He ignores his own overstimulation, his only goal to push you over the edge. “Baby, cum for me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, voice thick with adoration. “Just for me, give me everything.”

The intensity is overwhelming - the pleasure, the emotion, the weight of his love wrapping around you like a blanket. He is your soulmate, you know that now.

Your orgasm crashes into you, shattering you completely. You barely register the sounds you’re making, Jaeyun swallowing them with a desperate kiss. And when it’s over, when your body trembles beneath his, Jaeyun holds you close, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

His voice is a whisper, reverent. “Mine.”

First times in novels and films always seemed impossibly perfect - moments so breathtaking, they felt unattainable. But now, lying here in Jaeyun’s arms, those depictions feel dishonest, pale imitations of the reality you’ve just experienced. Nothing could ever compare to this. Nothing could ever compare to him.

You wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. And you wouldn’t trade Jaeyun for anything. He’s beautifully perfect.

As the lingering waves of pleasure subside, you open your eyes to find him already watching you, his fingers threading gently through your damp, tangled hair. He smiles, warm and adoring, and strokes his thumb across your temple.

“Princess, you did so well,” he murmurs, voice thick with tenderness. “I’m so proud of you. I wasn’t too much, was I?” His brow creases slightly, genuine concern written all over his face.

A sleepy giggle escapes you as you shake your head. “Never…I’m so in love with you, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” You pull him into a kiss, soft and unhurried, a contrast to the mess still lingering between you.

Jaeyun groans against your lips, then laughs as he pulls back. “Babe, I swear to god, I’ll cum again if you keep saying stuff like that.”

You grin, only half-aware of the way your body protests as he slowly pulls out. The emptiness he leaves behind feels unnatural, like something has been stolen from you. You don’t know how you ever lived before him - not like this, not without being completely wrapped up in him.

And now? You’re certain you can’t live without him.

Jaeyun hisses as he carefully removes the condom, then crawls off the bed, padding over to the bin. You take the opportunity to admire him, his bare skin still flushed, his muscles shifting as he moves, his perky ass so soft and pretty. That’s all mine, you think hazily, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.

He turns just in time to catch you staring. Tilting his head, he narrows his eyes playfully. “Y/N? What are you smiling at?”

You blink up at him, still dazed. “You,” you admit, voice soft. “Just…smiling at the fact you’re mine.”

A sudden shyness creeps in, and you cover your face with your arm, giggling. Never have you been so happy, your heart content and just filled with pure innocent joy at the idea of finding love like this.

Already striding back to the bed and hovering over you, Jaeyun gently tugs your arm away so he can see your face. “Always,” he whispers, brushing his lips over your forehead. “I’m always gonna be yours. Until my last breath on this earth, I’m yours.”

The two of you stay tangled together, bodies pressed close, as the first hints of dawn begin to filter through the curtains. You don’t move. You don’t need to.

The world can wait. Right now, there is only Jaeyun.

___________

To say everything is going well with you and Jaeyun over the past year and a half would be an understatement. You've never felt so deeply cherished or loved in your life - not by your parents, not by your friends, not by anyone. Only Jaeyun makes the world feel more vivid and bright, as if the saturation has been turned up just for you; the sun has a habit of making life look brighter like that.

Your eighteenth birthday party is tonight, something you’ve spent months planning. It falls perfectly after exams, giving you the excuse to gather everyone and let loose. Now, do you have an endless sea of friends? Not quite. But you have your group - the ones who stay through every season. The ones who have been there for your highest highs and lowest lows. But that doesn’t stop you from inviting half the year group anyway, just to make the party feel more alive. The more, the merrier.

The house hums with excitement as preparations fall into place. Fairy lights drape across the walls, bottles of drinks line the kitchen counter - supplied by your parents and Yeji’s - and music thrums in the background, setting the vibe for the night ahead. The air carries the scent of vanilla candles mixed with anticipation.

Ryujin and Yeji, your two closest friends, are with you as you get ready, their voices a steady hum in the background as you check your reflection for the nth time. The dress you chose is deliberate: a short, black, sleek dress with red lace edging the hem. It’s bolder than your usual style, more daring. A declaration of some sorts.

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Ryujin says, appraising you with a knowing grin. “Jake isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.”

You smile, her excited words confirming exactly what you’d hoped. She doesn’t know you bought the dress for that reason alone - for Jaeyun to see a new side to you. There is something about turning eighteen that - at least for you - feels so…freeing, different. Like the girl standing in front of you is more than just plain old Y/N who does semi-badly in school and collects cute keyrings. Tonight, you are stepping into a new era and although you don’t quite know what that entails just yet, it thrums beneath your skin like electricity.

Yeji claps her hands, eyes alight with excitement. “Now, it’s time to fucking party.” She pours the three of you a shot, the bright lime liquid gleaming under the bedroom lights.

You take the glass, fingers tightening around it. This moment feels like like standing on the edge of a rooftop, wind in your hair, heart racing. You glance at your friends, their faces mirroring your own exhilaration and relief of letting their hair down. So, with a grin, you clink your glass against theirs and knock back the shot, feeling the warmth spread through you.

The night is only just beginning.

Hours later, the party is in full swing. The house is packed, your parents are nowhere in sight, the music pulses through the walls, and people seem to be having the best time, each making a point to wish you a happy birthday along with appreciative thanks for hosting. You should be enjoying yourself, it is your party after all. But there is one integral piece missing. Jaeyun is still missing. You glance at your phone for the hundredth time, staring at the text he sent earlier.

Jaeyun: be there soon, baby. can’t wait to see my girl! x

That was two hours ago.

“Hey.” A voice from behind pulls you from your thoughts, dragging your eyes from the bright screen as you turn. The sight of him steals your breath for a moment. Sleeked-back hair, perfectly carved features - he’s the kind of beautiful that makes entire rooms pause.

“I’m Sunghoon.” His voice is smooth, almost amused. “You’re the birthday girl, right?”

“H-Hey. Yeah, that’s me,” you manage, feeling unexpectedly flustered. “Thanks for coming.”

The moonlight slips through the windows, catching on the sharp lines of his face, the constellation of moles dotting his skin, the gleam of his canines as he smiles. He’s striking, hypnotic in a way that unsettles you. This is Park fucking Sunghoon.

You have never spoken to him before, nor did you think he even knew that you existed until this moment. He is never one to turn down a party but he keeps to his friend group. He’s popular, bright, has girls fawning at his feet 24/7, and yet he’s speaking to you.

Maybe this dress had more powers than you thought.

“You’re Jake’s girlfriend?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dart the crowded room. “Where is he?”

Where is he? You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. He’s always with you, always on time. Always here. And suddenly, you miss him even more than ever.

You force a light chuckle, shrugging. “No idea, actually.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickers over you, assessing the situation. When his hand brushes your arm, your body tenses involuntarily. You don’t move away, but something inside you twists, an unspoken warning sounding in your mind. Jaeyun, where are you?

Sunghoon notices your hesitance and merely nods, understanding your sudden apprehension. He’s not one to force it.

“If I were Jake,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’d never let my pretty girlfriend stand alone at her own party.”

And then, as if to make a point, he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple.

He’s right, isn’t he? Jaeyun should be here. Shouldn’t you be angry and not wallowing, waiting for him? Instead, you’re swallowing another shot of Cherry Sourz - Jaeyun’s favourite, a habit ingrained in you. Yeji’s words echo in your mind, the ones she exclaimed enthusiastically a few weeks ago as you were planning the night. If you’re going to celebrate your 18th birthday, you might as well have no regrets.

So you do just that. Four hours in and your sense of time is gone, your head pleasantly light and airy, your body warmed by the alcohol and humidity of the packed house. Nine shots in, and you’ve forgotten what you were even upset about.

And then the air shifts.

Jaeyun walks through the door with Heeseung and Jay, his usual easy grin in place. He greets people in the hallway, his energy relaxed - until his eyes find you.

The smile fades. His body stills. His jaw tightens.

You, in that dress, your hair tousled from dancing, the flush on your cheeks. But most of all, the hands on your waist.

Sunghoon.

Jaeyun clenches his fists, inhaling sharply through his nose as jealousy laces through his veins like wildfire. He isn’t naive. He knows Sunghoon is dangerous - not in the way that means trouble, but in the way that makes him a threat. He’s handsome, perhaps the best-looking guy in school, and more infuriatingly, he’s interested in you.

When he was getting changed for practice a couple of days ago, he overheard Sunghoon and his friend Sunoo talking about you. About his girl. Sunghoon was talking about you, describing how you’re really catching his attention lately, and he had zero quips about your relationship status as he said ‘I don’t think Jake is competition’. That riled up Jaeyun more because how dare Sunghoon see you as something of a prize that he could win.

Jaeyun moves before he can think. One moment, Sunghoon’s hands are on you, and the next, Jaeyun is there, pulling you flush against him as he slips his arms around your waist. He buries his face in your shoulder, the scent of your perfume dulling the fury roiling inside him. You always had a way of making him calm, even if you didn’t say a word.

“Baby,” he breathes, his voice soft but laced with possession. Sunghoon steps back, but the smirk lingers in his gaze, knowing Jaeyun feels even a hint of threat. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You should be furious. You are furious. But Jaeyun’s touch is grounding, familiar, something you’ve always craved. Still, the soft part of you that folds for your boyfriend any chance it can is being dropkicked out of your senses, alcohol now fueling you into anger.

And for the first time, Jaeyun might not be able to charm his way out of this one.

You brush his hands off, ignoring him as you continue your conversation with Sunghoon. Jaeyun is hurt. He understands why you’re acting this way - he let you down. Football practice ran far longer than he intended and there was literally no way his coach was letting him leave early, but that reasoning doesn’t make it any easier to watch you give your attention to someone else. To Sunghoon, of all people.

“Princess,” he whispers, the nickname curling off his tongue like a plea, begging you not to be too harsh on him.

You can’t ignore him anymore, your bones melting at his tone, yet, the alcohol has you rolling your eyes, a dry, exasperated sigh jolting out your lips.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I feel like such a dickhea-”

“Good,” you snap before he can finish. Your voice is sharp, not loud, but it slices straight through him. “I hope you feel worse than that.” You turn to face him now, arms crossed tight, barely able to keep still with the anger running hot through your veins. “I waited for four hours, Jaeyun. Four. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? Standing around like an idiot, making up excuses for you when people asked where you were? All so you could do what? Kick a fucking ball around?”

Jaeyun’s breath catches in his throat. You’re really fucking mad.

“And for all I know, it wasn’t even that,” you continue, your voice trembling with something heavier than just anger. “Maybe you were with someone else. Maybe football was just an excuse.”

That makes him still, his spirit leaving his body completely. Cheat. That’s what you’re implying. That word, even unsaid, shatters something in him.

His stomach knots painfully, bile rising in his throat at the mere suggestion. It feels like a slap, like a betrayal, even though he’s the one being accused. How could you think that? How could you even consider it? Had he not been obvious enough? Had he not loved you loudly enough? The thought alone makes him sick.

“Baby,” he exhales, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep his voice even despite the panic pressing against his ribs. “No. I swear, I was at practice. The coach wouldn’t let me leave-”

“Whatever, Jake.”

It’s not the words that cut him open. It’s the name. Jake.

Everyone calls him that. His friends, his teammates, teachers, even strangers. But you? Never. Not since the day he told you he liked being called Jaeyun better, especially from your lips. It was something small, something intimate, something that belonged only to you. But now, you’re just like everyone else.

“Go enjoy yourself,” you say coolly, turning back to Sunghoon. “I’m in the middle of a conversation. Can’t you see?”

Jaeyun follows your gaze, his jaw clenching when he sees the satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of Sunghoon’s lips. The guy looks pleased with himself, like he’s already won the game he’s been planning all along.

Jaeyun’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he walks away, defeated and charged with anger he doesn’t think he has ever felt flow through his bloodstream.

___

An hour or so later, he watches as Sunghoon shifts closer to you, his fingertips barely grazing your arm, his voice dipping lower as he says something that makes you laugh, tilting your head back just enough for it to sting. That laugh belongs to Jaeyun. He knows every version of it - the soft, sleepy one in the mornings, the unrestrained one when you find something so hilarious, the breathless, lovesick one you give only to him.

Except, tonight, you’re seemingly giving it to someone else.

He should walk out. He should let you cool off, let himself cool off. But when Sunghoon leans down, his lips dangerously close to yours, something inside Jaeyun snaps.

Without thinking, he strides forward, his arm sliding around your waist, tugging you against his chest before Sunghoon can move any closer. His lips find the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. It’s an act of possession, yes - but also a silent apology, a plea for you to stop this, to stop hurting him.

“Baby,” he murmurs, stretching the syllable out deliberately. He knows what it does to you. Knows you can’t ignore the sultry tone. “Can I give you your present now?”

You almost melt into his touch, the way he breathes out the petname makes your knees weak, and the press of his plump, pink lips on your neck makes you almost forgive him. But unfortunately for you, the shots are infiltrating the sensible part of your brain, no longer thinking clearly.

“Is it to leave me alone? Because I would love that.” You spit at him, causing the boy to loosen his grip and fall back slightly.

As soon as you turn around to look at him you instantly regret the words that escaped your lips. Jaeyun’s eyes are wide, his brain working overtime as his chest moves heavily, trying to calm his anxiety-shaken heart.

The alcohol in your system is making you react in a completely opposite way to how you would. If sober you was alert she would be comforting Jaeyun and giving him a thousand kisses to apologise. But unfortunately drunk you is in charge and she is dangerous.

“I need you to stop being so clingy, it's embarrassing.” Stop talking you scream at yourself, “Can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” For the love of god please shut up and apologise.

Jaeyun doesn’t move. Transfixed with hurt at your pointed words. You know his insecurity when it comes to being clingy, often told from everyone how he is too much and too overbearing. Yet, you never thought that, not once.

Well, until today apparently.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that leaves his lips, and then suddenly, his expression shifts, his lips curling into something that almost resembles a smirk - but there’s no humour in it. Just something bitter, something cold. He nods, tongue pressing into his cheek before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“Hope you have fun fucking him.”

The words are low, venomous, and before you can even process them, he’s turning on his heel and walking away.

Your heart lurches. You’ve fucked up big time.

“Jaeyun,” you call after him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to see how close you are. You push through the crowd, your heels clacking against the floor as you reach for his wrist, pulling at him. “Babe, please.”

He yanks his arm away as if your touch burns him as he continues his way out of your house and beginning his descent home. He can’t fucking believe this. Any of it.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, breathless. “I didn’t mean it, Jaeyun.”

“Mean what?” His voice is low, but it holds an edge sharp enough to cut. “That I’m clingy? That you’d rather talk to Sunghoon? That you think I would ever cheat on you?”

The anger in his voice is a quiet thing, controlled, but it shakes you more than if he had yelled. You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard him sound so…broken.

“Okay, yes, I was late for your birthday, and believe me, Y/N, I am so fucking sorry. I tried to get away, and I couldn’t. But you? Flirting with him right in front of me?” His voice tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “That’s a low I never expected from you.”

Your stomach knots. Shame creeps up your spine. Because he’s right. You knew exactly what you were doing. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry, not to fall apart in front of him. You want to reach for him, to kiss him, to take it all back.

But the alcohol makes you reckless. Makes you cruel. It makes you not see sense.

“How am I supposed to know you aren’t going around with other people?” The words slip out before you can stop them. For fuck sake Y/N. Control. Your. Self. “Half of your football team was here on time, but suddenly the coach only wants you to stay behind? Fucking funny, that, isn’t it?”

Jaeyun lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “I fucking love you, Y/N. That should be enough for you to understand I’m not fucking anyone behind your back.” His voice softens slightly, but it’s strained, exhausted. “Do you not trust me? Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

Silence. He’s met with silence from your end as you stare blankly at him.

And that makes him furious. He had an ounce of faith you would deny it, to ensure him that you do trust him and none of his previous actions have ever made you doubt him or his love for you.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, gift-wrapped box. The black box with a white ribbon looks less celebratory than it does pitiful now. With a sharp, forceful flick of his wrist, he throws it at your feet.

“Happy fucking birthday, Y/N.”

You flinch as the box lands with a soft thud. If only you had kept your fucking mouth shut all of this wouldn’t be happening. Tears wouldn’t be flowing down your cheeks and Jaeyun wouldn’t be feeling his heart break down into a million pieces.

Your hands tremble as you crouch down, fingers fumbling as you unwrap it slowly. Inside, nestled carefully, is a gold sun-shaped necklace with a rose quartz centre. Handmade, delicate. The date engraved on the back isn’t your birthday. It’s the day you first met.

Your throat and eyes feel like they are on fucking fire.

And by the time you lift your head, Jaeyun is gone.

He’s gone.

For the first time tonight, you feel completely and utterly sober.

___

You stand before Jaeyun’s front door, your breath uneven as your fingers tremble around the small black box in your grasp. The night air is biting against your skin, but the heat of regret burns hotter inside you. Each step you took here had been slow, your legs growing heavier with the thoughts circling your mind. But as much as guilt and sadness eat you up, you need to make things right. You cannot lose Jaeyun over this.

So, you don’t hesitate and your fist begins to pound against the wood with urgency, not caring who it woke up in his house.

You hear his footsteps almost immediately, quick but fed up, each one thudding against the stairs inside. His voice comes first, irritated but muffled through the door.

“Oh, my days-” he groans. “It’s like three in the bloody morning. What do you want?”

The lock turns before he’s even registered who it is. But when he sees you - red-faced, chest rising and falling too fast, dress bunched up at your thighs so short you might as well be wearing a belt to protect your dignity, tears spilling freely - it makes his entire body stiffen.

“Y/N?”

You break.

It starts with a sharp inhale, a choked sob forcing its way out, and then suddenly, everything you’ve been holding in rushes forth.

“Jaeyun, I’m such a fucking idiot,” you cry, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to get them out. “I don’t even know why I said what I did - I know you would never cheat, I’ve always known that I was just drunk and - and stupid, and I was so mad that you were late, but it wasn’t even a big deal, not really, and I-” Your breath hitches between sobs. “I love you so much, please don’t break up with me.”

The pleas and explanations come out so fast that there is a delay from your lips to his brain. The silence between you leaves the words to marinate and your guilt to rise up again. Saying it outloud, how you acted like a baby all because he was late, really isn’t how you want to start this ‘new mature era’.

You don’t know what you expect. Maybe the slam of the door, another dent in your pride. Maybe for him to look at you with the same intense fire in his eyes that he had hours ago. Maybe for him to tell you to fuck off back to your party which you consequently left behind because pretending to be happy in a room full of people you don’t know sounds less appealing than being sad in the presence of someone who knows you.

But Jaeyun just stands there, eyes softening as the corners of his lips lift into the smallest smile - fond, understanding, forgiving, like he’s already made peace with this somehow, even though he was the one that got hurt.

“Princess,” he murmurs affectionatley, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you in an almost crushing embrace.

The warmth of him is immediate, all-consuming. He smells like bitter citrus and patchouli from his perfume. He smells like home. His embrace is tight, unrelenting, like he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll slip away.

“I will never break up with you, baby.” A kiss to your forehead, lingering. “I’m not angry at you.” A kiss to your temple, reassuring. “I’m sorry if i’m too clingy.” A kiss to your cheek, gentle. “I love you so much.” A kiss to your lips, slow and unhurried, letting each sentence sit with you as a reassuring linger.

You let yourself melt into him, hands clutching at his bare chest, grounding yourself in the steady rhythm of his heart against your own. The idea of never being able to hold him like this again haunts your anxiety; you almost lost him.

When you finally pull back, you shake your head, adamant that he has no reason to apologise. “You aren’t clingy, Jaeyun. I’m just an idiot.” Your voice wavers. “I love when you’re like that. I love it all the time. I was just…mad that you were late.”

He nods, biting his lip in thought - a habit of his you’ll never quite get over.

“I’m sorry I was late.” His forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning across your lips. Up close, you can see the remnants of tears in his eyes, the same way he sees them in yours. The weight of tonight sits on both of your chests, but the silence isn’t suffocating. It’s understanding. You both know there was better ways to handle the situation.

You don’t speak. Neither does he. You just look at each other, wordless, as if afraid saying anything more will break whatever fragile peace you’ve finally reached. Both of you are so scared of having the others heart ripped from your grasp.

Then, after a moment, Jaeyun leans in again, pressing another kiss to your lips, deeper this time, his hands finding purchase at your waist as he slowly guides you backwards into the house.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod, barely parting from him. “Okay.”

He leads you up the stairs quietly, careful not to wake his parents - though, it’s a miracle they slept through everything - shutting the bedroom door behind you as softly as he can. His room is only lit with the warm glow from his bedside lamp casting pretty shadows across his walls.

Jaeyun looks down and notices the small black box still clutched in your hands.

“Did you like it?” His voice is hesitant, almost boyish. He spent so long picking out the perfect piece for your birthday. The sun represents everything you are to him. Bright, warm, electrifying, and his motivation to keep going because no matter the cold and rain that come, the sun will always come out to wash it all away.

You follow his gaze, then nod as you left out a breath. “I love it,” you whisper. “Can you put it on me?”

He nods without a word, taking the box from you and carefully undoing the clasp. “Turn around, Princess.”

You do as he says, your back to him, lifting your hair out of the way as he fastens the delicate chain around your neck. The gold is cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. But the chill doesn’t last, because before you can even react, Jaeyun’s lips press against the nape of your neck, featherlight and tender.

Another shiver racks over your body, but this one has nothing to do with the cold.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur, turning to face him. Your fingers trail down his chest, his toned stomach, stopping just above his waistband. Only now do you realise he’s only in his black boxers, his skin still slightly damp from his earlier shower. “Let me make it up to you.”

His breath stutters.

You glance up at him beneath your lashes, fingers toying with the lining of his underwear, waiting. His jaw tightens and his head tilts back oh so slightly, exposing the sharp lines of his apple. He wants this. You can feel it in the way his muscles contract beneath your touch, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, his breathing coming quicker as he processes your words.

“Baby, I don’t need you to do that.” Jaeyun’s heart is beating fast as you trace the outline of his cock with your pointer finger. He’s trying to defuse this situation without hurting your feelings.

Trust, it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s the opposite. But he doesn’t want to take advantage. Your emotions are pent up high, you might be feeling like you are obligated to do this as some sort of consolation act - also paired with the fact that you’re drunk - it doesn’t really mix well in his stomach.

“Y/N, I forgive you, there is no need to-”

What he isn’t aware of is that you aren’t listening to him, not a fucking syllable, because yes, you might be tipsy - mostly sober from the walk and adrenaline in your veins - you are also horny and need to just feel him. To be close to him.

And how much closer can two people get with a cock and a mouth?

Your hand trespasses his boxers and begins to lightly stroke his shaft, making him mutter an almost inaudible ‘fuck’, his lip finding it’s way between his pretty teeth.

Once you see him give way to apprehension, you use your free hand to guide him to sit on the gaming chair, letting him fall back with a thud as he tries to focus on balance rather than your hand wrapped around his growing member.

“Relax, Jaeyun. Let me do this. I need to taste you.” Your voice is low and has a hoarseness to it that lets him know you’re more than needy. He could cum right there and then as his mind conjures up images and fantasies of what you’re about to do.

You slide his boxers off, slapping the side of his thigh so he will lift his bum off the chair. “I’ve missed your cock so much.”

Jaeyun laughs at that, huffing it out with a breath he was holding in, obliging to your request. “We literally fucked yesterday.”

“Technically,” you point at the clock sitting coincidentally on his desk as it reads 3:27am, “it was 2 days ago. And I didn’t even get the celebratory cliche birthday sex.”

Pouting, you look up at him in an almost begging gesture, knowing the scene in front your boyfriend is enough for him to shutdown and implement meltdown mode. You are so beautiful in every way to him - even spite of the tear-stained cheeks and mascara smudging - but right now you look so deliciously irresistible.

His hand comes to cup your cheek as his thumb wipes away some of the running makeup from your face, his gaze locked onto yours with admiration and pure love. It’s so innocent despite the lust weaving into his blood.

“You’re so lovely” he whispers, smiling gently at the love of his life. “Lovely people deserve to get fucked on their birthday, yeah?”

There it is, the Jaeyun you were waiting for. And the permission you needed to take his cock in your mouth. With a smirk, you kiss his bell before engulfing it, letting the taste of him simmer on your buds.

It catches him off guard and his hands instinctively move to your hair, gripping like a lifeline. “Fuck, Princess you’re so beautiful like this.” He looks down at you with hooded eyes, admiration and desire flooding his pupils as they dilate, love evident.

You bob your head up and down, going faster with the praise. Each time you work your lips up his length, you swirl your tongue around the tip, dipping into his slit every second time to create a teasing and torturous rhyth. You know everything that make Jaeyun feel pleasure; every vein that’s more sensitive than the other, every flick of your tongue or tantalising bite of your teeth just to keep him on edge.

Over the past few years, you’ve learned and memorised each other's bodies, likes and dislikes. You are convinced no one could ever know you the way Jaeyun does. Not in body and certainly not in spirit.

A few weeks ago you walked in on Jaeyun jerking off, phone in hand and ass levitating off his bed as he lost himself in the pumps of his fist. Once his eyes locked with yours, he threw his phone away and apologised a million times. You’re not the type of girlfriend that has an issue with her boyfriend watching porn, you have obviously done it too sometimes, like if he’s away for the weekend to football training. Jaeyun watching porn wasn’t exactly shocking or upsetting.

What you did feel though was curiosity. As you picked up the phone, the girl was giving overly enthusiastic head, gagging and dribbling as the man fucked his cock into her mouth. You have never done anything like that before, Jaeyun always holds back thrusting his hips up so as to not cause you pain or discomfort.

But seeing the lewd act on the tiny screen…you wanted it.

So today, you were going to give him everything you got. Apologies can’t be half-arsed, right?

You smile and lift your bum from your feet so your mouth is hovering over his cock at a higher angle, trying. Smirking, your eyes meet his and you take his full length in your mouth, gagging as the tip breaches the back of your throat, kissing your tonsils like they were long lost lovers.

“Baby, be careful,” he hisses, gripping your hair as he tries to pry you off. Jaeyun is always attentive, always caring, but right now you need to see him lose control.

So, despite his attempts to separate you from his shaft, you don’t budge, Rather, you sit with his dick in your mouth and swallow, closing your throat around his head - a trick that wasn’t easy to master, many attempts on a plastic dildo failed, but you knew you had to try.

And thank fuck you did because as your throat pinches the tip and it sucks at his slit, he moans so loudly you’re scared his parents will hear from their room. He groans, legs elivated slightly as his body tries to reach the pearl gates, not understanding that heaven is between his legs right now. He has never felt anything like this before.

“Fuck, baby, where did you learn that?”

Instead of giving him an answer, you work your mouth up and down his cock again, not giving him that euphoria again and only teasing it every so often. You can’t let him get used to it, not just yet. You have a funny feeling that this will come in handy for the years to come, a bargaining tool of sorts.

You pinch his thighs a little, eliciting a his from his mouth and a jerk from his hips. Jaeyun slams his cock into the back of your throat, unforgiving and totally by accident. He’s so gone in the haze of your warm mouth enveloping him that he takes a second to realise what he done.

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry,” he apologises, resting his ass back on the seat and patting your head to soothe you. Yet, surprisingly, you don’t protest or grumble - you simply moan, trying to let him know that's what you want, what you need.

So, you pinch him again and thankfully, he gets the memo. “Oh? Does my baby want me to fuck her pretty little mouth?” His tone is cocky albeit breathless in composition, his semi-fucked out flush only adding to his filth.

You’re dripping at even just the thought and hum around him in acknowledgment, the vibrations going straight to his heart.

He leans down and pulls you off his cock gently, a fist full of hair that could easily hurt you, yet, his touch is so tender the roots hardly yank from the scalp. “Tell me you want it. Say it.”

You blush, biting your lips together as you gather the courage to utter the words into the heated air. You’re confident, especially around him, but there’s something so vulnerable about wanting to be used like that, that makes it a little harder to speak.

“I-I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t speak anymore.”

A groan leaves his body and his jaw tightens in primal desire. You’re perfect. He will never understand where you came from, or how he has the honour to live out this lifetime with you, but he is so thankful and makes a silent promise to anyone above that he will never ever take it for granted. “If it gets too much just tap my leg three times okay, baby? No matter what. If it hurts, if you need air, let me know,” he mutters into your lips as he kisses you gently. It's so tender and loving. But you know you’re about to get a completely different Jaeyun in two seconds.

You could not be more excited.

Standing up, he squeezes your cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to get your mouth to open once again. His dick is red and frustrated, multiple veins protruding around the shaft. You’re starving for it even though you’ve been devouring him for the past 15 minutes - that’s just how addicting he is.

Placing his cock in your mouth you take him all in as he slowly thrusts. You can see he is trying to be gentle, testing the waters of how much you can really take. Sometimes, your eyes are bigger than your belly, and he has no problem giving you just enough to satusufy this craving without overfeeding you.

But he is going too slow, too careful; so you meet his thrusts, sucking up and down at an altered timing so his cock jabs your throat forcefully..

“My baby,” he breathlessly moans, watching you work for more. As much as he loves to see it, for both of you to truly experience this for all that it should be, he needs to let go of his apprehension of hurting you and just give you everything he has.

He picks up the pace, his tip battering against your throat with fervour - and you love every second of it. You hum in pleasure around him as he pounds faster into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as each thrust indicates the loss of control from the boy powering over you.

“Y/N you’re so fucking good to me, such a perfect girl,” he moans from the depths of his chest and his thrusts become erratic, sloppy, as he gets closer to his high. Your mouth is a miracle worker but your throat is a devine intervention. He can feel the stretch of your canal around him, barely fitting him in as you gag and gurgle.

Your hands reach around to to his ass and squeeze, causing him to sink further into you - if that is even possible. The tip of his cock is sitting in the middle of your throat, like a caterpillar waiting to bloom into the butterfly it’s destined to be.

That’s when you try to swallow again - although with some difficulty - and clamp around him. Your boyfriend’s reaction is immediate as he hunches over, fingers twisted in your hair as he roars out in pleasure. “Jesus, fuck…fuck!”

He quickly draws you from his cock, taking a few steps back himself just as you were about to taste the sweet tang of his cum. Your anxious nerve peaks once again, scared that you’ve done something to upset him or taken it too far.

“Jaeyun what’s wrong?” Your voice is as steady as you can make it as you utter the question.

Every perspective, he sees your worried stare and shakes his head. Within a second, he is bent down so you are eye level, patting your hair in a reassuring gesture. “I need to cum inside you, princess, that’s all. You did so fucking well…you’ve been holding out on me all these years.”

His words which are laced with humour and certainty calm you instantly, body no longer running cold with regret or guilt. Cupping your cheek with his roasting palm, he slowly guides you both up to stand, his mouth never leaving yours as his tongue strokes yours messily. He breathes new life into you, beautiful and serene.

“Such a pretty dress,” he states admiringly as he lays you down on the bed. “As soon as I saw you in it I knew I had to fuck you while you wear it.” Jaeyun hikes up the dress so it sits above your hips, exposing your red underwear, his favourite. “All for me, yeah?” His fingers lightly graze your slit over the lace.

“Everything is for you,” you exhale earnestly, a smile etching onto your face as you take in his puffy features. He looks so delicate and vulnerable, wearing all his emotions on his skin.

The loving confession makes his heart swell in his chest. He loves you with every fibre of his being and he will until the end of time.

Pushing your panties to the side, he slips his finger between your folds, not quite pushing inside of you but teasing - much to your dismay - and he can feel just how wet you are. It’s like he’s just set off a firehydrant in the summer; and he is more than ready to get soaked beneath it.

Just as he goes to slip his middle finger inside of you, you grab his wrist, whining and shaking your head, pausing him in his actions.

“Just fuck me, Jaeyun. Please.” Your eyes land on his cautious ones. He hasn’t prepped you yet and you both know it’s already a struggle to make him fit when he’s stretched you open, nevermind plunging in without some semblance of stretch. “I can’t wait for your cock any longer.” Frustration is laced within every word and your body acts as a tangible demonstration of your need as it writhes or some attention.

Seeing you so depserate, Jaeyun can do nothing but yield to you, nodding as he immediately takes a condom from his stash and slides it on with urgency. His sensitive tip colliding with the rubber makes him wince. With the way you’re splayed out below him, mixed with the cum sitting right at the barrel of his dick, he’s not convinced he wont bust as soon as your tightness encapsulates him.

Nevertheless, he looks for lube but can’t find his usual tube, the crystal blue bottle evading his sight.

You watch him search, frustration building as time ticks by. Impatient and leaking, you take the opportunity to shuffle down on the bed, grab his cock, and guide it to your entrance.

Whipping his head around, Jaeyun has shock plastered on his face, but it is quickly switched to one filled with pure lust as you push down on his tip. “Princess can’t wait ,huh?” His question is rhetorical and mischievous as he relishes in how worked up you’re getting.

You eagerly shake your head as you push him in further, the bell sinking past your hole and opening you up for the rest of him. The stretch isn’t as painful as you thought due to how turned on you are, your walls so fucking eager to be filled that they glad accept his presence.

“You’re the death of me, Y/N,” your boyfriend moans as he pushes himself fully into you, bottoming out slowly, still cautious of causing you pain.

“I need you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you mewl in a high pitched breath.

And who was he to deny you? It was your birthday after all, even if it wasn’t technically within the time frame. The blur between the late night and early morning allowing you both to still celebrate together.

His hips begin to quicken, ass tightening with each sharp thrust as he pierces right through you. Your back is arched off the bed as he grips your hips and picks you up, hitting at that angle he knows gets you to the peak of your mountain.

“Right there, baby! So, so good.” Your encouraging words spur him on to find a smooth albeit forceful rhythm as he jackhammers into you. His bed snapping against the wall with his brutal force.

He hovers over you, one elbow on the bed to hold him steady while his free hand pulls at your dress and yanks it down, exposing your bouncing tits. He gasps at the sight; jiggling and inviting, faint red marks from the last time he marked your body with his signature.

For some reason, his mind takes him back to the party - how Sunghoon’s hands were all over you, touching you and trying to claim you. It makes him mad, hurt, down right deranged.

He will never let anyone touch you every again. It’s only him. It will only every be him.

“Tell me I’m the only one,” he mutters as he kisses your neck, vulnerability goosepimpling over every part of his skin. To think that you could be taken away by someone else makes his heartbreak, he needs the reassurance, the promise, that you won’t leave him.

Bringing his head up and cupping his cheek you stare lovingly into his eyes as your guilty ones gaze back. “You’ll always be the only one. I don’t want anyone else. I need you. Only ever you.”

Jaeyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he practically growls at your words, picking up the pace again, hammering into you all of his love and staking claim over you. You are his and he is yours.

You’re trying not to moan loudly but he’s hitting all the right spots and it’s got you gasping for air, your lungs begging for a lick of oxygen that has been stolen due to your boyfriend’s touch. His hands are roaming your body, gripping and grasping at every part of you as he grounds himself with the feeling of you. The action will leave bruises and he’ll apologise in the morning but right now he just needs to feel you.

“Even if Sunghoon wanted you?” he asks quietly, still feeling that anxiety sit at the tip of his heart. He believes you, he knows when you say that he is the only one you want - you mean it. But his head speaks before he can stop himself, craving constant reassurance despite his trust in you.

You shake your head immediately. Never for a second would you even spare any time of day for the other, not when you had Jaeyun. You were going to have serious words with yourself once you’re done and curse yourself for even entertaining Sunghoon for a second - drunk or not. You made Jaeyun feel insecure, you’re the reason he’s doubting himself like this.

“He could never love me the way you do,” you bring your lips to his ear, “and he certainly couldn’t fuck me the way you do.”

Pure fire and passion rise through Jaeyun’s body and he piledrives into you at an unrelenting spead, eliciting a high pitched whine from your lips. He places your legs on his shoulders and drives in deeper, kissing your deepest crevice with the tip of him.

“You take me so well, princess. I love you so fucking much.” Jaeyun might have been fucking you like he was a man possessed to ruin you, but his kind and nurturing personality will always come through.

He was perfect.

You clench around him, “Jaeyun, babe, I’m so close,” you pant out in ache as your nails begin digging into his arms, clawing at him to find some semblance of reality. You’re losing yourself to the stars with each stroke.

“Me too, baby.” he kisses you gently, “cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

His dirty words strum the last string of your banjo as you come undone around his cock, your cunt squeezing and sucking him in like it needs him to be a permenant fixture inside of you. You chant his name into his neck as you bury your head, inhaling his scent as you finally lose yourself to your orgasm.

Not letting up, Jaeyun still pounds into you, determined to fuck you though your high. “Good girl.” he mumbles into a kiss he plants lovingly into your hair.

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the condom, filling it up the way he wishes he could you. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m cumming, baby,” he bellows out, his grunts loud and swimming in an aching desperation as his hips still, holding you firmly onto him.

Jaeyun’s lips move lazily against your damp skin, whispering soft I love yous in between the featherlight kisses trailing down your neck. He doesn’t want this moment to end - the warmth, the closeness, the way your bodies are tangled together in a haze of love and breathless exhaustion.

His hold on you tightens as he exhales shakily, his body shuddering as the last waves of pleasure run through him. His cock twitches one final time before he slips out of you, discarding the used rubber to his bin, aiming half-hazardly. He doesn’t like even this tiny bit of separation, so he quickly recovers, nuzzling against your chest, mouth ghosting over your heart as though he can soak in every ounce of love you have for him through the mere touch of his mlips.

Your fingers slip into his hair, stroking gently. “I love you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, voice still heavy with sleepiness and satisfaction.

Jaeyun lifts his head, his puppy brown eyes locking onto yours, filled with overwhelming love. Unwavering, unfiltered, and so deep that you can feel it crawl into your bones.

He smiles softly, almost shy, like he’s just as caught up in the weight of this moment the same as you. “I love you too, angel. So fucking much.” His voice is thick and before you can say anything else, he kisses you, slow and deep, sealing a silent promise between you both. “Let’s never fight again.”

You giggle against his lips, arms looping around his shoulders. “Never like that again.”

Just as Jaeyun presses his forehead to yours, basking your shared, tender moment, the door slams open.

“Sim Jaeyun, if you have a girl in here-”

Jaeyun’s dad’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, and time itself seems to halt.

Jaeyun yelps, moving at a record speed to grab the blanket and throw it over you to hide you completely, his body shielding yours from his dad’s intrusive gaze. Your entire face burns with mortification as you scramble to tuck yourself into the covers and laying still, wishing more than anything that the bed would just swallow you whole. You knew you were being loud but jesus fuck you thought Jaeyun would have at least locked the door.

His dad freezes in the doorway, eyes flickering between his son’s horrified expression and the very obvious lump beneath the blanket.

“I told you, no girls in your room except, Y/N!”

Oh, the irony.

You peek your head out just enough to meet his gaze, offering the world’s most awkward wave. “Hi, Mr. Sim. How’s it going?”

Shocked, his dad stumbling back slightly. He was oblivious to your relationship even if he did have a sneaking suspicion. He just never thought this would be how he confirms it.

Jaeyun groans. “Dad, can you please leave?” His voice is strangled, his hands clutching the blanket for dear life. He’s always been so careful; made sure to be quiet, to lock the door, to never get caught. But you both just got too caught up in the moment that every other thing that existed outwith the two of you just…evaporated.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “How long have you…how long has this been going on?”

Jaeyun swallows, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. “Uh. Two years.”

“Two years?” His dad’s voice pitches slightly, incredulous. “You’ve been dating for two years and you never told us?”

You chew on your lip, feeling the heat of embarrassment settle over your skin. Jaeyun, sensing your discomfort, slides his hand under the blanket to squeeze yours reassuringly.

“Dad, we weren’t trying to keep it a secret,” Jaeyun says, voice calmer now, steady. “It just…happened. And then the longer we waited, the weirder it felt to bring it up.”

Mr. Sim scoffs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You know we wouldn’t have stopped you from dating, right?” His tone softens as his eyes drift back to you. “And Y/N-”

You stiffen slightly, bracing yourself whatever scolding he has in store.

But instead of a lecture, a small smile tugs at his lips. “You know you’re like the daughter I always wanted.”

Your chest tightens with fondness. You’ve always been close to Jaeyun’s family - you practically live at his house at this point. His parents know your favourite food and snacks - keeping an army of them in their pantry. They understand your weird little habits like having thin cutlery or a certain glass depending on the drink and temperature. They invite you over for Christmas Eve, they comfort you when you’re upset. They love you. And deep down, you’ve always known you had their approval.

Still, hearing it out loud makes your eyes sting.

“Thank you, Mr. Sim.” Your voice is small, but sincere.

He nods, before letting out a tired sigh as he turns his attention back to Jaeyun. “Alright, get some sleep. I’ll talk to your mum about this. Hopefully she wont burst in with wedding books.” The joke lands flat because all of you know that it is not a joke. Jaeyun’s mother is typically fond of you and all three of you know that if she can make you officially part of her family, she will do it in an instant.

Mr. Sim turns to leave but pauses, glancing back at you. “And Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell your parents.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll take it well…”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already gone, closing the door behind him.

For a second, there’s silence. Then Jaeyun breaks it with a wheeze..

“Oh my god,” he gasps, clutching his stomach as laughter shakes his entire body. “That was…that was-” He dissolves into another fit of laughter, eyes tearing up in hilarity.

But you fail to see the funny side as you smack his chest, mortified beyond belief. “I am never coming back here again.” You bury yourself under the blanket, groaning.

Jaeyun grins, pulling you closer. “You’re literally my girlfriend. You have to come back.”

“Not if your dad kills me first for waking him up.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Nah didn’t you hear? You’re the daughter he never had.”

It tickles your heart as he mutter the words into your hair. Despite the embarrassment, your heart feels giddy - full. All the weight you’ve been carrying regarding the sneaking around and also the fight between you and the boy holding you close is all vanished. Gone.

It makes you realise that you can overcome anything with Jaeyun.

You spend the rest of the night curled up in Jaeyun’s arms, tangled together beneath the sheets, whispering drowsy confessions of love until sleep finally pulls you under.

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight spills into the room, casting a golden glow over Jaeyun’s peaceful, smiling face. His lashes flutter slightly, his lips parted as he breathes in and out steadily. You watch him for a moment, warmth blooming in your chest like daffodils in spring.

Jaeyun’s phone vibrates at the desk and you quickly crawl over to retrieve it. You’re not one to pry but you see the seconder of the text before the content and immediately run cold.

Your mum.

2nd mumma: Your mum called and told me about you and Y/N. You are NEVER allowed to sleep over again, do you hear me? I am so angry that you both kept this from me

…Three dots appear. Then another message.

2nd mumma: I’m happy for you both. I love you. Come to dinner tonight so we can celebrate.

A small laugh escapes you as you snuggle deeper into Jaeyun’s embrace, letting the moment wash over you.

You’ve never been happier.

Lets hope you can keep it this way…

______

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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multiheadcanons · 3 days ago

Text

MERCS DOING KARAOKE. I WAS DELIRIOUSLY FEVERISH.

offense: they’re singing it wasn’t me by shaggy. they have pyro do the raps. it’s close enough, the rest of the team finds it to be a hoot.

scout: scout will always do baby got back. the team finds it hilarious, if he’s drunk he can be a little gay goofy and nobody will really. think anything about it, a very nice time! the team knows it’s during scout’s song they need to get drunk, because soldier is just ridiculous.

soldier: soldier… jane doe…. jane doe will pick from one of the many songs in the great american songbook. and he loves doing the star spangled banner. he’s not good. but frankly, if the team can get drunk enough, it’s just eight men (and pyro) scream singing the star spangled banner. at this point sedate them. sometimes engie will make him do this land is your land. it’s kind of touching for the rest of the team. they get fuzzy feelings. like they really belong here.

pyro: bust out that taylor swift discography babey! will generally do you belong with me. at this point the men know it word for word, it’s popular, it’s cheesy, it’s a good karaoke choice. the team cheers, they get into it a little. it’s an enjoyable performance!

defense: you know they’re busting out its tricky by run-dmc right? we all know this? their timing is insane. has the team hooting and hollering.

demo: he’ll get the team out of their seats with boogie wonderland. sometimes literally. “get up! get on your feet!” but he definitely gobbles it up. gives a whole show. he’s really just missing some sequins and a wig and this would be a hell of a drag show. definitely has the charisma uniqueness nerve and talent. team is thoroughly pleased.

heavy: it takes a little more coaxing to get heavy up there on his own. but when you convince him… he’s doing one of the saddest renditions of live and let die you’ve ever heard. sometimes snipes will get up there with him and do the horn solos. just an oddly soulful performance. leaves you thinking.

engineer: ….turn it up some. he’s pulling out honky tonk badonkadonk by trace adkins babeyyy! got his guitar, got the amp, he’s turning the base into a country dive bar. kinda hot. everyone ends that with some feelings.

support: they’re soooo wretched i hate these men. they get up there, they’re discussing quietly amongst themselves, they start snickering. never a good sign. demo gets on stage, takes place at the piano. they begin the most heartbreaking rendition of bohemian rhapsody. the team is genuinely tearing up. they never pick regular songs. it’s always some of the saddest shit they can think of.

medic: oh he’s eating i need a hero. he’ll get the team off their feet with that one. he’ll also fall back on any elton john song. he loves im still standing. so does the team. it’s a little funny with the respawn machine bringing them back, right? they think so.

sniper: you know he’s doing who can it be now, right? we all know he’s doing who can it be now? he’s pulling out his sax; they’re all eating up who can it be now. does a different sax solo every time. the team screams when he busts out the sax.

spy: he’s doing le festin. everyone normally gets very confused and then scout realizes it’s the ratatouille song and everyone cheers. it annoys him, he hasn’t even gotten to the good part! let him get to the good part! a lovely ender.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 demo #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 #someone bring me some fever reducers pls

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lesbianherald · 2 days ago

Note

No because they’re both going through corruption arcs!!!!!! I think all the time about how S1 arc 1 Jayce and Viktor are the comic relief characters - their scenes are always a source of hope and levity when everyone else is going through the horrors of impending war and how intentional it is for when they eventually fracture. The story is literally set up so that you fall in love with these characters and then watch them lose themselves.

This is a really interesting way to look at it! I hesitate to call Viktor's a corruption arc in the traditional sense of the word because so many of the choices he makes I think are so rooted in this base desire to survive.

ok more below sorry for yapping so much today

To survive in piltover first and then just to survive in general. I think part of Viktor's arc is so interesting because he's not necessarily making all the right or safe decisions, but he's making decisions I think most people could see themselves making in his shoes.

His fatal flaw i think is his inability to see himself as someone who has support. He thinks he has to shoulder this alone. Shoutout singed! His mentor essentially signs off on his death. The bridge scene happens which makes him feel like he can't rely on Jayce. Sky is present, but he completely doesn't recognize (or want) her affection for him or her ability to help in a way that's so extreme it results in her death. Piltover doesn't give a shit about him. (Every scene in the council room with Viktor, and the scene with mel, jayce, and the weapons conversation are so important in illustrating this)

I also think his desperation to live + a bit of his internalized ableism play a huge role in Viktor's arc as we find him going back to the hexcore before having any shimmer that would guarantee his survival. He's 1000% responsible for his own actions but his own actions are so based in his lack of power in so many ways so its hard to view him and Jayce's arcs as the same type of corruption at least.

I see a really interesting thread between Viktor's arc being tied to isolation and Jayce's arc being tied to being surrounded by the wrong people (!!piltovian high society in general!!). Viktor's arc being what happens when you feel you have nobody and Jayce's arc being what happens when you have a lot of people and feel you have to please everybody.

I also see Jayce's arc as one of what happens when power you don't want gets handed to you and Viktors as what happens when no matter what you do you can never obtain the power you need. It puts them at really interesting odds.

#ask bee

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dubiousanon · 8 hours ago

Text

I literally can't stop thinking about this.

Naruto never says it out loud, but he knows Kakashi knows.

After all, Naruto has never exactly been the shining picture of subtlety. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve, has always radiated his love out like a beacon, bright and warm and painstakingly obvious. He's never had a real reason to hide his feelings before now, and now that he does he knows it's already too late.

He can see it in the way Kakashi sometimes averts his gaze. He doesn't quite grimace when Naruto gets ahead of himself, but there's always a flash of discomfort there that hits Naruto like a slap to the face anytime he catches it. Kakashi isn't stupid, and he's far from dense. Naruto watches, and of course he'd noticed.

It hurts, but it's expected. Naruto hasn't gotten a lot of his wants in life, and this is just another one of them. It's not like he can blame Kakashi for how he feels. He understands the position he's put him in is awkward, that what he feels for his former teacher is objectively wrong. Naruto just... can't help it.

Kakashi-sensei was one of the first people who cared more about him than the fox sealed in him. He's always looked out for Naruto, has kept his best interests in mind, has supported him, taught him, loved him when nobody else would. Naruto isn't sure when or how that love changed on his own end. If maybe it started growing and just didn't stop, or if something specific triggered it and he didn't notice until it was too late. He has no idea.

All he knows is that Kakashi doesn't feel the same way. He's never going to feel the same way. However he does look at Naruto, Naruto is secure enough to know it's not like that. And that's fine— again, Naruto gets it. It doesn't stop the want or the burning fire in him that wants to reach out and consume any scrap it can get, but he's okay.

It's a quiet resignation. An acceptance that for once, he can't change things. Naruto will live his life alone, as close to Kakashi as Kakashi will let him, and that'll be enough. Getting to see him every day will be enough. Talking to him and laughing with him and training with him will be enough. Those friendly pats on the head, and never anything more, will be enough.

————————————

Kakashi's not blind, but Naruto isn't either.

It's because he watches Kakashi so often that he notices it at all. Naruto has always been hyper aware of him in a way he isn't other people, tuned into everything he says and does when he's around. These days, it's rare for Kakashi to hang around long if there isn't someone else there with them. A buffer so he can pretend things are normal, and that Naruto doesn't feel the way he feels.

Lately, though, Naruto has been seeing him what feels like everywhere. Even if it's just peripherally, he knows Kakashi enough to know that things with him are seldom ever a coincidence. Naruto can be doing anything— grocery shopping, eating out, walking home, jogging off to train. It doesn't matter. Somehow, Kakashi always seems to show up.

And it's weird. It's different, but Naruto is so happy for the extra time that he doesn't... he doesn't think about it. He knows he should've looked closer. He knows those brief head pats turning to hair ruffles and an arm over the shoulder should've been flashing neon signs telling him something was wrong. Deep in his gut, he'd know something was off.

It has just been so good. It was too easy to let himself be starstruck. Kakashi actually giving him the time of day with none of the underlying tension, smiling easily with that curious head tilt he liked to do. It was amazing, just like things used to be before Naruto's feelings grew too big for his body to contain and started to pour out.

It's not quite Naruto deluding himself, but it's close. The discrepancies are right in front of him and it's not that Naruto is too much of an idiot to see them, he's just so much of an idiot that he chooses to ignore them. He turns his logic the other way for as long as he can, until—

Until he... can't. Anymore.

It's stupid, the way it happens. Naruto isn't doing anything special. It's a hot day, the kind that has his shirt sticking to his chest and sweat pouring down his back. He feels the sun burn across his shoulders and the bridge of his nose as he stretches, legs split wide apart and body tilting into a forward fold. It strains the muscles in his back deliciously, pulling at all the knots his springy old mattress had put in it the dubious night of sleep before.

Naruto runs a hand through his hair, taking a slow, deep breath. It's by chance he glances up and spots him. This training ground is in Konoha's far eastern corner, under-maintained and hard to happen upon by chance. Naruto comes here for privacy when he needs it— trying to train becomes too much of a spectacle if he does it anywhere else.

Kakashi-sensei is there, perched in a tree, and he's looking at Naruto. Actually, really looking at him. There's none of the usual laziness in his gaze. His stare is sharp, piercing, and Naruto sees now clearer than ever what he was pretending wasn't there before. When Kakashi looks at Naruto, he looks at him like he wants to eat him alive. Like he wants to grab him and never let go. Like Naruto is something he wants.

Naruto's heart drops. The illusion shatters.

This is not his sensei.

Kakashi from a universe where he loves Naruto but knows it won’t be returned is body swapped with the kakashi from a universe where Naruto loves kakashi and knows it won’t be returned.

Naruto manages to sus out the changes first because while things are the same everywhere else, this kakashi actually looks at him.

In the eye when he speaks instead of down at his book, watches when he’s not looking, pays attention to his training…and when he goes to watch kakashi in turn he starts catching his eyes.

It’s…it’s nice to be watched by the one person Naruto has always looked to.

It’s also wrong because nothing he’s done could have earned this attention. This affection in his sensei’s chakra. Not so quickly, not so intensely. It’s not his sensei.

#naruto #naruto uzumaki #kakanaru #down bad kakashi #kakashi hatake #RAHHH this AU #kknr #everything to me #it would be so good

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bullet-prooflove · 3 hours ago

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Valentine's Day Bingo 2025: Just A Story - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kishie8 @darqchilddaydreamz @privatetruths @ilariyalavorowrites

Companion piece to:

Unburied - You're forced to make a choice when one of your secrets becomes unburied.

Kings & Queens - You and Chibs marry under terrible circumstances.

You’re supposed to meet for lunch the morning after you marry Filip. There’s a bakery on Main Street that you love, one with French pastries he always gets in his beard. You’d agreed to meet him there when you left this morning, a last meal before you turned yourself into David Hale for the murder of your ex-husband.

It takes him an hour to realise you’re not coming. He sits at one of the tables, nursing a coffee, telling himself you’re just running a little late but with every passing moment his chest tightens because he’s knows what you’ve done and he knows why you did it.

Seeing you in handcuffs, it will kill him, as sure as a knife wound to the gut would. What you don’t understand is that he’s been bleeding out since you made the decision, his life force pouring out onto the concrete beneath his feet.

This final act, it’s the equivalent of carving his heart out of his chest and stamping on it with the heel of your stiletto.

He already knows it’s too late by the time he gets to the station, your car is parked in the lot, your signature on the visitor’s list. When he’s shown into David Hale’s office he doesn’t expect to see you sitting there in his visitor’s chair, not a pair of cuffs in sight.

“I was just explaining to Evelyn that there was a break in at the morgue this morning.” Hale informs him, his fingertips rubbing lightly at his right temple. It’s a sign of stress, one he knows well from all the times the deputy has tried to pin something on the Sons. “A couple of corpses have gone missing.”

It’s news to him because if he could have disappeared the body of your ex-husband before now he certainly would have. It would have avoided all of this devastation the two of you had been going through.

“Oh aye, they get up and walk out did they?” Filip responds as he takes up residence in the seat alongside you. His hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining and you squeeze lightly because there’s hope right now, hope that you might not end up in a jail cell.

“What it means is if someone was to make a confession regarding the killing of one of those men that there would be no evidence to support the claim.” Hale says pointedly, his gaze focusing on you before he sighs, rubbing his palm across his jaw. “I don’t want to lock you up Evelyn, I don’t want to destroy your reputation over some asshole that almost killed you, not unless I have to.”

And there it is out in the open.

David Hale knows you murdered your ex-husband and he doesn’t want to do a damn thing about it, not unless his hand is forced. Until now Filip couldn’t understood the relationship between the two of you. Police officers and defence attorneys, their natural enemies but there’s always been a mutual respect between the two of you, a friendliness he’s never been able to fathom.

“David used to be the one who came to the house when...” You trail off then because you don’t like talking about the beatings, not even after all this time. “He was the one that helped me with the restraining order when I did decide to leave him. We’ve been working together for a long time now helping victims of abuse.”

There are certain facets of your job that you don’t tell Filip about. There are aspects of his that are the same way. It’s an unspoken agreement the two of you have. The work you’ve been doing with Hale, it’s low key, off the radar. Shit that the both of you could get into trouble for if it ever came to light.

“The story I just told you…” You begin, your attention turning back to Hale and deputy shakes his head indicating he doesn’t want you to talk anymore.

“Unless those bodies turn up a story is just a story.” He says before tipping his head towards the door. “Now do me a favour and get out of here, I have work to do.”

Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

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#chibs sons of anarchy #chibs imagine #soa chibs #chibs x reader #chibs telford #filip chibs telford #filip telford #filip telford x reader #soa

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cosmicqueen10 · 3 days ago

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Lord forgive me for the cringe fest that is the real me. (Keep reading to get the whole story cause it's a still a lot for me to take in, thnx).

But thank you big sis for recording this which I was unaware of at the time because I was fully glued to Aleks who has bewitched my heart since November because of Lighter from Zenless Zone Zero and then rewatching Solo Leveling S1 but dubbed just to hear his all out performance as Sung Jinwoo.

Him being my first ever celebrity to meet and talk to at my first ever convention literally sent me on Cloud 9. Sorry the audio is kinda hard to hear at some parts. Some of that interaction I don't remember every little detail and some things I forgot or didnt get to say. Like telling him how I wished I could be more stronger and capable like Jinwoo and how he said I can and its all about perspective, I don't remember some of that exactly. I was in such a daze.

This is what I drew for him and Yuri to sign. Took me five days, lots of sleeping shifts between the couch and my bed working on it. Seriously hope to get this laminated ASAP since I did use some colored pencils in this piece and don't want this to smear or worse.

Big sis gave me $200 which means I also could get a print. Plus Lighter is single and not dead. He doodled on it as thanks for me drawing for him and being so modest about me praising him for being an amazing artist himself, I have seen some speedpaint videos of his.

Aleks himself is very cute in person, sweet, modest, and I got to shake his hand after the end of this video cause my sis had to stop recording to take our photos. And let me tell you ... best damn handshake of my life. Warm and calloused to a T. ☺️

I know he doesn't like smiling in photos but tbh my eyes always get too beady like my mom's when I smile in photos.

Out of all the photos I took those two days at Megacon, only like 2 of them I looked decent. Like with Yuri I looked fine. That's a story post for another time.

Got overwhelmed and went to the bathroom a lot those three days cause I was a nervous wreck, slept not so well, and now I'm fully sore and may just hit the hay after posting this.

Overall, Aleks went from being my #2 favorite voice actor to now tied with Yuri as #1. Even though I told him he's #2. I did tell Yuri that as well and asked if he could tell Aleks they're both tied. Honestly those two be busy bees. I'm a face in a sea of tens of thousands weebs. But I needed this, wanted it, despite the not so good moments that happened before and after this ...

Oh the day after I wanted to say hi to him again and update him on the whole #1 thing but his line was more packed and even at closing time the line still be packed. I legit parked myself nearby like a shameful giant ... God if he saw me like that, I doubt it cause again packed line but still 😑. Forcing me and big sis to wait until closing time but after that it lead to us struggling to get an Uber to drive us back to our hotel cause night traffic be hell in Orlando especially before Super Bowl Sunday; I don't get the appeal of it tbh. All cause of my selfish wanting. 🙃 Again, cringe case.

Yeah. This selfish Demon in human flesh is a mess still after all that. But at least meeting him, Yuri and others made me feel alive, free, over the moon and back. And I wish it never ended. I miss it so much. Maybe in another life, I get to have more moments like that with others outside my family. Like friends. And someone very special to me. If only. This moment is my safe haven. Paradise. Heaven.

Aleks Le, if you ever find this post, then thank you. I'll always love and support you and your endeavors. In voice acting and for being your driven, intense, goofy, crazy, beautiful self. With all my ❤️.

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formulaaone · 1 year ago

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📸 Logan’s Instagram

#logan sargeant #i love him. i love him #no matter what happens #signed or not. i will always love and support him #williams racing #f1 #formula 1

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pu-butt · 1 year ago

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Thinking about Him* again.

*shaolin fantastic the lady-killing romantic

#my dearest darling you-know-who you are: this is your one sign to stop reading these tags so you can avoid spoilers #with that out of the way: some thoughts in no particular order #1. this post is a lie because i am actually always thinking about shaolin fantastic #2. a l i e n b r o t h e r s #no but like weve been robbed so bad #of dizzee and shao connecting here #elaborate on the fucking alien brotherhood man #and like also... it's really what theyre all about huh and in such different ways #shao is doing anything and everything to reach that fucking opera #and he depends on zeke for it all the more because zeke is his ticket out #and then also he loves zeke so clearly #and it is such a mess of different stakes and vulnerability and then like...#him having made choices for his survival that zeke wont support and it hurts in a million different ways #and it's like... idk man #shao gets SO close to his opera and he is still an alien #and dizzee goes about his opera so differently #and maybe i think #just m a y b e he couldve helped shao in some way #they couldve helped each other #but we were robbed #this was all extremely incoherent i know #maybe one day i will write an actually coherent and fully thought out analysis of shaolin fantastic #and esp his extremely layered relationship with zeke #but today is not that day #today (like any other day) is just me having Thoughts and Feelings #i will say once again: i will never forgive baz luhrmann for ditchting the get down before giving shao a happy ending #the get down #netflix the get down #can we get a the get down renaissance around here please?#i miss them so much always

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psikind · 2 years ago

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hey so. childhood friend of mine commited suicide late july and his dad’s trying to fund the money for his funeral service - if people have the money to donate please do the service is in 3 days (august 5th) and he’s very close to the goal but otherwise it’d mean a lot if people spread the link around -> https://gofund.me/f04d9bf0

#gofundme #suicide #donations #idk what else I would tag this with but. yeah #sorry to the people that're gonna get jumpscared by a blocked tag I just felt liek this was important to share #he was like. the one irl friend I had consistently that never bullied me because we were both so different from everyone else #we fell out of touch but I always talk about him fondly and then my mom told me this morning and just. god #I'm really glad I'm gonna have a lot of support and love this month I already know that but what a way to start it huh.#I hope everyone's doing okay. if you're in a hard place right now take this as a sign to do something nice for yourself #talk to a friend go buy some chocolate listen to your favorite song anything #and if it feels like nothing's making you happy #please trust me when I say it will some day #I know everyone says that I know but I've been there I've been through some horrible fucking shit #like anime anti-hero/rival/love interest-to-die levels of trauma #trust me. trust. me.#it will get better. wake up another day. this too shall pass #sorry for the ramble I just feel Very Strongly about this

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meownotgood · 2 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day lovely! <3333

Here’s an aki collage, since all of our hearts belong to him 💖 I wish you an amazing Valentine’s with all of your plushies and ofcourse the man himself ♥︎

happy valentines day!!!! YES WE LOVE HIM, AKI IS ALL OF OUR VALENTINES TODAY 💗

#I've been thinking of him all day I swear #I got home from work and took a killer nap and had a dream about receiving like twenty boxes of aki plushies in the mail lol #think it's a sign to go on a valentines day shopping spree..... huehuehue #I hope you had a good valentines day!! :)#thank you for all of your love and support as always #I appreciate you 🤲💗#ask mags

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lokissweater · 4 months ago

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birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

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