#so i just called my mom like mother pls help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aduh0308 · 1 month ago

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stupid fucking parents [choi beomgyu]

kinktober 2024 !! summary: if you'd never met him, this would be a lot easier. granted, if you never met him, this wouldn't be a problem in the first place. genre: smut, non!idol au, p with little to no plot warnings: stepcest,:stepbrother!beomgyu, perv!gyu, rich!gyu, he’s a year older, sub!gyu, mean dom!reader, dom!gyu, sub!reader, he uses your soap, mommy kink, mommy kink in a condescending way, praise kink, dacryphilia, voyeurism, degradation, exhibitionism, slight spit kink, big dick gyu, handjob, blowjob, titjob, readers tits are big enough to give said titjob, nipple play (on both), he’s got sensitive nipples, sending nudes, lots of smut, masturbation, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex (pull out method), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of cunnilingus, beomgyu refers to himself as ‘gyu��, reader calls him 'dumb pup', 'slut' 'whore', 'pet', 'good boy’, ‘pretty boy’, ‘gyu’, and ‘pretty’, beomgyu calls reader ‘pretty girl’, ‘baby’, ‘darling’ and ‘good girl’, mentions of anxiety and depression, he’s lowkey sleazy for 100 words (he fucks someone else), she hits him in the face once and he gets turned on by it, she sucks on his Adams apple for half a second (real), y/m/n is your moms name, and b/d/n is beomgyus dads name bc idk what im doing, take a shot every time I use the word ‘fuck’ (hint: its more than 50) word count: 7.3k 🎧 — rubberband (tate mcrae) + lovers in the night (seori) + the killa (txt)

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy matrimony of Ms. y/l/n and Mr. Choi."...

"Fuck, look at you, fucking me like some animal, aren't you?"

"Do you, y/m/n y/l/n, take b/d/n choi, in sickness and in health, through prosperity and through hardship..."

"Dumb pup, can only think with your dick, can't you?"

"I do."

"C-can't, feels so good, gon' cum, pl-please!"

"Do you, b/d/n choi, take y/m/n y/l/n, in sickness and in health, through prosperity and through hardship..."

"Go ahead, cum like the whore you are..."

"I do."

"Don't make a mess of me, though, can't let everyone out there know i'm fucking my soon-to-be step brother..."

"You may now kiss the bride."

"N-not my fault, fucked you—ah! B-before they even got together..!"

You snap out of your mind's replay of the day’s prior events, eyes on the ground, even as your mom and Beomgyu's dad share their first kiss as husband and wife. You feel eyes on you and look up— it's him, of course it is. And fuck, does he look good. Suit and red tie, brown hair laying just perfectly, you can feel exactly what possessed you to ruin him this morning.

But you can't anymore.

And that's what pisses you off, because Beomgyu was yours before your parents even laid eyes on each other.

That's how they met, actually. You'd been over at his house, dad gone at work, so you two could get up to exactly what you wanted to. Laying on his couch afterwards, his dad had come home, and your mom stopped by to pick you up— she'd dropped you off on her way to work since your car was in the shop.

And it was love at first sight. You couldn't pretend like it wasn't, you saw the way they looked at each other. You just hadn't expected it to escalate to this. Walking back down the aisle together with everyone standing to clap, you can barely keep your eyes on them.

You're crying, but not in happiness. It's selfish, you know. You've seen how happy your mom is nowadays. And she deserves it. But you can't help but feel like you've lost something.

You and Beomgyu are last to leave the altar, following the other groomsmen and bridesmaids into the wedding hall for the afterparty. He tries to grab your arm, but you shake your head at him. You can't do this anymore. It's for real now.

The look on his face is pure hurt and you know it, only heading to sit next to your mother at the dinner table. Soon, you're sucked into conversation with one of her cousins, mind completely off of Beomgyu and your lack of conscience when it comes to him.

After dinner, however, it's time for the first dances of the night. Bride and groom, bride and her father, groom and his mother, and then, your mother's genius idea, a dance for the groom's son and the bride's daughter. Which you'd forgotten all about, until the mc of the night, one of Beomgyu's relatives, calls the both of you up.

You swallow when Beomgyu's hand rests itself on your waist. So gently you almost shiver, he pulls you closer until you're pressed against him in waltzing position. The music is slow, soft, but speeds up until the two of you are just spinning in circles, identical wide grins on your faces.

The song ends with him dipping you, and you come up with an elated grin. That is, until you realize your predicament. You step away from him with a soft smile but a pointed look, and he only nods. He grips your wrist in a hand. Dropping his lips to your ear, he whispers, "Leave early with me? I want to show you around the house."

Right. You'd forgotten that Beomgyu's (significantly larger) house was now yours. God, you have no idea how you’re going to be able to handle this.

You only nod, let him know you'll be ready in an hour, and join the dance floor once more with the rest of your mom's family.

The hour flies by with you teaching multiple line dances to Beomgyu's family, including Cotton Eye Joe and the Wobble, and by the time it's time to leave, you're flushed and breathless. Giggling and taking his hand, you're led to his car.

"Are you wasted?" Beomgyu laughs, helping you in before climbing into the driver's seat.

"No! Didn't drink anything but the kid's lemonade." You flinch when his hand meets your thigh out of habit. Getting the message, he lets it drop to the center console instead.

"Your things are already in your room," he tells you when he pulls into the driveway.

"And where's my room?"

"Across from mine."

You don't have to ask where his room is. You've been in it enough times in the past 3 years to have memorized exactly how many steps it takes to reach it from the front door.

"Alright, sounds good."

Beomgyu opens the front door for you and ushers you in. He opens every door for you to help you find your way around as well. You soon learn that there are 4 bathrooms, 5 bedrooms, a game room, a living room, 2 dining rooms (a formal one and an informal one), a kitchen, and too many closets to count.

When he opens the door to your bedroom, you smile at the coziness of it all. Your things have been put up in an almost identical fashion to how they were in your old room. And there was only one person in this house that knew your room well enough to be able to recreate it to this level of detail.

"Did you do this?" You whisper, turning to him with a look of incredulity.

Beomgyu nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. He flicks the hair out of his face with his pinky, a small habit you've noticed since day one. "Do you like it? I tried my best to do what I remembered, but some things might not be how you're used to..."

"I love it, Gyu, it's perfect." You flop backwards into your new bed, skirt piling around you. Beomgyu slides beside you when you pat the bed— this might not be the best idea, but right now, you can't think of anything else you’d rather do.

He's taken off his suit jacket, left only in the vest and white shirt and tie, and he looks so good and desirable that you have to close your eyes. He's warm against you, body taut with muscle, and against your better judgment, when Beomgyu's lips meet yours, you don't resist.

He pulls you up and into his room across the hall, dragging you back down with him onto his own bed.

"Gyu, we shouldn't, you're my stepbrother now..." The word leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth, but he shakes his head with a pout.

"Please, need you..." His hands grip the hem of your dress, pulling you closer by your hips, into his lap. You're protesting the whole time, pressing kisses to his lips either way. And oh, the way his whines are so pretty when you slide his dress pants to his ankles make it all worth it.

Tugging at his dick with a scoff, you spit on it once. "What a desperate little slut, wanting to fuck me the night our parents get married, wasn't enough for you this morning, was it?"

Beomgyu shakes his head quickly, tears already beading in his eyes. "N-no, always need more, need you so bad it hurts..."

"Yeah? Gyu needs his dick wet every second of the day, doesn't he? Always such a mess."

He's nothing less than a mess now, drool leaking out the corner of his mouth, wetting the pillow beneath his head. There's a sheen of sweat glossing his face and he writhes beneath you when you squeeze the base of his dick. "P— please, 'm gonna, gon' cum if you don't stop, stop, please, wan' be able to fuck you!" he begs, gripping your wrist in a hand.

"You can't fuck me if you cum now?" He nods, little sniffles leaving his lips. "How pathetic, can't even last a few minutes, what a fucking loser."

"Please, can't— ngh— just wanna get you 'round me, please, n/n..."

His voice is low, breathless and a little choked, and you finally give in. Beomgyu's chest shakes up and down while he watches you slip your dress over your head, exposing the blue lace bra you'd put on this morning. You don't even bother taking it off, nor your underwear, simply sliding your panties to the side to rub his dick against your soaked cunt.

As soon as your dripping walls suck him in, he's a goner, head rocked back into the pillows and hips twitching up to yours pitifully. Shifting your weight down against him only once, he's got tears running down his cheeks. This isn't unusual— there's a reason you always top him. As soon as the boy gets his dick wet, he's gone, off to another planet or some shit.

"Won't you open your eyes, want you to look at me while your dick's inside me, you're not that much of a whore that you can't keep your eyes open, are you?" you hiss, grabbing his chin in your hand.

Beomgyu nods with a weak look, eyes trained on your tits, and he's pulling the lace down with his fingertips. You grip his chin harder, looking down at him with a glare. "Don't you dare, take it off properly if you want it off. This was 60 dollars, I'm not letting a dumb pup like you ruin it."

His fingers fumble at your back, desperate to see you but unsure of where the hook is. A low moan leaves his lips when he finally gets it off, taking your tit in his mouth almost immediately. Swirling his tongue around it, you grab a fistful of his hair, shoving your hips towards his again.

You're lucky that he's big, big enough to hit all the right spots inside you without you having to do much, because the look on his face tells you that he's not capable of anything other than sucking on your breast. And despite all your words, you're not very capable of anything other than fucking yourself down against him.

Beomgyu's eyes are practically rolled back into his head when you look down at him again. The sight is funny, even if it causes something to twist in your stomach. The way this pretty boy can't even make the proper faces once his dick's in your cunt.

“You’re so fucking disgusting, don’t you now? Fucking me when you’re like this?” you hiss, gripping his hair in your hands.

“’m sorry, 'm so sorry, i know, know 's gross but I can’t!”

His eyes fly open to meet yours in a panic when your fingertips pinch at the pink of his nipple. "D-don't, m-mommy, gon—gonna cum, y'know I can't take it, t' sensitive, please..."

You do know. And that alone is why you toy with him more, rubbing over the puffy bud while he squirms under you. "Don't you dare cum inside me, you hear? Don't want a dirty pup's cum inside me."

He nods frantically, eyes red and glazed with his tears, and he weakly tugs his dick from your cunt. You wrap your hand around yours to jerk him off until he reaches his peak, white cum painting your stomach in ropes.

"N-no, don't, what are you doing, c-can't!" Beomgyu lets out a choked noise when you roll your hips back towards his.

"Shut up, you can, gotta make me cum too, remember? Cause you're such a good boy, aren't you?" He nods fast, and you lower your torso to his to press a consoling kiss to his lips. They're bitten red, swollen from the constant tug of his teeth, and the familiar desperation he retaliates with makes you smile. Pulling back once more, you watch his hips twitch up to yours. "See? Told you you're a good boy, making me feel so good..."

"S' glad, let me touch, please?" He's slurring his words now, hand running through the soft brown of his hair.

"Go ahead, jus' this once, cause you're being so good..."

Beomgyu's eyes light up immediately, and his hand flies to your swollen clit without hesitation. Rubbing in circles, you have to admit, he's always been good at this. Even though he's sloppy with his movements, direct stimulation making you hiss through your teeth, he's still expert in the way he plays with your clit.

"Fuck, Gyu, gon' make me cum if you keep up with that, don't stop, will you?"

He nods, though you can tell the way your walls flutter around his dick is making his brain go fuzzy. "Can make you, 'm a good boy, gon' make you feel s' good.."

His hips grind up against yours with one particularly rough motion, and you're gone, form shaking above his.

"Doing so good, mommy, so pretty..." Beomgyu coos, spare hand resting on your cheek.

You roll onto your back next to him, chest heaving, and a wave of guilt hits you when you realize just what you've done. You fucked your stepbrother. On the day of your parents' wedding.

You sit abruptly and gather your things. "Goodnight, Gyu."

He pouts at you, dick pressed flush to his stomach, and you have to avoid looking at him. "Stay? Please?"

"No. I'm going to my room. Goodnight, Beomgyu."

And without a backwards glance, you step through the threshold of his doorway and promise you'll never be back in to answer his request.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

And you weren’t even considering it, not even thinking about it until weeks later, when your parents decided to watch a family movie before they leave on their honeymoon.

Your parents on the couch across from you, Beomgyu sits next to you on the “loveseat” in your living room. You’d never heard of such a thing as a loveseat until you moved into the Choi house– it must be a rich person thing. But the chair was just big enough for two people, sitting side by side, to have about four inches of room between them.

Not exactly the situation you want to put yourself in.

You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it only gets worse when he tugs a blanket over the two of you and hooks one of his legs around yours. He’s in basketball shorts, and the feeling of his skin on yours is not something you want to be feeling right now. Shooting a warning look his way before scooting as close to the armrest as you can, you try your hardest to tamp down all the memories of things you’ve done with him.

But it’s hard when he slides closer to you again, side pressed flush to yours.

“You’re all up on me, pet, I swear to god…” you whisper.

This was the only nickname you’d kept up with since you cut him off. Your parents were innocent enough to think that it was a cute thing– your mom had even commented on it, “You calling him pet is so cute, I’m glad the two of you are still getting along when you’re living together.”

But Beomgyu knew that it wasn’t.

His breath catches in his throat the moment the name slips from your lips, and his hand grips yours under the sheets. “I’m cold, warm me up, please?”

You relent with a sigh. A small smile twitches the corners of your lips when he nuzzles against your body, and your focus finally turns back to the movie.

It was one of your mom’s favorites, one from the year you were born called “A Walk to Remember.” It was a sad movie– you knew the whole time the girl was going to die eventually, which made it hard to enjoy the film itself.

Good thing it was sad, though, when Beomgyu coaxes your hand down the waistband of his pants. Because he’s panting, sniffling in your ear while your fist slides up and down his dick, and his father comments on how funny it was that Beomgyu’s crying so badly at this movie.

You only laugh, looking at Beomgyu with a twinkle in your eyes. “Had no idea you were so sensitive, Gyu.” His eyes are tear-filled when he looks up at you, a little squeak leaving his lips when you thumb over his tip.

“N-not my fault, she’s gonna die, it’s sad!”

Good lord, you could praise this boys acting skills right now. Beomgyu’s trembling against you, tears slipping down his cheeks so shamelessly. Your mom tosses you a box of tissues. You catch it and take two— one for his tears, and one to wipe up the cum that’s streaking his tummy in white.

You tuck the second tissue under the blanket to clean him up while Beomgyu catches his breath. His chest is heaving, up and down, and when your palm accidentally grazes his already re-hardening dick, he sucks in a breath so sharp he starts coughing.

“I—I’m okay, I swear,” he chokes out, and you rub his back, trying your hardest not to laugh.

“You know,” your mom says when the movie finishes, all four of you in tears. “I’m really glad we can have moments like this, as a family, even though the two of you are all grown up.”

You manage a weak smile at her. You agree with everything in that sentence— except the family part. You go to say something, but a warm hand on your thigh turns your attention once more to the brown-haired boy beside you.

“Wanna come play with me?” He asks, lips pulled into a pout. If he were asking this a month ago, you would’ve agreed, no hesitation. You know exactly what his idea of “playing” entails.

But now, in your current situation, you shake your head. “I’ve got homework to do for my class on Monday. Maybe next time.”

You leave the room in a silent stupor, mulling over the thoughts in your head. God, you’re so stupid. How could you fall for him like that again? You promised yourself to leave him alone, and look, here you are, all self-respect gone the moment his body touched yours.

You need to distance yourself from him again. You can’t fucking do this, any and every choice you make regarding him is going to hurt both of you, and your parents.

So you vow to yourself that you’ll never have to be in a situation like that with him again. Because you can only assume, with your parents leaving for two weeks, that Beomgyu’s going to pull something like this again.

By then, you hope you’re able to say no.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Once your parents leave, you find ways to keep yourself busy all day long, only coming home once you know Beomgyu is asleep in bed. You can’t risk being in the vicinity of him— you don’t have enough self control for that, and you know it.

But your friends cancel plans the morning of your sixth day home alone, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Beomgyu’s in the kitchen making coffee when you wake up. He’s in a pair of grey sweats and a regular black t-shirt, but the simple pairing sets off the glow of his honey-gold skin and you have to take a moment to catch your breath,

“Good morning,” you say, opening the fridge to grab a quick snack.

“Morning,” he hums in response, not turning to look at you.

If he had, he would’ve noticed the way your jaw fell slack, cheeks going hot purely at the sound of his voice. At least half an octave deeper than his regular speaking tone, his morning voice had your stomach twisting the way it used to when he touched you.

“Coffee?” Beomgyu asks, finally looking your way. You can see him mentally making note of your state— hair a little disheveled, long shirt hanging to your mid-thigh, tiny shorts not even peeking past the hem.

“Sure,” you manage, taking a bite of the protein bar you found in the fridge. It’s cold, and you almost break a tooth on it, but it’s better than nothing.

Beomgyu grabs your favorite mug from the cabinet, pouring in just the right ratio of cream, sugar, and coffee. You take it, fearing you’re unable to hide your surprise. He catches your eye and a small smile peeks through the otherwise stony expression on his face. “You think I’d forget how you take your coffee after three years?”

You sip your drink to hide your smile. “Of course not.”

Over the scent of your coffee, you catch another, familiar smell. Not the smell of Beomgyu— that you remember all too well. But the smell of your body wash, coming from the boy right next to you.

“Did you use my soap?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. You watch Beomgyu’s body language closely; he’s turning back away from you, shoulders hunched, fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger.

“N— Yeah, I did, mine was out..” He mumbles, running his hand through his hair.

“Oh.”

That’s not the truth, you can tell, but you don’t push, and Beomgyu quickly changes the subject. “I’m having someone over later, just so you know. If you’re here.”

“My friends ditched me, so I’ll be here.” You smile wryly. “Thanks for the head’s up.”

“Of course.”

The two of you stand there in awkward silence for a moment. The only noise comes from the sipping of your coffee, and the slight hum of the air conditioner pumping out cold air.

“I… I’ll be in my room.” You say. Beomgyu nods, looking down at his phone as if he couldn’t care less.

Chewing your lip while you walk back to your bedroom, you flop on your bed. Why would he lie to you about using your soap? It’s not like you’d be mad at all. It’s entirely fine, you’ve used his soap before. Of course, that was for completely different reasons…

Wait.

That couldn’t be it at all. He’s not that perverted, is he? To use your soap to jerk off? It’d certainly explain his behavior…

You take a deep breath to clear your thoughts. No, you are not going to think about Beomgyu jerking off with your soap. But the mental image won’t leave you, and before you can even realize what you’re doing, you’re sliding your shorts off your hips and slipping your middle finger between your folds. It brushes your clit— oh, fuck, you haven’t done this in weeks, not since the wedding, and your poor, desperate clit can barely even handle the slight stimulation from your fingertip.

Your knees knock together the second the middle finger of your non-dominant hand presses against your awaiting hole, slick already spreading through the thin material of the underwear you’re wearing. The pressure in your abdomen never ceases when you nestle your middle and ring finger entirely between your fluttering walls.

“F—fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips towards your fingers. Images of Beomgyu are running through your mind with every circle of your finger around your clit— Beomgyu between your legs, tongue on your clit, fuck, he always loved that… Beomgyu with his dick pressed flush to his tummy, whining and pleading for you to touch him, tip leaking precum and making him all a mess…

You’re cumming in seconds at the memory of how he’d whimper under your touch, his pretty brown eyes swimming with tears. Mouth dropped open in silent pleas, you chase your high until your body aches for a break. You rest against the cold of your bedsheets to catch your breath.

Settling down with a book, you forget almost entirely what Beomgyu’d said about bringing someone over, until it was almost 4 in the afternoon.

Downstairs, the front door opens. Voices from the living room travel perfectly up to your awaiting ears, and you find yourself pressing your lips together in frustration. Beomgyu didn’t mention that the person he was bringing over was a girl.

“Is anyone home?” You can hear her ask, a sickeningly sweet smile lacing her question.

“Just my stepsister.”

And just like that, you’re reduced to nothing but a single word. His stepsister. Like you weren’t his sole reason for existence for the past three years. Who did he go to when he was spiraling at night, who did he call up at four in the morning because he knew she’d always answer? That was you. Not whoever this other girl was.

“Oh, good. She won’t mind, will she?”

“Of course not. Especially if you can stay quiet.”

You can practically hear the wink in his voice, and it makes your skin crawl. Is he gonna have sex with her? He wouldn’t dare, not with you in the house.

Right?

“We’ll have to see how good you are, then..~”

“Trust me, baby, I’ll show you a good time.”

You shove your earbuds in your ear and blast the most hype music you can, 2010s dance-pop type beats, trying your hardest to drown out anything else that comes from their lips. You can still hear the door to the room across from you slam shut—can still hear the girls forced pornographic moans. Where the hell did he even find this girl?

After an hour and a half, you’re convinced she must be gone, and you pad down carpeted stairs to make yourself a sandwich. Just in case, music is still playing as loud as possible through your earbuds.

As you slice your sandwich in half, ready to go back to the safety of your room, Beomgyu’s door opens a crack and a lithe figure slips from it. You have to assume it’s the girl you heard before— she’s about your height, wearing a crop top, short shorts, and she’s got mascara running down her cheeks. Damn. He must’ve managed to do her good, then. How come he never pulled that out with you?

She catches sight of you. “Oh, you must be the stepsister?”

You nod, and she smiles, running a hand through her hair. “I hope we weren’t too loud. I’d hate to disturb you.”

“No, no.” You’re quick to assure her that everything is alright. “I’ve had music playing the whole time.”

“Okay, good. Well, I’ll be off now. It’s nice meeting you!”

“Nice meeting you too!” You call after her retreating form. With a huff, you settle down on your mattress once more, taking a bite of your sandwich.

There’s a knock at your door. “Yes?”

Beomgyu pokes his head in. “Wanna play?”

Your mouth falls open at his pure audacity to come in here and ask you that after fucking another girl. “No, I do not.”

“Why not?” There he goes with that fucking pout again, the one he knows gets you to snap.

“Why not? Because you just fucked someone else, and I don’t feel like fucking someone’s sloppy seconds. Plus, I’d probably get an STD of some sort from you.”

“Please?”

He’s sitting at the edge of your bed by now, and you reach to grab his chin. “I said no, pet.”

“See, you’re saying no, but you’re acting all fem-dom and calling me pet, which makes me think that you really do want to fuck me.” Beomgyu gives you a singular shit-eating grin, and you slap him in the face. Hard.

“You’re such a whore, Beomgyu, god! Why the hell do you think I’d want to fuck you?? You already got your dick wet once today, is that not enough for you?”

He rubs his cheek with a shocked, wide-eyed expression. Your gaze drops to his crotch— there’s a very obvious tent there, and you raise your eyebrows in disgust. “You’re getting turned on by this?! You’re fucking disgusting!” You exclaim. “Get out!”

“Fine, whatever,” he mumbles under his breath, slinking out of your door and back into his bedroom.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Over the course of the next week, you don’t see Beomgyu out of his room once. You can hear him, though. Good lord, can you hear him. This house makes you finally realize what “thin walls” actually means— and every night, you can hear perfectly how he’s whining, whimpering as he gets himself off, gasps of your name the only semi-intelligible sounds that leave his lips.

The past two days, he’s even resorted to leaving his door open all day long. Best be sure you’ve seen him changing one too many times, and you’ve made sure to be quiet playing with yourself after.

Scrolling on your phone mindlessly, three texts come through simultaneously. Two from you and your friends’ group chat, and one from Beomgyu. The latter is an image, which is already suspicious in itself, but, against your better judgment, you find yourself opening it. A small noise of surprise leaves your parted lips when you do.

The image is blurry, but you can make out the subject easily— Beomgyu, laying back in bed, face-fucked, drool leaking down his chin, all while he holds his dick in one limp hand.

You you’re such a pervert

Gyu <3

don’t yiu lije ir?

You

are you seriously jerking off right now?

Gyu <3

Sent a video

You

it was a simple yes or no question you didn’t have to send a video to answer

Gyu <3

aswers yws mpmmy

cime plsy pls?

You

if you can’t even type out a simple message how am I supposed to believe you’ll fuck me good?

Gyu <3

plsplspls neesd yoi sp bsd :()((

You

fine. just this once.

You both knew you were lying.

You peek through the crack in his door, and lord, he’s a sight to behold. Pretty throat on full display with his head rocked back, he’s sliding his hand up and down his dick, small whimpers leaving his lips.

“Knock knock,” you whisper, breathless.

Beomgyu’s glossy eyes light up when he sees you in the doorway. “Come in, please mommy?”

“Does my pretty boy need help?” You coo, easily slipping into your old dynamic. It’s familiar, comfortable, so much so that you can almost entirely ignore the guilt pooling in your stomach.

“Please, hurts so bad,” he whimpers, and when you finally take a moment to look at him fully, you believe it.

His dick looks painfully hard, tip red and leaking precum all over the soft skin of his tummy. “I bet… awh, pup, why didn’t you call me in sooner?”

Lips pulled in a pout, he says, “You got s’ mad last time, didn’t want you to say no.”

“Wouldn’t, not when you’re like this…” You wrap a gentle hand around his dick, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re extra sensitive today, aren’t you, pretty?”

He nods quickly. “Been like this all day, ‘m so sorry…”

You settle between his legs with a smile. Nosing along the inside of his thigh, you look up at him, eyes narrowed. “Did you use my soap again?”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flush an endearing shade of pink. “Tha’s what got me like this in the first place, only wanted to jerk off smelling like you, but then I couldn’t forget how you feel ‘gainst me, so pretty and soft…” His eyes shut when you slowly run your hand up the length of him.

“Don’t worry, mommy’s got you now, gon’ take such good care of you..~”

His sheets are soft, cool to the touch, and soon there’s a wet spot on them from the way your saliva slides down his dick. You hollow your cheeks around him as you welcome the familiar taste— this isn’t anything you haven’t done before together. Your nose rests against his pelvis and Beomgyu squirms under your touch. His knuckles are white from gripping the blanket. It’s almost cute, the way he’s such a mess already, tongue lolled out of his mouth like a dog.

His hips twitch up to your mouth and you gag on him once, pressing them back down to the mattress. “Don’t move, pretty, let me make you feel good.”

Beomgyu nods again, almost frantically, looking down at you with a wide-eyed look that makes you throb. “F-feels s’ good, mommy, not gonna be able to last, I-I’m sorry…”

You only hum around the girth of him, reaching up to pull at his nipple, rolling the bud between your fingers, and you feel him twitch in your mouth. “Wait, mommy, w-wanna, fuck, wanna cum on your tits, please?”

“I’ve got a better idea…” Shifting so your face is almost parallel to his chest, you hike your shirt up and press your tits together around the base of his dick. A single choked sound falls from his lips and he fucks up towards your tits with a desperation he’s never fucked your cunt with in all your years together. You lick over his tip every time it peeks through your tits, and soon, he’s got tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Mommy, so close, please let me, wan’ cum, please please please!” His hand flies to your hair, gripping it so hard your scalp twinges.

“Go ahead, pup, you deserve it…”

The pretty boy underneath you lets out a pathetic whine, and rope after rope of warm cum paints your tits in white. Beomgyu pants underneath your touch— you stroke his cheek consolingly, pressing kisses up the line of his neck. You can feel his heart beat running faster and faster when you lick up his Adam’s apple, sucking a purpling hickey onto it.

“You alright, pet?” You hum, and he only nods again.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Gyu?”

“Can I try topping you?”

His tone is sincere and you could curse yourself for the noise of surprise that slips past the restraint of your lips. Beomgyu looks away, tears filling his waterline again. “Nevermind, ’s stupid, just thought I’d ask, been thinking about it…”

“No, no, Gyu, of course you can, I was just surprised.. We’ve never, you know? Not once in all the years… But yes, go ahead, fuck, at least try.” You rush to reassure him, and his eyes go wide.

“Fuck, are you being serious?” He runs a hand through his hair, sitting up, and you sit back on your heels.

“Yes, I’m being serious if you are.”

“Okay, fuck, alright, I didn’t expect you to say yes…” He seems unsure of what to do with himself, and you slide up the bed until your head is against the headboard, then tug him onto you by his wrist.

“C’mon, pretty, don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out?” You smile, and his eyes fill with an emotion you’ve never seen before in him.

Beomgyu kisses you so hard that it catches you off guard, and you smile when his tongue meets yours. He’s doing well so far, actually.

He pushes your thighs apart, yanking your shorts and panties down and off, slotting himself between your legs to rub three fingers against your clit. An embarrassing mewl of a noise leaves you the moment he makes contact with your swollen bud. You can’t pretend you don’t notice the cocky smirk that stretches itself over his features. “Pretty girl’s already whining for me, what happened, mommy?”

Two long, slender fingers slip to rest between your gummy walls, and Beomgyu’s eyes blow out wide. “Fuck, you’re soaked, you’re not usually like this, are you?”

You shake your head, unable to speak when he curls his fingers in towards your stomach at a pace so fast it sends goosebumps up and down your body. “N-no, you know that, don’t know why it’s different…”

He bites his lip in a smile, fingers jackhammering into you. His free hand pushes your thighs back apart when your knees jolt together. “Don’t tell me you’re into this, are you, baby?”

“Fuck, shut up, Gyu, will you please fuck me?”

“Not with that attitude, baby, not gonna fuck ungrateful brats.”

That makes you shut your mouth. Beomgyu grins down at you again, and the look on his face makes you want to smack him. But you stay quiet, until his other hand finds your clit and you’re cumming around him with a squeak. Beomgyu pulls his fingers out of you with a smug smile, licking them clean, then kisses you again, hiking your shirt up and over your cum-stained tits.

“Clothes off, darling,” he coos in your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth.

You slip the shirt off the rest of the way, and Beomgyu narrows his eyes, tongue between his teeth as he looks you up and down. “Fuck, you’re so pretty…”

“Gyu…” you whisper, and his gaze rests on yours. “Please?”

“You’re asking so nicely… might as well, think I can cum inside this time?”

“If you can actually top me without turning into a mess the second you get your dick inside, you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

And you mean it. It’s not like you haven’t thought about him as a dom— the thought’s ran through your head almost every day since the first time you fucked him. It just hadn’t occurred to you that it was possible for him. He’s consistently a, for lack of a better word, pathetic sub, whining and panting the moment you touch him. Even if he’d decided to be extra bratty, he’d still lose it all the minute your skin is on his.

So this new change is definitely not unwelcome.

“Sounds good, mommy.”

Tip pressed to your dripping cunt, he rocks his hips forward til he’s all the way inside you. You sigh in relief, fitted perfectly. Beomgyu’s always fits inside you like a missing puzzle piece, like he was made to stay here, between your legs.

“Feel so good ‘round me, baby, always taking me so good… I’ve fucked this pretty pussy into being shaped just for me, haven’t I?” He rests his forehead against yours, pressing a light kiss to your lips before pulling back to rut his pelvis towards your thighs.

Every drag of his cock along your walls sends ecstasy rolling up your limbs. Fuck, thank god he’s good with his hips. The fact that he’s managing more than the measly twitches of his hips you’re used to is impressive in itself, but he’s even better than that, and the pure pleasure settling in your lower stomach is enough to have fresh tears sliding off your cheeks and onto his pillowcase.

“Gyu, fuck, need more, f— oh fuck— faster, please?” You mumble, left hand clutching his forearm, while your right hand wound itself through the silky strands of his hair. Your thumb brushes over the slight stubble of his cheek, and he smiles at you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

He pushes his hair back and out of his face, and the simple sight of his forehead on display has your stomach twisting deliciously. Pace turning from quarter notes to eighth notes, your body jolts in reaction, and you swallow thickly. He looks so good above you— pretty chocolate brown hair swept out of his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, your gaze drops to the smooth bare of his torso. He wasn’t “buff” by any means, but your eyes settle on lines of muscle under his skin that definitely weren’t there a month and a half ago.

“Pet, have you been working out?” Your words are embarrassingly choked. Beomgyu gives you another shit-eating grin.

“I have, do you like it?” Despite the mocking tone in his voice, there’s an underlying note of something else, like he’s waiting for you to say yes.

So you do, because it’s the answer, and the look of pure joy on his face makes it all worth it. “Like it s’ much, Gyu, look so pretty…”

“Not as pretty as you, mommy, look at you, all a mess underneath me an’ I swear you’ve never looked better..~”

Your walls fluttering around the girth of him betrays your straight face, and Beomgyu presses a kiss to your parted lips. “Like when I tell you that, mommy? Like when Gyu says you look so perfect under him, all fucked out on his dick, hm?”

You nod frantically, and he nods back at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Mean every word of it, pretty girl looks like a fucking angel with my dick inside her…”

You tighten desperately around him with a whine, gripping at the hands he’s got on your waist to pull you closer to him. “Gyu, fuck, gonna c-cum, t’ good, please, wanna..!”

“Go ‘head, baby, cum all over my cock, love the way you feel ‘round me..~”

You can feel him quivering above you when you clamp down on him, orgasm hitting you like a fucking truck, and Beomgyu kisses away the tears on your cheeks. “There we go, there’s my good girl… C-can I cum too, please?”

“Go ahead, Gyu, you’ve done so good, made mommy feel so good, oh fuck!”

He’s fucking into you with a new desperation to reach his high, completely disregarding the fact that you’ve only just came, and the overstimulation makes your grip tighten on his arm. “Gyu, calm down, fuck, hurts, can’t— can’t take it, Gyu!”

Beomgyu shakes his head, panting in your ear, body trembling against yours. “Can take it, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Gotta get me off now, ’s my turn.”

Fuck, how the tables have turned. A complete 180 from the night of the wedding, and he’s coaxing you to take him despite the way your body begs for a break. The sound of his hips meeting yours over and over again is prominent over the short moans that every one of his movements pulls from your lips.

“Oh, oh fuck, fuck, taking me so good, thank you, thank you, fuck!” Voice breathless, he pins your hips to his, milking himself inside you.

Oh shit. It’s not like you’ve never had the boy cum inside you— it’s happened once or twice, on accident, and you best believe you both freaked the fuck out afterwards— but this time, it’s different. He’s holding your body to his, both of you shaking, and the way you can feel his warm cum in your womb is making you weak.

Beomgyu stays like that for a moment, arms around you, yours around him, dick nestled between your walls. He’s so fucking warm against you, pants painting your skin. The intimacy of it all is almost enough to have you running out of the room immediately, but something in the tone of his voice convinces you to stay.

When he finally pulls out, his cum drips from your cunt and onto his sheets, but you can tell Beomgyu couldn’t care less. His eyes are transfixed on the white of his cum on your thighs, the way it seems like his seed could be leaking from you forever.

Finally, he gets up to find a washcloth to clean you up, and does so with such tenderness that your heart twinges.

“Gyu, we have to talk…” you mumble against his hair.

Laying in his bed, the both of you are dressed only in the bare minimum, Beomgyu’s face resting on your chest, and every once in a while you can feel him sucking a purpling mark onto the flesh of your breasts.

He shakes his head in response to your suggestion. “No, we don’t.”

“We do, we can’t keep doing thi—“

His finger on your lips cuts you off. “Shush, you’re ruining pillow talk. This is not how it’s supposed to be.”

“Listen to me, Beomgyu! I can’t do this, fucking you isn’t gonna do anything but hurt everyone around us. Don’t you understand?”

He’s got the same pout on his face and you know you won’t be able to argue with whatever he’s going to say, that look gets you every fucking time.

Before he can answer, however, the front door bangs open and two voices, one male, one female, call out, “We’re home! Where are the two of you?”

You’re cursing your parents for ruining your important talk, but Beomgyu’s thanking them as the two of you frantically pull your clothes on.

Conversation postponed. ;)

#adas hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #kinktober 2024 #aduh0308's kinktober #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt x yn #txt x you #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #tw stepcest

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depresssant · 14 days ago

Text

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

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jiarkives · 5 months ago

Text

livestream

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you ask your boyfriend to watch your followers.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — rushed ending WEEWOOWEEWOO also, this is based on @loveisallyouneed1125’s idea, i just added a ~little~ twist to it. i hope this is to your liking, bestie! 🤍

Occasionally, you would do a cooking and baking livestream where you would teach your followers how to cook certain dishes or bake, while you talk to them about other stuff. Your teammates would sometimes pop in and talk for a few minutes before leaving you to your thing once more.

Today, however, you had decided to let Bucky join you since your followers have been asking you for more boyfriend content with Bucky.

So you quickly set up your phone on the kitchen counter, making sure to leave enough space for you to work while also being in the camera’s view, then you went live.

You and Bucky waited for your followers to flood in, greeting some of them as they left comments and greetings. Although most of them were just smashing their keyboards and emojis, you still did your best to greet them.

After a few minutes, you got started on your baking with Bucky helping. You had mutually decided on baking chocolate chip cookies, finding it the easiest to bake together. Throughout the process, you occasionally gave out instructions to both Bucky and the viewers.

“Okay, you guys, let me just pop these into the oven real quick,” you said as you placed the last piece of dough on the baking tray. “Babe, can you please watch them while I do this?”

While you were busy with the cookies, Bucky watched the comments like a hawk, staring at them as they flooded in.

User 1: dude you’re literally so fucking cool

“Someone said a swear!” Bucky called out to you as he continued staring at the camera, his eyes narrowed.

“Tell them not to swear, it’s bad,” you chided like how a mother would to her child.

Bucky then recited the username of the commenter, pointing at the camera, “You better watch your language, kid. Your mama’s not going to like that. Mine certainly did not.”

The comments were flooded with all kinds of keyboard and emoji smashes, and words that are borderline incoherent as they reacted to you and Bucky acting like strict parents.

User 1: sorry mom and dad 😔

User 2: pls adopt me y’all are literally my parents

User 3: do u guys need a dog i can bark

User 4: ilysm pls dont die yet

“I don’t think your parents would appreciate you having Avengers as your new parents. Sorry, kid.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, we don’t need a dog. We already have Sam. And no, I’m not dying anytime soon. Thanks for your concern, I guess...”

Sam, who was currently in the livestream, spammed the comments with all sorts of insults for Bucky. He, of course, ignored them all, but not without rolling his eyes.

User 5: i’m gonna tell my friends i spent time with the avengers on the weekends 😎

“Well then, tell your friends I said hi.”

“Tell them I did too!” You said as you came into the camera’s view. “And you seem like you’re having fun without me. I am very hurt.”

User 6: NOOOO we love you mom!!!!

User 7: mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

You snorted as you saw the comment, while Bucky’s brows furrowed, “What does that even mean?”

You laughed, “I’ll teach you all those slangs later, babe.”

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ julia writes about marvel !#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ julia writes about bucky !#marvel x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fluff #avengers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #marvel x gn!reader #avengers x gn!reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky x gn!reader

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ahundredtimesover · 10 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues.

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.

“You may leave,” he instructs.

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.

You’d never cared before, why the change now?

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs.

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement.

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling.

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.

“Uh, yes,” you say.

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks.

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.

“Like them.”

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.

“Your girl?” He scoffs.

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave.

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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hexxynn · 6 months ago

Text

you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

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illubean · 5 months ago

Note

HIHIHI!!! I've been following you for a while and i recently saw your toph! reader HC and I've been wondering if I could request for a katara! reader who's really good at waterbending and specialises on healing and blood bending? Could the characters be Gon, Killua, Illumi and the phantom troupe? Hope you eat well and stay healthy!!!

HXH W/ a Katara!Reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, The Phantom Troupe Type: Headcanons, Fem!reader, Platonic

tried making this gn but then I ended up using fem labels a lot >.< also when I see "the phantom troupe" in headcannon requests im just going to write them collectively unless otherwise specified

Warnings: None

Gon Freecs

your older sister/eldest daughter syndrome is very evident around him

he probably doesn't pick up on it but everyone else sees how fiercely protective you are over him

you have a soft spot for children and Gon is literally the sweetest ever so you can't help but want to keep him safe

before the hunter exams, the only role models Gon has ever had in his live have been maternal figures (Mito and his grandma)

you end up becoming another one

which may also be part of the reason he is so respectful and kind

he's ok with your motherly nature mainly because he's very used to it and he can understand where you're coming from

he cares for you as if you guys were blood related

when he went cray in chimera ant arc you were the first person Killua and Leorio thought to call

yk because of your healing ability

you healed him the best you could before Alluka showed up

and scolded him immediately after he recovered

Killua Zoldyck

he likes someone with Toph's rebellious personality but you?

you're a total wet blanket...

your such a stickler, always trying to stop him when he's feeling mischievous

you remind him of how things were back at his estate...

you are not his mother stop acting like it

but whenever you protect him from getting seriously hurt or heal him he's reminded you have good intentions

he knows you're not trying to be manipulative and controlling but god pls loosen up

despite how distant he might present himself he can't help but grow a little emotionally attached to you

he's never had a healthy relationship with his mom...

you are the only normal motherly figure in his life

he acts like he can't stand how you fuss over him but in reality he cares for you deeply and kind of likes that you feel the need to be protective over him

Illumi Zoldyck

unlike his brother, he likes you a lot more than if you were to have Toph's personality

because you remind him of his mother

he doesn't mind your protective nature as long as you don't get in the way

your 'blood bending' technique is of great interest to him..

you are able to use it on normal days and don't have to wait for a full moon because this is my fanfic and I said so

it just happens to be at it's strongest on full moons

he probs starts keeping track of the moon cycles just to take you on missions and see you in action

with the blood bending technique you could literally stop any enemy

a very OP ability indeed....

which is why he keeps you around

you're strong and have a pretty normal personality so there's really no reason for him to dislike you

The Phantom Troupe

it's pretty 50/50 with them

and by that I mean some of them don't mind your motherly personality while others think it's annoying...

mainly Phinks and Feitan; they feel you're too bossy

but the entire troupe can agree that your nen is impressive

1) they have a healer now and 2) your blood-bending is some sort of secret weapon

you get along well with Nobunaga, bonding over your shared soft spot for children

Chrollo probs personally recruited you for your abilities seeing as he couldn't really steal them..

Machi likes having you around because now she has to stitch people up less often

when Kalluto joins, he becomes the one you're most protective over

the younger members see you as an older sibling figure

aka Shizuku(18) Kalluto(12) and Kortopi(he has no canon age as far as I know but I like to imagine he is a child rather than a small adult...)

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jakeshands · 2 years ago

Text

stars will fall

pairing, park sunghoon x fem! reader

synopsis, you’ve had a crush on park sunghoon for the longest time. all you’ve ever wanted was sunghoon to notice you, or at least pick you out of the dozen other girls throwing themselves at his feet. you can’t believe it takes a zombie apocalypse for him to notice you.

genre, zombie apocalypse au, aouad au, strangers (?) to lovers, mutual pining to lovers

warnings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, swearing, lots of death, minor character death, open/ambiguous ending, reader gets cut with a knife, lots of mentions of blood, stabbing, mentions of guns.

word count, 16.4k

author’s note, heavily inspired by all of us are dead, like there might be some similiar scenes from aouad in this fic😨 please enjoy reading this it was A Lot To Write. i also watched a the last of us gameplay while writing this…so theres some tlou influence in this fic as well. maybe i’ll write a tlou au who knows?! also this fic is heavily unedited, pls mind my mistakes Lol! this fic is for daphne, ily the hoonerz to my jake🫶🫶

Your life is like a wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s full of routine. It’s full of gentle actions and gentle words. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your life isn’t remarkable; you spend your days at school and in your apartment with your mother. You spend nights eating at the chicken restaurant your friend’s parents own. You study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Your life is like a steady wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s a natural occurrence. You stay in the routine you’ve known your whole life. Wake up, take a shower, have breakfast with your mom, walk with Seeun to school, sit next to Kim Sunoo and listen in on his conversations hoping you’ll hear a word about Park Sunghoon, you sit with Seeun in the cafeteria at lunch and watch Park Sunghoon, you go back to class. After school you walk home with Seeun, study at the chicken restaurant her parents own, go to the karaoke booth next door for an hour, walk back to your apartment with Seeun, and study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Today is nothing out of the ordinary. You kiss your mother goodbye and wait outside your apartment for Seeun. The door next to you swings open and Yoon Seeun steps out, a white ribbon tying her hair back. “Y/N!” Seeun cheers, reaching for your hand. “Sorry I’m late. Are you ready to go? I think we’ll have enough time to make it before they start handing out detention slips.”

You hum. “You better wish for that, Seeun. We’ve cut it close before, but never this close. C’mon, I want to at least get to school and have a few seconds to stare at Sunghoon from afar.”

Seeun giggles and you ignore her. You know what Seeun thinks of your crush, she thinks you should just confess your feelings to Sunghoon. “There’s no harm, Y/N!” Seeun’s always told you, but she just doesn’t get it. There’s so much to lose when it comes to facing someone like Park Sunghoon who was built by the hands of Earth.

Park Sunghoon is a widely-known name in the province. He’s an up-and-coming figure skater, his visuals are akin to the K-pop idols you see at university festivals, his body proportions are those of a model’s. His personality, well, that’s a part of the mystery called Park Sunghoon. His name may be widely spoken about, but no one has helpful information about Park Sunghoon. If he’s ever talked about, it’s either about his figure skating career, his looks, or his friends. Sunghoon’s never spoken to anyone outside of his family and close friends as far as you’re aware. You’ve been going to the same school as Sunghoon ever since you could remember and he’s always hung out with the same six boys.

Your crush on Sunghoon started when you were fourteen. Puberty was a crazy time for you. The girls and boys were maturing and separating into groups, it wasn’t the same anymore. You stuck with Seeun, of course, because she was the only friend you ever made. You remember the day you started liking Sunghoon with clarity. It was after school, you were at Seeun’s chicken restaurant and Sunghoon entered. He was laughing with his friends over something, and you swear you’ve never seen anyone laugh prettier than Sunghoon. It was like time had slowed as you watched Sunghoon laugh. It was then, you realized you wanted to see Park Sunghoon laugh for the rest of your life.

Too bad the world wasn’t on your side and as years passed, Sunghoon became more withdrawn and seeing him laugh became something of the past. Now, you rarely ever saw Sunghoon. The only times you were given chances to see Sunghoon was before school started and at lunchtime. You took those moments and cherished them.

You thought this year would change everything; you were assigned to sit beside Kim Sunoo, one of Park Sunghoon’s closest friends. But most of the year has passed and you haven’t said anything more than four sentences to Kim Sunoo. Darn you and your social awkwardness. Soon you’ll have to resign and admit the truth; you’re nothing more than another one of Park Sunghoon’s fangirls.

You and Seeun rush across the street and through the school’s gates hand-in-hand. Only a few minutes left until school starts and detention slips are handed out. Breathing heavily as you slow down into a walk, you glare at Seeun. “That was extremely close, See.”

Seeun rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Y/N. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

You did not get to see your loverboy that morning. You slouch in your seat that morning, pouting lightly as you drew random stars all over your textbook. You’ll always have lunchtime to stare at Sunghoon from afar and wonder what it would be like to sit next to him and listen to him laugh. Beside you, Sunoo stares out the window, sunlight washing across his face. You’ve always thought Sunoo was handsome. His visuals are sharp and fox-like, it’s no wonder he’s the most admired boy on campus behind Park Sunghoon. (He’s often referred to as the Handsome Oppa of your class.)

A chair scrapes back drawing your attention away from Sunoo. Kang Suyeon stands, her hands resting against the desk in front of her. Suyeon’s face was extremely pale and sweat dripped down the side of her face. “Excuse me, could I please go --” Suyeon couldn’t even finish her sentence because she faints and panic spreads through the classroom.

“Kim Sunoo! Kim Y/N!” The teacher gestures for you to help her lift Suyeon up. “Let’s go to the nurse’s office.” The teacher says after both of Suyeon’s arms are wrapped around your and Sunoo’s shoulders. Together, you and Sunoo struggle under Suyeon’s weight to take the fainted girl to the nurse’s office.

“Poor Suyeon,” Sunoo says gently, his eyes darting over to you, “I hope she’s okay.”

You nod slightly in response. “Me too.”

Entering the nurse’s office you freeze up -- why is Sunghoon here?

“Y/N?” Sunoo asks, looking at you questioningly. A blush spreads over your face and you stumble forward, placing Suyeon on the bed next to where another student lies, face also pale and sweating. Park Sunghoon and Sim Jaeyun stand next to the boy watching as Nurse Jeon checks whatever needs to be checked.

One look at Suyeon and Nurse Jeon glances at your teacher. “Another one?”

“What do you mean, Sooyoung?”

Nurse Jeon drags your teacher out of the office leaving you alone with Sunoo, Jaeyun, Sunghoon, and two unconscious students. Afraid to glance around the room, your eyes never leave Suyeon. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate, and she’s sweating more than she was in the classroom. You stare at her hands, the area around her cuticles was bleeding pretty badly. Suyeon must’ve been picking at her skin before she fainted.

“Did she also faint, Sunoo?” Jaeyun asks. “Joon also fainted. Fell right out of his seat.”

Sunoo nods. “Suyeon stood up to ask the teacher something, but fainted halfway through her sentence,” Sunoo glances at the doorway of the office and then leans across the bed Suyeon lay on, lowering his voice. “I heard a rumor a couple of days ago. Apparently, Suyeon’s pregnant.” Sunoo looks back at Suyeon, “that’s probably why she fainted.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Sunghoon snorts. “You don’t believe that bullshit rumor do you, Sunoo?”

“Hey!”

You hear a chuckle. Looking up, you find Sunghoon grinning as his shoulders move. He was laughing and your insides curl up. You’re finally hearing the laugh you’ve been dying to hear for years.

“You’ll be eating your words soon, Sunghoon,” Sunoo scowls. “Nurse Jeon will walk back in and check Suyeonie and say she’s pregnant. You’ll owe me ten thousand won.”

Sunghoon laughs again. You really like his laugh.

Suyeon jolts awake suddenly, shattering apart the joyful mood in the room as everyone jumps back. “Suyeon --” your voice stops sharply when Suyeon grips your wrist, her fingernails digging into your skin and you cry out. You use your other hand to try and pry off Suyeon’s hands but to no avail.

Another hand appears and helps pry off Suyeon’s hand. “Jaeyun,” Sunghoon calls out, “hold her down. You too, Sunoo.” He calls for nurse Jeon after, taking your wrist into his hand as blood trails down from where Suyeon’s nails had dug into your skin and drops onto the white bedsheet. His hand is warm. “You’re hurt.” His eyes dig into yours. You feel uncomfortable beneath Sunghoon’s gaze because it doesn’t hold the same warmth that was there when he talked to Sunoo.

“Right,” you say, your voice shaking.

Sunghoon leads you over to a chair as nurse Jeon subsides Suyeon with some sort of injection. Kneeling down in front of you, Sunghoon cleans and bandages up your wrist. Pressing lightly, he looks back up at you. “Replace the bandage with a new one tomorrow morning.”

“O-Okay.” You internally curse yourself. Why did you have to be so awkward around Sunghoon?

“Y/N,” Sunoo calls out, “it’s time for us to head back.”

Nodding your head, you scramble up out of your chair and step around Sunghoon. His touch burns your skin and your heart quickens. You pinch yourself. No. You weren’t dreaming but this certainly felt like a dream.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Suyeonie was gripping you really hard,” Sunoo asks, concern shining on his face.

You smile, your cheeks burning beneath his attention. “I’m okay Sunoo, thank you for asking.”

Sunoo beams. He really does remind you of the sun. “Seatmates care for each other!” Warmth floods your chest and your cheeks burn even more. Sunoo’s sincere words circle your mind even as you settle back down in your seat next to Sunoo.

—-

It was finally lunchtime. You watch Sunghoon from afar as he laughs with Lee Heeseung, throwing some food at the older boy. Beside you, Seeun admires the bandage Sunghoon placed on you. “Wow, this is like a relic, Y/N. I bet if you auction it off it could go for a high price. I don’t think anyone has ever been bandaged up by Sunghoon before.”

You huff and rip your wrist out of Seeun’s hands. “I forgot to say thank you to Sunghoon. I should probably go do that now because what if he thinks I’m impolite? Oh, I would never sleep at night if I knew he thought that.”

Seeun laughs. “Well, go on then, thank loverboy for bandaging you up. Gift him with a kiss while you’re at it.”

You scowl and take your eyes off Sunghoon. “Seeun, shut up.”

Seeun giggles and reaches out to pinch your cheeks. “Hey! It’s just a suggestion! And I didn’t mean on the lips, you crazy girl! The cheek would do just fine.”

You ignore Seeun and turn back around to stare at Sunghoon, only to find him gone. The table where he sits with his friends is abandoned and you slump, looking back at Seeun. “I missed my chance. Now he’s going to think I’m impolite for the rest of his life.”

Seeun laughs and rubs your back. “Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

You ignore Seeun and push the food in front of you around on your plate. “I’m doomed for eternity. He’ll probably tell Sunoo he thinks I’m impolite for not saying thank you to him and Sunoo will gossip about it and soon --”

You never get to finish your sentence because students rush into the cafeteria, terror plastered across their faces. Seconds later, you see the reason why they were terrified.

Zombies.

Zombies only ever existed in your imagination. They only ever existed in books, movies, and TV shows. Not once did you ever think you would be an active participant in a Zombie apocalypse. You couldn’t move a single muscle as you watch students around you scramble to the exit or get tackled to the ground by a hungry Zombie. Beside you, Seeun screams in terror.

The Zombies were grotesque. Their faces were mutilated; like someone had punched them over and over. Blood covered their faces, eyes were gorged out and hanging, teeth were missing, cheeks were cut open, the eyes that remained in the eyesockets were the darkest black you had ever seen, and their skin was a terrifying pale green color.

“Y/N!” Seeun screams, terrified.

You snap back into reality as the fire alarm goes off and the sprinklers turn on. You and everyone else in the cafeteria are drenched in seconds. You survey the carnage going on around you. Zombies were pouring in through every available entrance and exit. In all honesty, you believed that this would be where you would die.

Windows.

You pinpoint a window, and then a table beneath it. You could stack chairs on top of the desk. Grabbing Seeun, you both slip across the wet ground, narrowly avoiding the Zombies that were once people you knew. Seeun sobs loudly behind you, shrieking whenever a Zombie strayed too close to the both of you. Your main priority was Seeun, you needed her safe.

Reaching the window, you tell Seeun to help you push a table up against the wall. Behind you, screams of terror filled the silence. You heard snarling and bones cracking, you heard other students crying out the names of their friends dying in front of their eyes. You needed to get out. You needed to find safety -- an adult. You needed an adult.

Grabbing a chair, you climb onto the table and smash open a window. Seeun climbs onto the table next to you, her sobs now muffled by the palms of her hands. You place the chair on top of the table and step onto it peering out the window. It was safe. Far safer than the cafeteria. “You first,” you tell Seeun.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun,” you cut your friend off, gripping her tightly, “I need you safe. You’re going first.”

Seeun nods her head. “Okay. Okay. Me first.” With a shaky inhale, Seeun climbs onto the chair, grips the window pane, and pulls herself out of the cafeteria. “Your turn!” She calls out and relief floods your body. Glancing behind you, you see the carnage -- it’s a sight you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You drop down next to Seeun and grab her hand. “Let’s go to the nurse's office,” you say to Seeun. “Nurse Jeon will know what to do.” Together you both run away from the cafeteria and out into the courtyard, not expecting other places to be swarmed with Zombies -- but they were everywhere.

You begin to wonder how this was even possible -- where did the Zombie army come from? How were they able to turn that quickly? A Zombie lunges for both you and Seeun and with a quick yank, you pull the both of you away.

“Y/N!” Seeun calls out, but you ignore her. Surely Nurse Jeon is alive. She has to be. If not, maybe you and Seeun could seek refuge in the nurse’s office. You drag Seeun toward one of the entrances to the school building, but it’s immediately blocked by Zombies. You divert to another path, but come up short and terror begins to flood your body at a faster rate.

You didn’t want to die -- you couldn’t. You still had so much left to do.

But everywhere you went, there were Zombies and at every wall, Seeun sobbed louder. Anger and terror flood your veins, it blinds you, and you take Seeun down to a quieter place. Leaning against the wall, you turn to Seeun. “Seeun --”

“Y/N,” Seeun interrupts, “it’s hopeless.”

“Seeun, don’t say that,” you say, taking her other hand into yours. “I’ll look for another way in -- surely there’s a window we can climb into --”

“Y/N!” You’ve never heard Seeun scream louder. Suddenly, you’re yanked behind Seeun and watching a Zombie tackle Seeun to the ground. The world slows. There’s a loud ringing in your ears as you watch the terror occurring in front of you. Seeun’s screaming, desperately reaching for you, but you can’t hear her. You drop to your knees and crawl forward. Tears drop onto your hands. You didn’t even know you were crying. When did you start crying?

Desperately, you try to pull the Zombie off Seeun but it’s no use. You aren’t strong enough. The world is still quiet. Seeun stills beneath the Zombie, her hand falling limply to the ground. The Zombie’s eyes focus on you and you give in. This is how you die. Abruptly, there’s another hand on your shoulder that slips down to your forearm and is yanking you up onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Someone shouts right next to you. Everything slams back in focus and you finally hear everything -- you hear someone sobbing loudly but Seeun’s dead? Who is the one crying now? You touch your face. Oh, you’re the one crying.

You’re yanked forward as the Zombie pounces your way. You stumble over your feet, but the hand on your forearm keeps you steady. You focus on your savior; silver hair, long legs, and a familiar warm grip. It’s Park Sunghoon -- what was Park Sunghoon doing?

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a sob. You don’t know what is happening. One moment you were sitting in the cafeteria with Seeun, and the next you were watching her die. Your arm hangs limp in Sunghoon’s grip as he drags you through the outside of the school. Zombies and lifeless bodies litter the ground. Loud screaming and snarls fill the air and you wonder if Seeun could make it out of this alive even if you did just watch her die. Seeun can’t be dead. Sure, you saw her arm fall to the ground, but Sunghoon had pulled you away too soon.

Seeun can’t be dead. With that thought, you rip your arm out of Sunghoon’s hold causing the older boy to top in his tracks. He whirls around, eyes wide as he focuses all his attention on you. In another situation, you would be frozen beneath this kind of attention, but right now, all you want is Seeun by your side once more.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun’s not dead. I need to go back for her.” You like to think you sound more articulate and calm, but all that comes out are sobs and jumbled-up words. You watch Sunghoon’s eyes droop in sympathy. “Seeun -- she’s not -- she can’t be --”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon takes your hand. “I’m sorry. But we have to keep moving. They’re waiting for us.” He springs back into action with you following behind, sobbing even louder. You don’t even remember how you make it into the school building. Tears fill your vision and Seeun’s death is repeated in your mind. The more you watch it, the more hopelessness fills you. Seeun’s really dead. There’s no denying it anymore. Seeun’s dead and you just watched her die.

The running stops. Sunghoon bangs on a door and it slides open. You and Sunghoon step into a familiar classroom filled with unfamiliar faces. Sunghoon drops your hand and helps whoever was behind you stack the chairs back on top of the desks keeping the door shut.

Once again, ringing fills your ears and the world quietens around you. Seeun’s death is still playing in your mind. Your eyes drop down to look at your hands, and you see the blood that wasn’t there before. You wail loudly and drop to your knees, bunching up your skirt and hurriedly scrubbing off the blood from your hands. It doesn’t work. The blood won’t come off your hands and you continue to sob.

There are voices.

“...Sunghoon what the fuck….”

“....../N? Why is she here, Sunghoon? You said you were getting…..”

“......just pick up random people!”

“….is she doing? Someone stop her, Y/N……”

Hands pull your skirt away. The rubbing stops and you look up. Sunghoon’s kneeling in front of you again, his mouth poised to speak when you shriek and scramble back from Sunghoon, your butt sliding across the floor. “Don’t touch me!”

Silence rings through the room.

You finally glance around the room. Lee Heeseung. Park Jongseong. Sim Jaeyun. Nishimura Riki. Kim Sunoo. Yang Jungwon. All of Sunghoon’s friends are gathered in one room. And now you’re here. You’re here, and Seeun’s out there. Lying all alone. You’re alive and Seeun’s dead and you watched. You watched Seeun die. Hot tears stream down your face and you desperately wipe them away with the back of your hand, not caring if blood is smeared across your face.

“Y/N,” it’s Sunoo. Your sweet seatmate settles in front of you. He reaches out and guides your hand away from your face, wiping the tears himself. There’s a gentle smile on his face. “You’re safe now.”

You ignore the purposeful cough after Sunoo’s words. You can worry about safety later -- for now, you’re in a classroom that isn’t full of Zombies. “Sunoo,” your voice cracks and you lean forward, your cheek pressed to Sunoo’s chest as he wraps you into a hug. “Seeun’s dead.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Sunoo’s hand rubs your back. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a loud bang on the door and everyone in the room jumps. Sunoo squeezes you tightly, his chest not moving beneath your cheek. The silence in the room is overwhelming. Seconds pass and there’s no other bang. “Let’s get you up, Y/N, come on.” Sunoo helps you up, wiping your face with his hands again.

Sunoo helps you to a chair, and as soon as you sit down, you notice everyone in the room looking at you. Bowing your head, the tips of your ears turn red.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says and you peer at him. “Are you okay?”

Nishimura Riki snorts. “That’s a stupid question to ask, Sunghoon.”

“What else am I supposed to ask? ‘How’s your day going so far?’”

Jaeyun snorts, clearly amused but covers it up with a cough.

Sunghoon looks back at you, but you avert your eyes, opting to stare at your shoes instead. A heavy silence settles over the group. Noises that were still unfamiliar to you floated through the open window in the classroom. Goosebumps spread over your skin as you hear heavy footsteps run down the hallway. Everything happened so fast that you’re still running the events that lead up to this moment through your head.

The cafeteria. You were watching Sunghoon. Seeun was beside you. The Zombies came and you escaped out a window with Seeun.

The back exterior wall of a building. You and Seeun. Watching Seeun die. Sunghoon appears out of nowhere and drags you with him to some kind of safety.

The classroom. You’re with Sunghoon. And Sunoo. And their friends -- the friends everyone talks about. The world is muffled around you once more and your breathing grows shallow -- how are you supposed to get home? How are you supposed to look Seeun’s parents in the eye and tell her their daughter is dead and you watched.

“Y/N?” Sunoo’s gentle fingers brush hair behind your ear. He looks concerned as he holds your chin between his fingers. “Hey, it’s okay.” It’s not okay -- you don’t think it will ever be okay because Seeun’s gone. Your best friend is gone. And you hate how her death is the only thing you can see whenever you close your eyes.

You tune back into the conversation happening beside you. Jongseong sounds exasperated. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow. We have no plan, Heeseung. And Sunghoon decided to add one more person to our party of seven.” Jongseong sounds more than exasperated, he sounds resentful. You curl into yourself even more because it wasn’t like you asked to join Sunghoon, he was the one who pulled you away from your death sentence.

“Having Y/N doesn’t mean the end of the world, Jongseong,” Jaeyun says, sighing after his sentence. “Since Sunghoon brought her here, she’s his burden.”

Burden. That’s all you were to these seven boys. A burden. And no one wants to bear the burden.

Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your school cardigan and stand up. The chair scrapes against the ground and all attention is pulled to you once again. You stalk over to the corner of the classroom and slide down the wall, curling up into a ball, and pressing your face against your legs desperate to sleep because when you wake up, hopefully, you’ll be back in your seat beside Sunoo with the sun shining on your face and Seeun’s familiar giggles floating through the classroom.

—-

It’s night when you pull your face away from your legs. It’s gotten oddly quieter, the only noises are from the Zombies. Looking out into the darkened classroom, you find Jaeyun, Riki, Heeseung, and Sunoo playing a card game, using the light from the lamp outside the classroom as a way to see.

Someone drops down beside you. Park Sunghoon. He holds out half a slice of Tiramisu wordlessly. He holds the other half. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until it was in your mouth. Instantly, you’re savoring the flavor and your taste buds are begging for more.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low.

You shrug. You didn’t know the answer to that question because you were feeling so much that it felt like nothing. Turning your head slightly you stare at Sunghoon, his silver hair standing out in the dark classroom. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as perfect as Park Sunghoon. It was like his existence was written in the stars because no one has ever shone as brightly as he has. Sunghoon has everything anyone’s ever wanted.

“I’m sorry about Seeun,” Sunghoon says again, his eyes meeting yours.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your finger tracing shapes on the dirty ground beneath you. Sunghoon’s uniform looks perfect like he had just put it on. His shoes, though, give it all away. They’re bloody, just like your skirt and your hands. “Can I call my mom?” You hate how your voice trembles. “I miss her. I want to hear her voice.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon glances over to his friends playing cards in the lamplight. “We don’t have any phones with us, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Your eyes burn again and you blink them away. You’re starting to grow sick of crying. “Do we know anything about this situation at all?”

Sunghoon shakes his head and his knee bumps yours. You feel the familiar warmth you felt back in the nurse’s office when Sunghoon bandaged you up.

The Nurse’s office.

“Sunghoon,” you start tentatively, his name rolling out of your mouth awkwardly. “What about Suyeon and Joon?”

Sunghoon looks at you confused.

“This morning. They both fainted and looked really pale and were sweating lots and what if they’re patient zero and one and --” Your heartbeat increases with each word you say, and it peaks as Sunghoon interrupts your sentence by grabbing your arm and peeling off your bandage.

Where there were four bloody scratches before, there was now nothing. It was as if you had never been scratched.

Your heart stills and you look up at Sunghoon who was already looking at you. “Sunghoon, I --”

A loud thud interrupts you. And another. And another. The silence in the classroom is loud. Sunghoon’s hand tightens around your wrist. Terror seeps through your blood and you adjust your position on the floor to be closer to Sunghoon.

Then, it happens all too fast; the window on the door to the classroom is smashed open and somehow, all the chairs stacked up on the table in front of the door go tumbling down onto the ground revealing a young boy. The snarling of the Zombies grows louder and the young boy, bleeding and terrified, pulls himself through the broken window of the door.

“Taki?” Nishimura Riki knows the boy. He’s looking at the unfamiliar boy with excitement, relief, and apprehension.

Turning around, the boy smiles when he spots Riki. “Riki! Hey!” He holds up his hand and waves and that’s when you, and everyone else see it. A bite. His hand is bloody and there, clear as daylight, is a bite.

Sunghoon’s hand is firmer around your wrist when he pulls you up off the ground. You keep your eyes on the scene unfolding in front of you -- Taki waving enthusiastically with a wide smile while Riki regards him in disbelief which turns into sadness.

“Taki,” Riki starts softly as Sunghoon leads you over to the rest of the group. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Riki!” Taki replies, still cheerful as ever.

The groans and snarls of Zombies grow even closer.

“Taki,” Riki says again, his voice still soft and eyes shining in the dark.

“Yeah?”

The first tear falls down Riki’s cheek. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“You’re mine too!” That’s when you notice it: Taki’s skin is beginning to turn green. Beside you, Heeseung and Jongseong exchange words in a low mumble.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, “his skin. Look.”

“Y/N,” you look up at Sunghoon, his eyes rake over your face and even though you’re in the middle of imminent death, you feel warm. “Stick close.” His fingers brush over your wrist and somehow your stomach is still able to produce butterflies.

Heeseung walks closer to where Riki and Taki stand and lays a hand on Riki’s shoulder. “Riki,” Heeseung speaks, “we can’t stay here.” Behind you, a window clicks open. The tension in the room rises and you begin to feel unsettled. The groans of the Zombies are closer than ever.

“Heeseung --”

“Riki. We have to go.” Heeseung’s voice is hard and you see his hand digging into Riki’s shoulders.

“But Taki --”

“We can’t save him, Riki.”

There’s a loud snarl and that’s when you see it. One of the many Zombies crowding the door’s broken window. Flashes of Seeun’s death run through your mind and you can’t breathe. This feels all too scary and you want to escape. You want to go home. You want to be walking to school with Seeun again. You want to be fourteen and see Park Sunghoon laugh for the first time again.

“Riki? What’s going on?” Taki is confused. He doesn’t realize his skin is turning a light shade of green. He doesn’t notice the black liquid pouring out of his eyes. He doesn’t realize how black his eyes are turning. Taki steps closer as Riki and Heeseung step back.

“Taki,” Riki’s sob is heartbreaking. You hate this, you hate watching Riki have to come to terms with the fact his friend is turning into a Zombie. “You’ve been bitten.” Riki’s voice is thick as he speaks through the tears pouring down his face.

“What? No I’m not. Why are you saying these things, Riki?”

Behind you there’s movement. Glancing over your shoulder you find Yang Jungwon climbing out the window and slipping into the night.

There’s another thud and you find Taki on the ground with Heeseung gripping Riki tightly as the younger sobs loudly, adding more noise to snarling and groaning coming from the Zombies pressed up against the locked door.

In the next second, Taki is rising up from the floor and launching himself at Heeseung and Riki. Riki’s thrown out of the way and Heeseung tackles Taki down onto the floor. It’s like the Zombies are excited with the way they throw themselves at the door, eager to enter the room and take down the seven occupying the room.

There’s a flurry of movement behind you and you watch as Jongseong ushers Sunoo out the window. “You have to be careful, Sunoo,” Jongseong warns the boy, “one wrong move and you’re dead.”

Sunoo snorts. “That’s assuring, thanks, Jongseong.” And Sunoo’s gone, slipping into the night the same way Jungwon did. Suddenly, you’re being ushered forward, Jongseong’s sharp eyes slipping to you and immediate disdain creeps over his face.

“Y/N next,” Sunghoon demands from behind you.

“Sung--”

“She’s next.” Sunghoon’s voice leaves no room for argument and Jongseong huffs. You wonder how they both could be so calm in a situation like this. Behind you, you hear Heeseung grunt and Taki, the newly turned Zombie, growl. Riki’s sobs are loud and Jaeyun’s calming words aren’t doing anything to subdue the younger.

“What do I do?” You ask hesitantly, your voice quiet under Jongseong’s gaze.

“Climb out of the window and across to the broadcasting club’s room.”

Sunghoon’s hand slips from your wrist as Jongseong pulls you harshly towards the desk in front of the window. You look at him expectantly. “What?” Jongseong asks, “do you want to die?” You steal a glance at the horde of Zombies still pushing up against the door, their arms reaching through the window. You look at Heeseung, his school uniform getting torn beneath Taki’s needy hands, Jaeyun and Riki on the ground, and Sunghoon, who is behind you frowning.

When you look back at Jongseong, there’s shock hidden in his eyes. You wonder how he was able to figure out what you were thinking. You seriously wouldn’t mind dying right now. Jongseong’s reaching out and pulling you closer to him. You’ve never been this close to him. He looks extremely handsome.

“You’re not dying Y/N,” he whispers harshly, it’s hard to hear him over the noise echoing throughout the classroom. “And if you do die, it’ll be my own hands.” You never do get to ask Jongseong what he means because he’s pushing you towards the window and forcing you out. “Hold on, Y/N, and don’t look down. You’ll know when you’re at the broadcasting room because Jungwon will be waiting for you.”

The coldness of the night seeps through your school uniform. It does nothing to make the sweat on your hands evaporate, though. The ledge is not wide enough for a school kid to be inching their way across the outside of the school building. There’s little to nothing for your hands to grab onto and you don’t heed Jongseong’s advice. Looking down was your greatest mistake.

You’re so far up, and everywhere you look there’s a Zombie walking. One wrong step and you’re dead. You’re dead, and you won’t ever see Sunghoon again. One wrong step, and you’ll see Seeun again. Pushing yourself against the cool wall, you squeeze your eyes shut as tears form again. You didn’t want to be here in this situation. How did this all even happen? How did people you know turn into bloodthirsty monsters?

Opening your eyes, you see what Jongseong had meant when he told you Jungwon would be waiting for you. Light floods through an open window and there Yang Jungwon was, with fiery red hair, peering at you as he leans out of the window.

You don’t know much about Yang Jungwon; you just know the basics. He’s class president and head of the taekwondo club. He’s very good friends with Kang Taehyun and he works at a cat cafe. He’s also Park Sunghoon’s neighbor.

You inch your way over to the broadcasting club’s room, your hands sweatier than they’ve ever been. The horror that lay beneath you kept your heart rate beating at a rapid speed and kept terror streaming through your bloodstream.

Jungwon helps you into the broadcasting room, it’s much nicer in here and you spy a few water bottles resting on the desk. Instantly, you’re reminded of how thirsty you are. “Can we drink that?” You ask, making eye contact with Sunoo who spins around on a chair, his fingers fidgeting with whatever was in his lap.

“Go for it,” Sunoo says, “I think there’s enough for the eight of us.”

Riki is the next to join the three of you with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Sunoo, with pitying eyes, hands Riki a tissue box and gently cards a hand through the younger boy’s hair. Riki instantly melts into Sunoo’s touch and you feel your heart tugging in despair for the boy.

Jaeyun follows after Riki also looking incredibly disheveled. He converses with Jungwon in a low voice and you begin to grow restless waiting for the remaining three boys. It hasn’t even been a full day and you’re already exhausted. You’re ready for this to all be some kind of fucked up prank because you can’t take this anymore. You want to survive to see your mom again, but you’re already tired that the thought of giving yourself to the Zombies doesn’t scare you as much anymore.

Jongseong is the next to join. He doesn’t look happy, “they forced me to go. The door is about to break down and Taki’s only just been restrained --” There’s a loud cry, silence, and then a bone-shattering thud. You, along with the five boys, crowd the window and look out into the dead night. Someone’s lying on the pavement, their limbs bent in awkward angles and your breath catches.

Riki’s the first to turn away, Jaeyun following after. Sunoo’s hand snakes around your elbow and pulls you away from the window. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go sit and wait.” You could hear the desperation in Sunoo’s voice so you comply, also desperate for some sort of distraction from the fear telling you that body was Sunghoon.

“Sunoo,” you say in a hushed voice, your knees pulled up to your chest, “I was talking to Sunghoon before. We know nothing about what’s going on but what if Suyeon and Joon were the ones who started it? Think about it, Sunoo.” You were desperate to have some kind of answer because maybe then you could figure out a way to end this all, to bring everyone infected back.

Sunoo stares at you, his face morphing through many emotions. That was one thing you always loved about Sunoo, he was always transparent about how he felt. “Y/N,” Sunoo says in amazement, “oh my god. Suyeonie. She was pale, but I thought she looked kind of green, and Joon -- they were both sweating a lot and then --” his eyes drop to your wrist that was no longer bandaged.

“Y/N,” you immediately hide your wrist from Sunoo. “Y/N, Suyeon made you bleed.” His eyes meet yours and you see the fear.

“Sunoo --”

“Heeseung!” Jungwon exclaims, hurriedly pulling the oldest through the window. Seconds later, Sunghoon also lands in the broadcasting room and his eyes immediately seek you out. His and Heeseung’s uniforms were in tatters. There were big gaping holes in their blazers and buttons missing, blood covering their pants and white blouses, and their ties had been ripped off.

“Are you okay, Heeseung? Sunghoon?” Jaeyun asks, “you aren’t hurt?”

Behind them, Jongseong slams the window shut quite loudly, and follows it up with a loud shout of “fuck!” The response from the Zombies is almost instant -- they begin to snarl and groan, moving in the direction of the window that had just been shut.

Of course -- no one pays attention to that response except for Jaeyun who furrows his eyebrows.

Jungwon hands Jongseong the last water bottle full of water. “This is all we have,” Jungwon speaks gently, “we’ll need to venture out tomorrow to find supplies. We can’t stay in here forever.”

“There was plenty of food in that classroom,” Sunoo says forlornly. “Everyone’s bags had secret snacks for nighttime studying.”

“We also need a phone,” Sunghoon speaks up, “some form of communication. We’re in the dark, we have no clue what’s going on, and,” Sunghoon cuts himself off, sighing deeply, “there may be. .Infections beyond the school.”

Everyone inhales sharply, their worst fear coming true.

Jongseong slumps down in defeat, hanging his head. “Jungwon’s right. We can’t stay here forever. We have to leave and try and reach somewhere safe, like a quarantine camp. But first, we need a phone.”

“The only information I know is that Suyeon and Joon may have started the outbreak at school, but how they got it themselves is still a mystery,” Sunghoon continues, his eyes holding yours.

“How do you know that, Hoon?” Heeseung asks, resting beside Jongseong.

“Because when they were in the infirmary they were acting weird,” Sunghoon says, “before Joon knocked himself out, he was moving weirdly and always trying to bite Jaeyun and I. I don’t know much about Suyeon, but I know when she woke up, she grabbed onto Y/N and made her bleed.”

All attention is directed back to you again.

“I bandaged her up, the scratches were pretty bad. Before Taki came, I checked her wrist. The scratches aren’t there anymore. It’s almost like she wasn’t scratched.”

The silence is too loud.

“Suyeon’s fingers were bleeding,” Sunoo says in a hushed voice, “when she scratched Y/N, her blood must’ve come into contact with Y/N’s.”

“So, Y/N’s a Zombie,” Riki says.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by the accusation. “No. I’m not.”

“We don’t know that Y/N,” Jongseong backs up Riki. Of course he does. “You could be some weird evolved Zombie for all we know.”

You scowl, hot anger surging through your veins suddenly. You don’t know where the change in mood came from. “If I were a Zombie, you’d be dead already, Jongseong.”

Jongseong scoffs. “You wouldn’t even be able to land a single finger on me. I’d take you down before you even get the chance to bite me. You’re weak compared to me, Y/N.”

All you see is red. It’s like you don’t have control of your own mind as you lunge for Jongseong ready to prove him wrong. Before you could even touch the boy, an arm wraps around your waist and holds you back. You struggle in the person’s arms, and you spit at the ground in front of Jongseong. “I’ll kill you,” your mouth is moving without your consent and spitting out words you don’t want to say. “I’ll fucking kill you.” With one last struggle, you’re pushing arms holding you back from Jongseong off you. The next thing you hear is a loud thud and a groan.

Glancing over your shoulder you see Sunghoon crumpled up on the ground, the locker that stood behind him was caved in, marking how he was flung into the metal. You stop breathing and register the silence and eyes staring at you in terror.

“I think Jongseong’s right,” Jungwon speaks up. “We can��t trust you, Y/N.”

“I’m not a Zombie,” your hands clench, fingernails pressing into your palm. “I don’t even know how I did that!”

“We can’t trust you,” Jungwon repeats. “But I don’t think we should be pushing you out to be with the Zombies,” he gestures to the recording booth. “Go in there.”

“You want me in the recording booth?”

“Just until morning. If by morning, you haven’t changed or done something weird, we’ll let you out, but, if something happens overnight, we’re leaving you here for good.” Jungwon’s tone sounds final and you can’t find it in you to rebut his idea because, if you think about it logically, it’s what’s best for both you and the seven boys.

Entering the recording room with Jungwon locking you in, it grows deathly quiet. You’re alone with your thoughts for the first time today and you don’t know what to do.

—-

“Y/N.” You don’t know how much time has passed when Sunghoon steps into the recording room. Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice and immediately you’re spewing your apologies. You didn’t mean to throw Sunghoon into the lockers. You hope he’s not too injured, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you had hurt Sunghoon unintentionally.

Something of a smile appears on Sunghoon’s face as he sits in front of you. “It’s okay, Y/N, I know you didn’t mean to push me that hard.” His hand reaches for your wrist and you let him take it, his fingertips gently tracing the patch of skin that was once covered by scratches.

“Sunghoon?” You ask, not raising your voice above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared?”

It’s silent for a moment. The moonlight washes over Sunghoon’s face and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone this badly before. “Of you? Never,” came Sunghoon’s response, and your body burns. It burns so intensely you can’t breathe.

“Oh. I was asking if you were scared of the situation. Not me.”

Sunghoon looks up at you, his hand slipping from your wrist to hold your hand. “Oh. I meant what I said, Y/N. You don’t scare me.”

You smile softly. You don’t know how, but being with Sunghoon like this brings some sense of comfort to you. “Oh. Thank you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon smiles softly. It’s the first real smile you’ve seen on his face since this whole Zombie situation began. Warmth settles in your stomach and your shoulders sag, the weight you were carrying around slides off. “Are you okay, Y/N? How are you feeling?”

You snort lightly. ”That’s like the third time you’ve asked me if I was okay.”

“I ask because I care, Y/N.”

“Oh. Sunghoon, I--” you stare at Sunghoon, unblinking. Your stomach feels weird. It’s way too loud in the recording booth and you want out. You slip your hand out of Sunghoon’s and push your face into your legs. Did Sunghoon know about your feelings? Or was he being honest? You couldn’t believe that you were at the beginning of a Zombie apocalypse and still thinking about Sunghoon and how much you liked him.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sounding hesitant.

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Okay.” Awkward tension floats through the room. You don’t make any move to disperse the awkwardness and instead, you let it simmer.

“Right, I came in here because Sunoo told us the debate team was supposed to go on their annual school trip tomorrow, but obviously that isn’t going to happen, but in the classroom where they meet up, there’s a cupboard full of food and some water,” Sunghoon tells you and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk this hesitantly before.

You look back up at Sunghoon and instantly regret it because he’s so beautiful. “Oh. Okay. Do you have a plan yet? Am I even included in that plan? Because I can leave you all alone if you want. It might be easier since I’m probably a burden to you.”

Sunghoon stares at you. He stares at you for a long time that it becomes uncomfortable. “Do you think you’re a burden, Y/N?”

You shrug half-heartedly. “It’s easy to tell when I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted, Y/N,” Sunghoon says intently, his eyes never drifting away from yours.

You don’t say anything in response. How could that be true? It’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way the boys regard you, it’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way Jongseong talks to you, and it’s clear to see you’re a burden when you heard Jaeyun’s words.

“Y/N. .” Sunghoon says softly. You’ve never heard him speak like that before. It’s gentle like he’s coaxing a cat from underneath a car. It’s a comforting voice, one that makes you want to dive into and soak forever in. “You’re wanted.”

You scoff and look away, your heart tremors beneath your ribcage. Butterflies bloom and stick themselves to your gut. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

There’s a pause.

“Because I --” Sunghoon falters. His eyes slide away from your face and you feel your heart burn. “You should get some sleep, Y/N.”

“Right. Of course. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

You don’t get any sleep that night.

—-

You’re allowed out of the recording booth when you wake up. You’re still regarded with caution, but you don’t care, you’re just glad to be out of the room. Sitting on the floor next to Sunoo, you listen to the conversation happening around you. They’re discussing a way to get to the debate room without alerting any Zombies to their presence.

“I have useful information if anyone wants to hear it,” Jaeyun says, raising his hand.

“What is it, Jaeyun?” Heeseung asks. “We’ll take anything at this point.”

“I think I know how to get past the Zombies.”

Everyone leans in and listens eagerly. “Sound attracts Zombies,” Jaeyun starts to explain. “And we’re in the broadcasting room. This is where the morning school announcements are made which means there are speakers all over school connected to this exact room. So, if we play a song, all the Zombies will move to wherever that sound is coming from. It’ll give us a clear path to the debate room.”

“I love it when you speak like that, Jaeyun,” Sunghoon comments, wearing a teasing smile. Seems like someone got a goodnight's sleep, you think bitterly to yourself. You were so sure Sunghoon was going to say something last night that was going to completely change your relationship. You were proven wrong, though.

“Someone needs to stay back though, right?” Riki asks, “because who will turn off the music?”

“I’m sure we can keep it going until it stops,” Sunoo pipes up.

“Yeah, but how will it stop?” Riki presses, “there’s no timer. It would keep on playing and we’d all go crazy.”

“I don’t think any of us should separate from the group,” Jungwon says firmly. “Separation is the last thing we want to do now.”

“What song should we play?” You ask, “because I suggest Red Velvet. Playing Zimzalabim would be so funny.”

Beside you, Sunoo giggles.

“I was gonna suggest Ring Ding Dong by SHINee,” Riki says, a wicked grin appearing.

“We’re immediately vetoing that idea,” Jongseong says, scowling in Riki’s direction.

“What about classical music?” Sunghoon asks, “that shit doesn’t get too repetitive, right? It’s just a bunch of instruments playing over and over again. No lyrics, just vibes.”

“No lyrics, just vibes,” Jongseong mimics and Sunghoon whacks him in retaliation.

“Let’s try to find some music, surely they have some in here,” Jaeyun says, standing up.

“First, I need to use the toilet,” Riki announces. “Should I pee out the window?” Riki earns disgusted groans in return and a small giggle from you.

“No. No peeing out of windows,” Jongseong says firmly. “We may be in an apocalypse but that doesn’t mean we don’t do our best to remain hygienic. We need to set up some kind of toilet, maybe in the recording booth? We’re not going to use it anymore, right?”

“I sure hope not,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest. “Because there’s no way I’m going back in there under suspicion with it smelling like shit and piss.”

“The recording booth it is,” Jungwon says, “I did boy scouts when I was younger, let me build the toilet.”

“Me too!” Sunoo pipes up, eagerly pushing himself off the ground, “I was your group leader, remember Wonie?”

Jungwon’s smile is fond as he remembers his past memories, and together he and Sunoo begin to build the make-shift toilet. All around you, everyone falls into conversation to pass the time leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You begin to wonder how hard you had pushed Sunghoon to make a dent in the metal lockers to the left of you. In fact, you’re 100% certain you aren’t even that strong. You’re pretty weak so for you to be able to make a permanent mark on metal terrifies and oddly intrigues you -- what more can you do? Surely the small bit of blood on Suyeon’s that infected your bloodstream carries some kind of weird mutation causing you to be this way -- you hope you get answers soon because all this uncertainty is driving you insane.

“Get a good sleep, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sitting down in front of you.

“Yeah. You?”

Sunghoon hums. “The best I could get.” There’s a lull in the conversation. You immediately think back to earlier in the recording booth -- you were so sure Sunghoon was going to confess, or something because the way he was looking at you, and the way he was phrasing his words, made you believe. It made you find hope in this bleak apocalypse. “How are you feeling?”

You give Sunghoon a deadpan look. “This question? Again?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I think it’s warranted in a situation like this.”

You smile softly. “Yeah. I suppose. And I’m feeling a bit nervous because we don’t know what’s out there. I hope Jaeyun’s right. I hope this plan works. I hope --” you sigh heavily, your chin resting on your knee.

Sunghoon reaches forward and takes your hand into his. “We’ll make it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” Jungwon and Sunoo step out of the recording booth. “Who is first?”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says loudly, “ladies first. People who need to shit go last.”

“Riki, you’re going last then!”

“Shut the fuck up Sunoo.”

It took quite a while for all seven boys to use the toilet. After numerous rock-paper-scissor games and fights, Heeseung left the recording booth with the nastiest look on his face. “When we make it to a safety zone you all better sleep with one eye open.”

“Even me?” You ask, pouting.

“They’ll call me Misogynist Heeseung.”

“Alright, Misogynist Heeseung, do the honors,” Jaeyun gestures to the booth, “go back in there and turn on the music.”

Heeseung hisses at Jaeyun and turns on his heel, taking a deep breath before entering the recording booth once more and turning on the classical music you’d found in one of the dented lockers. With the first note of Four Seasons playing, the school speakers become a target for the Zombies limping through the school grounds.

You, along with the others, watch out the window in awe. Jaeyun was right, Zombies are attracted to sound.

“It’s showtime,” Jongseong rolls his shoulders back and rolls his sleeves up. “I will do anything to make it to the room of treasures even if it means leaving you weaklings behind.”

It’s silent. Overwhelmingly silent.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Yeah,” Riki hums, “we all know you’d be the first to die.”

“We’re running out of time, let’s go already,” groans Sunoo heading over to the door. “I’m opening up this damn door and running all the way to the debate room. I am about to eat Y/N/’s hair.”

You touch your hair, frowning. “Why my hair? Why not Jaeyun’s?”

Sunoo shrugs. “First name that came to mind was yours. Okay, opening the door in 3. . 2. . 1 --”

“-- WAIT --”

Sunoo wrenches open the door.

Nothing happens.

There’s a pause in the music. And then it starts all over again.

The look Sunoo gives the rest of the group is one of pure jubilation. “Last one to the debate room is Zombie bait for our next mission!” And then he’s flying out the door, Jaeyun and Jongseong shouting after him.

“Do they think the music will drown out the noise they’re making?” Jungwon asks with a shake of his head. “Stupid. Idiots. All of them are.” He steps out the door, Heeseung following behind. Sunghoon reaches for your hand and smiles down at you. Behind you, Riki groans, “keep the heart eyes to a minimum around me, please.”

“Let’s go, Y/N.”

Stepping out, you stare around you in amazement. Zombies are desperately trying to reach for the speaker, climbing and standing on top of each other to try and satiate their hunger. At the end of the hallway stood the rest of the ground. Jaeyun was holding Sunoo by his collar.

“We have to climb up two flights of stairs,” Jungwon explains quietly, but loud enough for you to all hear over the music. “Be aware of your surroundings. There might be a few Zombies who haven’t gone towards the speakers.” With one final shared look, you begin your long ascent to the room full of food and water.

You were nearing the end. Sunghoon’s hand was tightly gripping yours and you could see your final destination in sight. You realized you truly had nothing to worry about because Jaeyun’s plan was foolproof --

And then you’re being yanked back by your hair.

With a loud shriek, you go flying backward, your hand losing Sunghoon’s. Pain explodes as you land on your back harshly. Standing above you with their hand still curled in your hair is Joon. The boy from the nurse’s office. His face is bloody and there’s a long cut down the middle of his face, the sight of it makes you retch. His eyes are the darkest black you’ve ever seen.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, desperate to get away. Your stomach churns and you wonder why Joon specifically targeted you, and how Joon was still a functioning human. Reaching up, you try to pry Joon’s hands away from your hair, but he was too strong.

Snarling, the older boy yanks your head back harder, a harsh pulsing pain beats rapidly against your skull. Is this how you die?

“Joon?” Jake sounds astonished. “You’re alive?”

You had no clue what was going on. Fear creeps into your bloodline and sets your heart alight. You struggle in Joon’s grasp and cry out, a sob wrenching itself free from your throat. Maybe you didn’t want to die. Maybe you wanted to survive because there was still some hope deep within you that everything will be okay if you make it out of this alive. (Maybe you were feeling this hope because of Park Sunghoon.)

“Of course I’m alive, idiot,” sneers Joon, his hand tightening in your hair. “Why would they kill patient zero?”

You reach up and claw at Joon’s arm, your nails snagging his skin, cutting the boy open and he begins to bleed. “You’re such a bitch, Y/N,” Joon growls, his other hand wrapping around your neck and dragging you up from the ground, your breath hitching as you struggle to breathe.

“Let Y/N go, Joon,” Sunghoon demands, his eyes only focused on you. You feel pathetic, you’re unable to do anything -- you can’t even breathe. Maybe it would’ve been better if they left you in the broadcasting room.

“Why should I let her go?” Joon’s voice was close to your ear. You could practically taste the black blood spilling out of his mouth and onto your clothed shoulder. “She’s just like me. She’s another Zombie and you’re willingly keeping her in your group?”

“Zombie or not, let go of Y/N,” Sunghoon says, his voice low, and his eyes finally looking at Joon. He steps forward and then takes another step, and another, and another -- and then Joon snarls. It’s not loud enough to be heard over the music pouring out of the speakers, and yet, all the Zombies turn and focus their deadly black eyes on the group of seven boys, with Sunghoon in the front.

Terror floods your veins and you struggle in Joon’s grasp. You couldn’t let more people fall victim to Zombies because of you. With all eyes focused on the seven boys, a chill creeps up your spine. “One move,” Joon begins, his voice threateningly low, “and you’ll join them.”

Joon lets go of you and you instantly gasp for air, your chest heaving in delight. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Joon says, a hand reaching out to grip the back of your blouse. “Y/N’s a Zombie. The moment Suyeon’s blood entered her bloodstream, Y/N began to turn.”

“We locked her in the recording booth for a night,” Jungwon says, his eyes carefully passing over every Zombie looking at them with hungry black eyes, “nothing happened. Nothing changed.”

Joon laughs. It’s loud, but the Zombies don’t move. “But something did happen, didn’t it, Y/N?” He yanks you back towards him and you shriek, desperation filling your veins again. “What happened, Y/N?” His fingers curl through your hair, brushing it away from your face gently.

“I -- I pushed Sunghoon.” You struggle to speak, fear hindering your every move, and every word. “And he dented the lockers in the broadcasting room.”

Joon hums. “That’s an oddly inhumane amount of strength, don’t you think?”

“Please let me go,” you beg.

“Do you believe me now?” Joon asks, ignoring your begging.

“Y/N’s not a zombie,” Sunghoon says, and it sounds like he truly believes it.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, crestfallen.

“Fine, I’ll make you believe.” Without warning, Joon’s hands settle on your chest and rip your blouse apart, your eyes widen and immediately your arms come up to cover your bare torso. One hand wraps around your neck while the other produces a knife. It’s one from the kitchen in the cafeteria and you’re paralyzed by fear.

“Watch me,” Joon growls, “or I’ll kill Y/N.”

Seven sets of eyes settle on your bare body and if this was any other circumstance you would blush. You look at Sunghoon again and it’s hard to make out what he’s feeling as he stares back at you. You want to say something to him, you want to comfort him, you want to tell him to run and leave you here, but you don’t. You feel the cool touch of a blade against your abdomen, settled just beneath your bra, and then you’re being cut open, the blade digging into your skin and you cry out.

A long line is cut into your abdomen and blood flows out of the cut. It’s dark red and it matches the blood already on your hands. You collapse to the ground once Joon lets go of you and you continue to cry, the pain overwhelming. You push your hands against the wound to stop the bleeding but to no avail.

You were dying and no one was helping you. It was a picture-perfect scenario because you did nothing to help Seeun. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And then, little by little, the pain lessens. Little by little, you stop bleeding. Little by little, the cut on your abdomen heals itself.

Grabbing you roughly by the hair, Joon forces you up and your hands away from your now-healed cut. “Do you believe me now?”

You look over at Sunghoon. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly ajar. You don’t dare look at anyone else. For the final time, Joon lets go of you and you collapse back onto the ground. Your head pounds and your upper body feels overwhelmingly hot. “I’ll be back,” Joon warns. “This is only a warning.” He snarls again, and every Zombie in the hallway trails after him, their black beady eyes never leaving the group of seven boys.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says, darting forward. He rushes to your side, crouching down in front of you and reaching out. You quickly back away, tears pouring down your cheeks as you keep your head down and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Leave me alone Sunghoon,” you say, your voice thick with tears. “I’m a Zombie, don’t you understand?”

“Y/N, look at me,” Sunghoon says softly, he takes off his blazer and covers you with it. “Zombie or not I still want you with me.” Hesitatingly, he reaches out to brush strands of hair behind your ear. He then cups your cheek and his thumb brushes your cheek. “Come on, Y/N, I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, for brains,” you mutter under your breath, angry at the world. Looking back up, you see Sunghoon smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You feel shy beneath Sunghoon’s gaze.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Sunghoon answers, “Jongeong’s brain can be the first to get eaten.”

—-

You reach the classroom that holds all of the debate club’s food and water for the trip they were supposed to take today. Your eyes stare at the food stacked up, and the water lying on the ground. You felt like you were in heaven.

Jaeyun’s the first to move. He darts forward, swipes the Home Run Balls, and the rest follow, squabbling over who gets what. Sunghoon nudges you. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, hugging Sunghoon’s blazer tighter around you

Sunghoon smiles and steps into the cupboard. A few seconds later he reappears with a chocolate bar and water. “Here, you’ll probably need a lot of water after what happened, Y/N. And chocolate just because everyone loves chocolate.” After handing you the water and chocolate bar, Sunghoon takes some snacks for himself and leads you over to some chairs.

You both eat silently, letting the loud yet quiet voices of the others fill up the silence. You didn’t know what to say -- what were you supposed to say after a situation like that? You feel Sunghoon’s shoulder brush your’s and you instantly become aware of how close he is.

“Sunghoon?” You ask hesitantly.

Sunghoon glances over at you, humming slightly. His stare pins you to your seat. He still looks beautiful, you think to yourself, like a star. He still looks like he was hand crafted from heaven above, and he still looks so out of your league. No matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the situation, the answer will always be the same; Sunghoon will never be yours. He’s destined for things bigger than your small village, and he’s destined for someone better than you. And yet --

And yet he’s sitting next to you.

And yet his school-issued blazer is wrapped around your body.

(You remember bringing Park Sunghoon up to your mother one night. She laughs and shakes her head, finishing dishing the takeaway chicken she bought after work onto your plate. “Park Sunghoon, that boy is destined to be a star, Y/N.”

He’s out of your league is unsaid. You’re no good for him is unsaid.

“There’s no point loving someone like that, Y/N,” your mother warns gently. “He’s a star. And you know how bright they shine.”)

If this is how a star shines, you think, eyes trailing over Sunghoon, then I want him in every way possible.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling slightly.

“For what?”

You shrug and glance away from Sunghoon.

“Ah,” Sunghoon can read between the lines. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. “I’d do it again, Y/N.”

“Sunghoon?” You turn back to him. “You’d do what again?”

Sunghoon’s ears burn red. “Don’t make me say it, Y/N.”

You grip Sunghoon’s hand tightly. You don’t want to let this moment slip away like last time in the darkness of the broadcasting club’s recording booth. “Sunghoon,” you say, your eyes hold the unspoken desperation.

There’s a scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then Jongseong’s voice echoes through the room. No, you think, no, no no, this can’t be happening.

The moment is over. Sunghoon’s hand falls from your grip and you watch him slip away from you for the second time. You reach after him, but you capture nothingness.

“We need a phone,” Jongseong says, “and we need it now.”

The music flowing through the speakers shut off. An unsettling chill lingers in the room and everyone’s thinking the same thing; Joon. “We need a phone,” Jongseong repeats, “any ideas?”

Looks are shared and nothing is said. Jongseong groans, “come on. Give me something to work with here!”

“My phone,” Riki says, “it’s in Mrs. Jang’s room.”

Jaeyun snorts in amusement. “Now how did that happen, Riki?”

Riki scowls. “Apparently learning English is more important than Alice in Borderland.”

“Okay, and how far away is Mrs. Jang’s room?” Jongseong asks, looking slightly more alive ever since Riki’s announcement.

“Since we’re in the debate club’s meeting room,” Sunoo thinks aloud, “the floor beneath us.”

Jongseong looks at Riki and scowls. “And you didn’t let us know any sooner? We literally walked past her room on the way here, Riki! And Joon is probably there waiting for us!”

“No one asked,” Riki answered, “so I didn’t provide.”

“You’re going to be the reason for my death, mark my words.” Jongseong’s eyes fall on you and you feel uncomfortable. “Y/N. Joon can somehow command the Zombies to do whatever he wants, can’t you do that? Y’know, considering you’re like, half Zombie-half human or some shit like that.”

It’s a weird silence you sit in after Jongseong’s remark. “I mean. . It’s cool if you can’t though,” Jongseong chuckles awkwardly. You find you quite like this situation; Jongseong awkward beneath your bland stare, it’s a situation that should happen more often.

“Speaking of,” Heeseung pipes up, “shouldn’t we talk about what happened back there?”

“What is there to speak about?” Jungwon asks, “Y/N is a Zombie. But she’s also a human.”

“Clearly,” Heeseung responds, “we should also find Y/N a shirt, but what about Joon? How he came to be. . . That, is unknown and what he said? ‘Patient zero’? Isn’t that at least a little bit concerning?”

“Obviously Joon and Suyeon were some experiment,” Sunoo says, “gone wrong. And now everyone is paying the consequence.”

“Someone was probably trying to make a superhuman,” Jaeyun jokes, his eyes sparkling, “Y/N and Joon have enhanced strength, which is super cool, and Y/N even has enhanced healing! I would suspect Joon does too, but from his appearance. . I don’t think so.”

“Superhuman,” Jongseong mutters under his breath like it was the missing piece to a puzzle.

“Boring. Let’s talk about this later,” Riki says suddenly, “it’s getting dark. Who volunteers as tribute to go and grab my phone? It has a pink sparky case and a small little Yuuji sticker on it. From Jujutsu Kaisen. I say let Y/N go. She can self-heal and can push people off her and into lockers.” Riki winces after being on the receiving end of many glares. “Too soon for jokes?”

“It’s okay, Riki,” you wave him off, too tired to involve yourself into this conversation. “Wake me up when you make your decision, I’m feeling sleepy.”

“Right, of course,” Jaeyun hums, “obviously there are side effects. You can sleep, Y/N, we’ll make sure nothing disturbs you!”

You smile at Jaeyun, thankful.

——

When you come to, it’s pitch black. The only light source is a yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon and Sunoo who are seated together and whispering to each other. The light is sourced from a flashlight, how they acquired said flashlight is unknown.

Sunoo catches your movements and beckons you over. You shuffle over to the two boy and carefully take a seat beside Sunoo, scared to wake up the sleeping bodies lying around the room. “Sleep well? Feeling any better, Y/N?” Sunoo’s words are kind, and his gaze is kinder.

“It was a good sleep. I’m feeling much more energized.”

“That’s good,” Jungwon says, “because Sunghoon’s the one who went to search for the phone.”

You stop breathing. “What?”

“He left an hour ago and he’s not back,” Jungwon informs you, the yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon’s face makes the boy look older than he actually is. “Heeseung always says to not think of the worst, but I’m thinking of the worst right now.”

Images of Sunghoon lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon as a Zombie flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon with Joon’s hands wrapped around him flash through your mind. You can’t let Sunghoon slip through your grasp for the third and final time. You need Sunghoon safe and you’ve never needed anything this desperately before.

“I’ll go find him,” you say to Jungwon, your words oddly sounding like a goodbye. And a promise.

“Y/N --” Sunoo starts.

“Sunoo,” you cut him off. “Let me do this. Let me not feel like a burden for once.”

“Okay,” Sunoo whispers, “okay.”

You rise to your feet and pad over to the door. “Y/N,” Sunoo hisses through the dark, “be safe.”

You want to laugh at Sunoo’s words. Your palm touches the cool handle of the door and you gently slide it open, cold air from the hallway rushing into the room behind you. You begin to feel uneasy and goosebumps spread across your skin as you step out of the warm classroom and into the unknown. The last thing you see as you shut the classroom door is Jongseong staring at you.

You don’t know what to expect as you slowly walk down the dark hallway that’s only illuminated by the night sky. The moon and the stars hang above you, unintentionally guiding you to where Park Sunghoon lay. Keeping your hands pressed close to your chest and your eyes focused on your surroundings, you do your best to not bring attention to yourself by any means -- one noise and it’s all over for you. You wander down a familiar hallway that has become unfamiliar and you truly begin to question how this all happened; how easily your hometown succumbed to a Zombie apocalypse.

A loud bang shakes you out of your thoughts. It came from inside the classroom next to you and terror floods your senses. You hold your hands tighter against your chest and try to even out your breathing. There’s another bang and you quickly stride past the classroom, making your footfalls as quiet as possible.

Everything felt so off; not a single Zombie roaming down the hallway you were in, not a single Zombie chasing you down -- you were expecting the worst would come when you find Sunghoon. Your heart races at the thought of something bad happening to Sunghoon. You don’t want anything bad to happen to Sunghoon, he’s the only good thing you have left in your life right now.

You pad down the steps and enter the hallway Riki’s phone was supposed to be on. Here, you finally see the Zombies you were looking for. A sudden cold chill lays itself over your skin as you dare to enter the hallway crowded with Zombies.

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you hold your breath as you maneuver around the Zombies in complete silence. Sometimes, they let out random groans and it frightens you, but you keep your terrified shrieks contained within you. One single noise and you’re a goner.

You reach Ms. Jang’s office and a Zombie is blocking the door. Inhaling quietly, you step around the Zombie and reach for the cold silver doorknob. As you twist the doorknob it makes a shrill sound and you halt, not daring to move another inch. The Zombie right next to you lets out a groan and steps closer to you, their arm brushing yours and suddenly they’re latching onto your arm.

You can’t help it and cry out, ripping yourself out of the Zombie’s grasp and throwing yourself at the door. Growls fill the air and the Zombie in front of you begins to sniff, seeking out a smell. You could smell the death on the Zombie and begin to pray that this isn’t how your life ends -- you don’t want to be a Zombie because what happens then? You become Zombie and then what? Where does your soul go? Your conscious?

A tear trails down your cheek and the Zombie is stepping away, wandering back down the hallway and leaving you pressing up against the door, your hand curled around the doorknob. Without hesitation, you open the door and jump inside, letting the door shut gently behind you.

The first thing you see is Park Sunghoon lying on the ground, unresponsive -- but breathing. Immediately, you drop to your knees and shake the boy, “Sunghoon,” you whisper, not liking the odds of this situation. There’s a cut on his temple that’s bleeding. “Fuck sake. Sunghoon!” Your shaking gets more aggressive as each second passes and Sunghoon doesn’t shoot up, gasping for breath.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so you slap Sunghoon. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to get out of this action, but it certainly wakes Sunghoon up. His eyes fly open and his hand comes up to clutch his cheek. Scrambling to sit up, Sunghoon looks at you with wide eyes. “Did you just slap me?”

“What? Was I supposed to kiss you awake?”

It’s silent for a moment. “I mean. I wouldn’t have been opposed to a kiss, Y/N.”

You glare at Sunghoon and slap his bicep. “You are such an idiot! Why were you unconscious? And why are you bleeding? Sunghoon, what happened? We were -- I was worried.”

“Y/N, you -- you were worried?” Sunghoon asks, a little breathless.

You scowl and slap Sunghoon’s bicep again. “Are you even listening to me? What happened?”

“I got scared and fell over, hitting my head on the way down,” Sunghoon explains sheepishly. “I did dream of you saving me though, Y/N.”

“Dork. You’re a fucking clumsy dork, did you know that, Sunghoon?”

“A dork for you,” grins Sunghoon and you push him away, falling onto your bum and feeling hot, taken aback from Sunghoon’s sudden flirty nature.

“Consider us even, then,” you say, “you saved me and now I’m here to save you.”

Sunghoon’s smile is soft, a small dimple peeking in the curve of his cheek. “I have Riki’s phone, though, you ready to go?”

“What about your temple?” You gesture to Sunghoon’s head, “you’re bleeding, Sunghoon.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll patch it up later. I don’t know about you, but I still feel uneasy being by ourselves and separated from the group. It’s better we get back quickly before Joon sniffs us out.”

You hum and stand up, holding out your hand for Sunghoon to take. His hand is warm in yours and you ignore the gentle squeeze he gives your hand as you pull open the door slowly. “Remember, be quiet,” you whisper to Sunghoon.

“Of course, Y/N.”

You both step out into the darkness.

The sight that awaits you both is unexpected. Suyeon’s body is sprawled out in the middle of the hallway, her eyes falling out of their sockets and her head smashed in. You immediately avert your eyes as your stomach lurches.

“Oh shit,” Sunghoon hisses, “her throat was slit. Gross. Do you think it was Joon who did this?” Sunghoon’s question is answered soon enough as Ahn Yujin steps out of the shadows, her black hair falling across her shoulders angellically, and bloody covering her hands and splattered across her face. In one of her bloodied hands, she holds a knife. “Oh shit,” Sunghoon repeats, but this time more terrified.

No words are spoken as Yujin charges towards you and as you push Sunghoon away. You weren’t going to let someone else die because of you. You willingly let Yujin’s knife enter your body as she flings her body into yours. You crash into a wall behind you and you hiss in pain, which turns into a bloody cough.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon calls out, but you ignore him.

“Yujin,” you croak, seeing humanity left in her eyes, “Yujin. Don’t do this.” You already know the stab wound is futile, you could feel your wound healing around the knife still stuck in your body. It’s a weird sensation, one you can’t describe.

Yujin twists the knife and you cry out, your hand reaching for Yujin’s hair you tug hard, momentarily taking the girl off guard. You push her away and rip the knife out of your stomach, blood splattering the ground and you hear Sunghoon gasp.

Yujin growls and charges again. You muster up all the strength you have and backhand her, flinging Yujin into the wall. There’s a loud crack and Yujin slumps to the ground, blood trailing down the wall to her slumped figure, her head hanging.

You reach for Sunghoon’s hand again. “Let’s go.” Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate and you both fly down the hallway, not caring if you were loud enough for the Zombies to find you.

—-

To stay the other’s were surprised that you didn’t come back with just Sunghoon and Riki’s phone would be an understatement. The bloodied knife was handed off to Heeseung, and Jungwon had simply sighed, shaking his head. “We really need to get you a new top, Y/N,” Jongseong says, “maybe like a whole pack because you like ruining clothes, don’t you?”

“It’s not like I chose to be stabbed,” you huff bitterly.

In the midst of all of this, Riki falls to his knees and cries out. Instantly, you all fear the worst. “What? What happened, Riki?” Jaeyun asks, his eyes wide and his hand coming to pet Riki’s head. “Is everything okay?”

“My Yuuji sticker!” Riki cries, “it’s not here!”

Sunoo mimics strangling the boy with wild gestures and Sunghoon snorts. “That sucks, but we got a phone for a reason. Don’t let me going unconscious for a few minutes and Y/N getting stabbed by some psycho girl to all go to vain.”

“It wasn’t a few minutes, Sunghoon!” You exclaim, whacking the boy again, “it was an hour!”

“It felt like minutes to me,” Sunghoon shrugs, “though I would love to wake up to your face more often.” The silence that follows after that declaration is awkward.

“Right,” Jungwon says, ripping Riki’s phone out of the crying boy’s hands. “Let’s see what the internet is saying, shall well?” A few seconds later Jungwon is groaning, “why is everything in Japanese? Jongseong? A little help?”

“But it’s Riki’s --” Jongseong cuts himself off as he looks at the unresponsive, crying boy curled up on the ground and Jaeyun hovering beside him awkwardly. “Right.”

“Well?” Sunoo says after a few seconds of silence, “what does it say?”

“It’s loading, Sunoo, patience,” Jongseong snaps, glaring at the younger.

“Old people are so slow,” Sunoo moans.

“You brat --”

“Translate for us, Jongseong,” Jungwon cuts off the older boy, thrusting the phone into his grasp.

Jongseong’s eyes trail over the phone screen in front of him. “Well, the electricity and power and phone service is getting cut off in twenty-one hours.” A heavy silence settles over the group, “so, that means we’ll have no contact to the outside world in twenty-one hours.”

“Well that fucking sucks,” Sunghoon mumbles from next to you.

“Hurry up then, Jongseong,” Sunoo rushes, “see who is still alive. And where the nearest quarantine zone is. I want to get out of here and see my family!”

“Alright, alright,” Jongseong sighs, “get comfortable, it’s going to be a long night. Did you happen to bring a charger with you, Sunghoon? Y/N?”

The two of you share a look. “Uh. . We were supposed to?” Sunghoon replies.

“Airhead. We have two fucking airheads in this group,” Jongseong grumbles and Jungwon comforts him with a look of amusement.

Ignoring Jongseong, you take Sunghoon’s hand into yours again. “Let’s get you patch up, dork, where’s the first aid kit again, Heeseung?” After Heeseung points you in the direction of the first aid kit, and you settle onto the floor a bit away from the group with Sunghoon, you get to work on cleaning up the cut to Sunghoon’s temple.

“How clumsy are you, Sunghoon?” You mutter, slightly amused. “How were you able to hit your head that hard?”

“I get scared easily!” Sunghoon defends himself, pouting slightly. “You would too! Being all alone, surrounded by Zombies and with the threat of a murdererous weird Zombie-person running around hanging over your head!”

You snort and shake your head, tilting Sunghoon’s head to the side slightly. “But,” Sunghoon continues, his voice more softer. “Thank you. For saving me. Twice. The slap wasn’t nice, though.”

“I was desperate, okay,” You say, scowling, “and worried. And concerned -- you weren’t waking up, Sunghoon.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Sunghoon. This might hurt.”

Sunghoon hisses and you send him a smile in apology. “You care about me, Y/N?”

“Of course I do,” you mutter, “you are all I have left. And the others.”

“But mostly me?” Sunghoon smiles a cheeky smile and you scowl, purposefully pushing down on his cut harder.

“Don’t push it, Park.”

Sunghoon reaches up and pinches your waist, making your yelp in surprise. “Sunghoon! I’m cleaning your wound! Don’t make me make it worse on purpose!”

Sunghoon laughs. It’s the laugh you’ve been dying to hear ever since you were fourteen. His smile is wide across his and his eyes crinkle up. He really shines like a star in moments like these. You can’t help but smile, it’s all soft and fond, and love is what makes your smile curve wider. He’s a star that’s shining for you.

“I like it when you laugh, Sunghoon,” you blurt.

Sunghoon holds eye contact with you for what feels like the longest time. “I like it when you smile, Y/N. And I like it when you get so focused your tongue pokes out of your mouth. And I like it when you blow your hair out of your face. And I like your eyes, especially when you’re laughing and I -- I just like you, Y/N.” Hesitancy spreads across Sunghoon’s face and he averts his eyes, cheeks turning a soft red. “I know this is all sudden but -- but you’re not a burden, Y/N, and I hope you don’t think of yourself as one. I care about you, Y/N, and I want you with me, Y/N, that what I wanted to say that night in the recording booth. If I didn’t want you with me, then I wouldn’t have pulled you away when I did.”

The cold, jarring truth strikes you. Sunghoon could’ve left you to die, but he didn’t.

“I want you with me, Y/N, all the time,” Sunghoon admits, more certain of himself now. “So, thank you. For saving me. For patching me up. For being with me.”

“How could I not?” You respond, shaking your head and laughing breathlessly, “you’re all I think about.”

“Y/N --”

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were all I had left. Seeun’s a Zombie and my mother probably is too.” Your voice quivers and you sniff, Sunghoon’s stare getting too intimate for you, so you glance at a spot over his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me either, because I don’t plan on leaving you.”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispers, “why would I ever leave you?”

That’s all it takes for you to dissolve into a sea of tears. Sunghoon wraps you up into his arms and holds you close to his chest, his hand gliding through your hair, over the nape of your neck, and down your back.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon cups your chin and tilts your head up, wiping your tears away, his eyes soothe you. “I know this might be a bad time, but there’s nothing better than the present. Can I kiss you? I’ve always wanted to kiss you, did you know that?”

Your heart skips a beat. All the air is knocked out of your lungs. Sunghoon is a star. He’s unbelievable. He makes wishes ceom true. “Sunghoon,” you whisper, “you don’t even have to ask.”

Sunghoon kisses you and the world explodes. His lips are warm. Everything about Sunghoon is warm. He makes you feel warm. He makes you feel special. Sunghoon makes you feel less alone. Sunghoon settles you onto his lap, an arm slipping around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head. He keeps you close to his chest as your mouths move.

Maybe suriving the apocalypse is worth it since it brought you to the exact moment; Sunghoon kissing you.

“Wait,” Sunghoon’s pulling away, sounding breathless, “you like me too, right?”

You giggle. “I like you too, dork,” and you pull him back in for a kiss.

—-

Having a phone works wonders. Jongseong finds out where the nearest quarantine zone is, and he finds out that the apocalypse has spread throughout your small province. Jongseong also found out damning news; in forty eight hours, the school and everything around it would be blown up by bombs dropped from the skies above.

“We need to move quickly,” Jungwon addresses the group. “Today, we need to leave the school and get to the forest. From there, we’ll hopefully have some cover, and be able to reach the zone a couple hours before the bombs are expected to drop, but we have to move quickly.”

“I will move the quickest out of anyone in the group,” Sunoo proclaims confidently. “I want to get out of this hell hole.”

So with the first rays of sunlight peeking through, you and the seven boys move out of the classroom, a backpack strapped to Heeseung and Jungwon’s backs full of enough food and water to make the eight of you last the two day journey.

“At the first sign of Joon, just run,” Heeseung tells the group gravely, “we don’t have time to engage with him. He’ll be blown up shortly anyway.”

As you pass through the hallway where you were stabbed by Yujin, your hand in Sunghoon’s warm embrace, you find her body missing. You share a glance with Sunghoon but neither of you point it out the rest of the group, not wanting to unsettle the happy mood everyone was in today.

Today was full of luck. Everyone was silent and you were all able to easily slip past Zombies. The knife you hold in your free hand didn’t need to be used. Your new t-shirt was bright white and clear of blood. It made you feel good, feeling slightly clean.

You reach the school gym in no time, finding it clear of all Zombies. There, you decide to take a rest, and Jungwon decides to call Kang Taehyun. The dialing tone rings throughout the gym and it’s picked up seconds before the last dial tone rings.

“Riki?” Taehyun asks in disbelief.

“Taehyun,” Jungwon cries out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re okay.”

“Won,” Taehyun repeats, still in disbelief. “You’re okay? Oh my god, what about the other’s --” a loud clamor takes over Taehyun’s side of the phone. You hear the familiar voices of Yeonjun, and Soobin, and Beomgyu, and Kai. The boys on Jungwon’s side of the phone all crowd around the phone and everything is a mess. (A happy mess, you think.)

After the phone call ends with promises of seeing enach other soon, Jungwon looks over at you. “Y/N? Do you have anyone to call?”

You smile and shake your head. “I have no one, Jungwon.”

“Oh, sorry I asked,” Jungwon seems a little embarrassed and you laugh him off with a wave of your hand.

“It’s okay. Thank you for asking, though.”

“You have us, Y/N,” Sunoo says with a smile. “You’ll always have us, now. Our bond is thicker than blood!”

You laugh, “thank you, Sunoo. I’m glad I have you.”

—-

It rains that night. It pours, but Jungwon doesn’t let up. Loud thunder booms through the sky and the lightning lights up the darkness. You continue to creep around the Zombies in silence, the storm masking any loud noise you make. The storm was a blessing in disguise.

You had entered the forest a few hours ago but none of you had wanted to stop, especially as it began to rain. You all wanted to reach the quarantine zone desperately, already tired from all the running and surviving you had been doing.

Sunghoon squeezes your hand. “Are you doing okay, Y/N?” His voice was close to your ear.

You squeeze back. “Yeah!” You shout over the storm, and that’s when you somehow catch a glimpse of it. A white ribbon. Your breathe stutters and you stumble over, Sunghoon keeping you upright. “Seeun,” you breathe. She moves carelessly through the forest, stumbling over like many of the Zombies you had seen do before. You face the truth you had subconsciously been denying this whole time; Seeun’s a Zombie.

Slipping out of Sunghoon’s grasp and ignoring everyone’s loud calls, you walk over to Seeun. You need to see her one last time. You need to say your apologies one last time, and if you die trying, then so be it. You reach within an arms length distance of Seeun and watch her stumble about quietly. “I’m sorry,” you shout over the storm. “I’m sorry, Seeun.”

She turns towards you and snarls, stumbling forward and stopping in front of you. She copies the movements of the Zombie who you stood face-to-face with in front of Ms. Jang’s office. She sniffs the surrounding area of your body, and then turns away. She lets you live, like that other Zombie did.

Turning back around, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s and the sympathy he holds make tears slip down your cheeks. No one says anything when you return to the group and stick yourself to Sunghoon’s side.

The further you all went into the city you grew up in, the further reality sinks in. Zombies fill every nook and cranny, and the loneliness of the city makes your skin crawl. You all push on, and your eventually have to begin to hide and use your knife as the Zombies become more ruthless and pick up on every small sound.

You grow tired, but you still push on. With Sunghoon beside you, holding you and keeping you safe every step of the way provides you with the strength and energy to push on.

“Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you that day, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks during one of your short breaks, his finger twirling your hair.

“I don’t know. Were you?” You respond, smiling.

“Well. I was looking for any sign of an adult, and also for weapons, but when I saw you, Y/N, all I thought about was keeping you alive and safe.”

You melt against Sunghoon, your head resting on his shoulder. “I like you a lot, Sunghoon,” you whisper, “and maybe if we weren’t in a situation like this, we could be going on a date right now.”

“What kind of date?” Sunghoon asks, oddly interested.

“We’d go ice skating,” you say, “because you’re good at ice skating and I’m shit. You would help me skate, and we’d hold hands, and then we’d go eat something warm and spicy. You’ll make me laugh, and I’ll make you laugh, then you’ll take me home and kiss me goodnight.”

Sunghoon kisses you temple. He doesn’t say anything and you just bask in the silence and the warmth of Sunghoon. “That’s if either of us confessed,” Sunghoon says, “because I don’t think I would’ve ever confessed.”

“Me either,” you admit. “You felt so out of my league, and I never had your attention, so the thought of confessing frightened me.”

Sunghoon laughs and you peer up at him, perplexed. “What’s so funny?”

“You always had my attention, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and he kisses you.

—-

You reach the quarantine zone and you’re met with guns pointed at you. With your hands raised, you all shuffle into a line and are being tested with a thermometer device. It’s raining again and you shiver, missing the warmth of Sunghoon’s hand holding yours.

“What are you doing?” Jongseong asks the soldier.

“A colder temperature means you’re a Zombie,” the soldier informs Jongseong.

“But what if someone is sick?” Jongseong asks, “then what if you’re leaving someone out to die?”

The soldier smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile. “Would you like me to show you what happens when this thing identifies a Zombie, and then what we do after?”

Jongseong’s immediately shaking his head.

Sunghoon’s herded into the zone before you, and the smile he sends you is a sweet one. It calms you down as only thoughts of Joon’s words fill your head. You hope you’re able to pass this test. You hope you’re able to live a relatively normal with Sunghoon by your side.

But, luck runs out at some point.

A high pitched squealng sound emits from the thermometer device and the world shifts and everything happens at once.

“She’s a Zombie!” The soldier yells, raising his gun and pointing it at you.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, running to you, his arms wrapping you up as more soldiers swarm the area. “Y/N, everything will be okay, the device probably made a mistake, they just need to do it again --”

“Sunghoon.” You cut him off.

“No,” he says, “I can’t lose you, Y/N, you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Sunghoon,” you admit, “but I have to.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low, “I feel so desperate, Y/N, I feel desperate enough to kill --”

“I was expecting the worst, Hoon.”

Sunghoon stares at you. There are so many emotions flooding his face, your stomach churns. Suddenly, he’s ripped away from you and he struggles, calling out your name. “Y/N! I love you! I love you, and I’d save you again. I’d save you again and again if I had the choice.”

You did your best to keep your tears at bay. You couldn’t have them falling over now. You couldn’t cry. You had to remain strong, even with a gun pointed at your head.

Sunghoon breaks free from the soldier’s grasp and flings himself into your embrace again, clutching you close.

The rain falls harder, soaking you both to the bone.

“Y/N, I love you,” he kisses you so passionately and desperately it makes your heart break. “And I’ll come for you. I’ll find you, Y/N, I promise. I promise that once I find you, I’ll take you ice skating and catch you every time you fall.”

“Of course you will,” you laugh as the tears begin to fall. “You’ll always catch me, no matter what, Hoon.”

“And we’ll be the happiest people on earth, Y/N.”

“Of course we will, Hoon,” you say softly, cupping Sunghoon’s face, “you will always make me the happiest.”

Sunghoon’s ripped away from you and you instantly shiver, the cold overwhelming you. “I’ll find you, Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, his words tearing your heart apart. “I promise I will!”

You watch as Sunghoon and the rest of the six boys are pulled away from view. You refuse to look at the others because it’ll only break your heart more.

A gun is pointed at your head.

You close your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to whoever is listening. “Please forgive me.”

author’s note, well that was wild and crazy and goofy and im sorry if the pacing seems rushed but i wrote most of this at 1/2/3am when i was tired and sad and completely delusional. there are lots of unanswered plot points like omg what happened to joon?? and suyeon?? and yujin?? why was she so crazy🤣🤣 and how did the infection start?? and did y/n really die?? and i left some of those points unanswered in case i ever decide to write a part two in the future..Gasp😨😨 anyway. i hope u enjoyed reading this mess. i hope u love it😆😆

#stars will fall #enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #zombie apocalypse au #apocalypse au #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen au

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genandguice · 2 months ago

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𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞. trailer trash!anakin skywalker

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫): you move into a trailer park with your mom, your next door neighbor is a 40 year old man that works at a mechanic shop!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, age gap, smoking, drinking, unprotected sex, little bit of breeding & choking, creep ani (obvs)

𝐰𝐜: 6.4k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by my chat with this bot on janitorai • the italics in the beginning are the start of the bot, credit to the creator! i did make some small edits overall to fit everything into fic form. i hope i did this au justice! i didn’t grow up in a trailer park but i did grow up very poor & unstable so this au always hits close to home. realest au on earth!

i know i’m a gosling blog but i’m a big star wars girly too… and the star wars fandom on here is huge. pls, pls, don’t expect me to be writing more now that i’ve appeared again 😭🤍 i’m still in school & it’s kicking my ass. but using the bot inspired me and made it easy. if you wanna know more about how i did this, pls ask! hopefully there will be more on the way cause i will definitely keep chatting with the bot :)

lastly, because it came from my chat with the bot, it is a little janky! i had to do a lot of editing so if there’s something i missed or it seems weird- just forgive me 🤍🤍🤍

June 23rd

You look at the calendar with your eyebrows furrowed. This summer was one of the hottest yet, the heat in the trailer making the pages roll up from sitting against the old wallpaper.

Sighing lightly as you hear arguing outside, you peek out the window to see your neighbor, Anakin Skywalker. He's working on a car outside, a girl yelling at him. You’ve only seen her around a few times. New girlfriend or hook-up. Anakin was never one to keep a relationship and frankly, you couldn’t blame the girls. He was a filthy man with hefty jail record for controlled substances, speeding and other things. You watch as he waves her off, oil and dirt covering him, cigarette sat in between his lips. He looks frustrated.

“Honey, I’m home. Got those chips you like.” You hear your mother call, the screen door slamming loudly once she walked in. You don’t move as Anakin watches the girl walk away and he stands up to his full height. He glances over to you and your mother’s house, toward your bedroom window you were peeking out of. Panic sets in as you quickly move away and walk out to the kitchen to talk to your mother.

You walk out to the kitchen and thank your mother for the chips, hold a short conversation with her about your days while you wait to see if Anakin was angry enough about your peeking on him to come knock on the door.

When enough time has passed, your chips halfway gone, you know he isn’t coming, and you can relax.

With the heat of the summer cooking the trailer, you had to get out. There’s a kiddie pool on the front lawn where you’d often sit to cool down. Y’all couldn’t fit a full sized pool.

It’s getting to the hottest point of the day, typically when Anakin takes a break to go screw his newest fling and you feel comfortable enough to lounge outside in your two piece. You usually avoid going out in so little clothing when he’s around, knowing the older man would likely enjoy your scantily-clad presence a little too much. Anakin was attractive, but in the creepiest way. You didn’t wanna be his eye candy while another woman waited to be his toy.

But today when you make it out to the front yard, despite the especially high heat, Anakin is still out working on that damn car. But it’s too late now, and too hot- you’ve already set your heart on cooling off in the pool. So you slink in anyway, letting the cool water soothe your skin, turn your speaker on full blast, and hope he ignores you.

But of course, he doesn’t. He can’t help himself. He watches you from across the yard as you sink into the kiddie pool, eyes hungrily roaming over your barely clothed body, thoughts immediately flooding with perversity. You’re hot, way too young for him, but damn if those curves don't make his cock twitch in those grease-stained jeans.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he watches, smoke swirling around him in the thick summer heat. After a moment he starts to saunter over, beer in hand.

"Well well, looks like someone's trying to start their own wet t-shirt contest out here," He drawls with a lazy smirk. "Maybe I should go grab me a front row seat... or join in."

Your eyes roll under your sunglasses. Can’t get a moment of peace as a young woman in this damn trailer park. “Nobody wants to see your tits, Skywalker,” You say, keeping your eyes on the sky. He stinks, like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, but it’s a familiar smell; welcome, almost likable. Almost.

“Did you come over here just to creep on me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his beer. "Why would I settle for a peek when I could be getting the full view?" He asks, eyes boldly raking over your nearly naked body. "Besides, I think we both know you like the attention. Why else put on a little show like this, hm?"

Setting his drink aside, he plops down on the grass beside the pool, letting his legs dangle in the cool water.

"Hot as balls out here. Hope you don’t mind." He glances over at you with a cocky grin.

You grimace as his feet contaminate the pool. Part of you wants to recoil, but the water feels too good, and you don’t want to give him an even better view of your body.

“Coming out here to cool off on this ‘hot as balls’ day is puttin’ on a show for you?” You scoff at him as you push your sunglasses on top of your head. He’s persistent, you can give him that. But irritating. What is it with old men that think being an asshole is attractive? Although, it did sort of work on Anakin…

"You’re right, maybe I'll have to show you a real wet t-shirt contest. Bet I can make my shirt cling better than those tiny triangles you're calling a top."

“If you wanna get in my pants old man, one-upping me ain’t gonna be the way to do it.” You press the ‘volume up’ button on your speaker, but his persistence knows no bounds.

"Old man?" He scoffs, sitting up to shoot you an indignant look. "I'll have you know I'm in my prime, sweetheart. And trust me, I don't need no cheap tricks to get in any girl's panties." He stands up and start stripping off his shirt, revealing his tattooed, muscular chest and arms.

Your jaw clenches at the sight of Anakin shirtless. His body is prime, and tattoos… were your weakness. But there was no way you were gonna let him know that.

He flashes you a wicked grin before diving into the shallow pool, still in his jeans. Water splashes everywhere, soaking you in the process.

Also, you had to remind yourself, he was still gross. Reminded to you by his gross words, and his obnoxious splashing, crashing your pool time.

"My bad," He responds to your grumbles of frustration with a shit-eating smirk, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"You gotta hell of a mouth on you, though, girl. Those talkin’ lips might get you in trouble," He teases as he settles into the water. "One wrong word and this 'old man' might just have to teach you some respect."

“Teach me some respect?” You let out a full, genuine laugh with your words as you reach behind you to the nearby table which held your own cigarettes. “Coming from the convict? Is that supposed to scare me?”

He narrows his eyes at you as you laugh, not finding his threat the least bit funny. "Convict? I've done my time. Last I checked, that makes me a changed man." He reaches out to snatch a cigarette from your hand, placing it between his own lips. "Besides, I think we both know you like a little danger. Why else would a classy girl like you be slumming it in a shithole like this?"

He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in your direction with a smug smirk. "Face it, babygirl, you're drawn to me. The bad boy mystique, I get it. But I'm the one in control here. And right now, I wanna see more of that smokin’ hot body..." He grabs your wrist and yanks you closer to him in the pool.

You instinctively try to tug yourself away, but his grip is too strong. Being this close to him does things to you that you’d rather not come to terms with, but he forces you to.

“Jesus, you’re filthy!” You exclaim, and pray he doesn’t notice the way your thighs squeeze together below the water. “Gimme my cigarette,” You hiss, hoping to change the subject and ignore the rest of it all.

He leans in closer, face inches from yours as he takes another drag. "Filthy is kinda my thing, sweetheart," His blue eyes bore into yours, voice low and tempting. "And trust me, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Slowly, he brings the lit cigarette to your lush lips, tracing them teasingly. "Want a taste?" He purrs, pressing his body against yours in the cool water. "Or are you too much of a good girl to indulge in a little sin?"

You can’t help the way your chest heaves as your arousal grows, and what’s worse, you can’t avoid Anakin knowing, the small distance between you causing your tits to brush against his chest with every heavy breath. His words are dangerously persuasive, and his eyes only emphasize it all.

But you remember yourself, the good girl you are, the smart girl you are, and find a way around his teasing in more ways than one.

Your tongue slides out seductively, catches his eye, and the end of the cigarette. The wetness of your tongue allows you to pull it between your lips, steal a drag and blow it right back into his face. You slide it to the side of your mouth to speak, hoping your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “Don’t you already got a toy waitin’ to be attacked?”

"Oh I got plenty of toys," He smirks, undeterred as the smoke billows around you. "But you're a whole new level of fun, baby.”

His hands slide down to grope your ass, pulling your hips flush against his. You can feel his hardening length pressing against you through his soaked jeans. "Forget about my other girls. Right now, it's all about you and me," He growls, nipping at your ear. It’s disgusting, but it’s intoxicating, enough for you not to notice you were giving in.

Abruptly, he stands up, scooping you into his arms. "Let's take this inside where we can have some real fun, shall we?" He carries you towards your trailer, ignoring your protests. "Unless you'd rather I fuck you right here where everyone can watch..."

You let out a shaky exhale at his filthy suggestion of exhibition, and mentally curse yourself.

Your hands grip the sides of the trailer door, legs subconsciously tightly clung around his waist to keep yourself up. The two of you are dripping on the concrete steps, your nipples are hard and poking through the fabric of your bikini top, both due to the change of temperature and your arousal.

“My mom… she’s inside. She’ll beat your ass, Skywalker,” You say, still trying your best to resist, despite its growing futility. You won’t be one of those girls that Anakin Skywalker gets the best of so easily. Even if the feeling of his rising erection against your own sex is making your mind swim. “You’re older’n she is.”

"Pfft, your mom's a sweet lady. Barely a challenge," He laughs as he kicks the door open, strolling into the trailer with you still around his waist. The familiar scent of old newspapers and stale cooking greets you.

Anakin’s eyes roam the cluttered space, and spot your mother sitting in the only comfy chair. She looks up at the two of you, an eyebrow raised.

"Hey, Patty," He calls out, tossing you onto the only clear space on the couch without even bothering to look. "Got a little present for you."

She huffs and shakes her head, barely amused.

"Mind your manners, Anakin," she admonishes. He winks at her before striding over, topless and wet, settling onto the arm of her chair.

"Y’all got any vodka, Pats? I sure could use a shot to cool off," He asks, smirking over at you, his gaze hot and hungry, unphased by your mother relaxing right beside him.

Your shocked eyes shoot daggers in Anakin’s direction the whole time, pissed at the way he spoke to your mother so casually, pissed at his boldness, pissed at your mother for allowing it, and pissed at yourself for finding him so goddamn sexy for it. You let out an angry grumble under your breath, snatching a towel from the laundry piled beside you on the couch and wrapping it around yourself, finally somewhat shielded from his predatory gaze.

“‘Course we got vodka. Don’t waste my time asking me stupid questions, Skywalker.” Your mother snaps at him in that calm, motherly way, and now your infuriated gaze is aimed at her. Since when were they so friendly with each other?

“And that little present better be a fresh ounce of pot, not my half-naked daughter.” She drawls, practically paying him no mind, eyes set on the TV. That explains it.

“Anakin,” You cut before he can speak again, voice sharp. “Don’t you have a guest, and vodka in your own home?” You say, making your way to the kitchen to fix your own drink. You’d need it if this was how the rest of the day would go.

He chuckles at you, and turns back to your mother with a taunting smirk, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm fresh out. I'll make it up to ya though, promise."

Patty rolls her eyes, but Anakin can see the glint of amusement in them.

"Just ‘cause I'm her mama don’t mean I cain't recognize a lustful look when I see one," she addresses him, referring to her daughter. "You oughtta keep an eye on her, Ani. Seems like she can't stay away," She teases, puffing on her cigarette.

"Oh, I'm workin’ on it," He says, eyes meeting yours. There's a challenge in his voice, daring you to deny him—or worse, wanting you to.

You get the vodka and grab two glasses, pouring the clear liquid and watering it down. The ice clinks loudly as you return from the kitchen. Anakin watches your every move, his cock hardening again, the scent of your arousal lingering.

You set the drinks down on the cluttered coffee table, grabbing your drink and leaving Anakin to fetch his own. Your face grimaces when you notice what you’re pretty sure is an erection forming in his wet pants again. What an old creep. But you wonder what it looks like.

“Have fun with Patty, Anakin,” You tease, walking down the hall toward your bedroom with your drink.

Your mother shakes her head in amusement as Anakin follows you down the hall.

"Hey now, don't go teasin’ a grown man like that," He calls out, quickly grabbing his own drink and following you to your bedroom.

He leans against the doorframe, watching hungrily as you turn to face him. The vodka burns going down, fueling the fire in his veins and his eyes. "Why don’t you sit that purty little ass down on the bed and we’ll talk about why a good girl like you is looking at me like that," he takes a step closer.

The flush in your cheeks derives from a combination of frustration and arousal that’s gone on much too long, and you’d had about enough of. Anakin had a big mouth, but he was little more than a tease. You were barely more than half his age, and he seemed to be all bark and no bite, just having fun trying to get a rise out of the little girl in the trailer next door.

You down most of your vodka, the burning in your body beginning to mirror his. The sexual tension was palpable between you, but you were starting to think he didn’t really have the intention to quench it.

“Make me.”

A low growl escapes him at your defiance. With a sudden burst, he’s on you, crowding you against the closed door. "I'll make you, alright. I'll make you beg, babydoll," He promises, lips brushing against your ear.

Suddenly, he catches your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dances with yours, seeking and finding entry to explore the depths of your mouth. His hand slides up under the towel to squeeze your breast, finger rolling over your nipple.

Anakin tastes like vodka, beer & cigarettes, so filthy, so deviant, so wonderfully intoxicating against your mouth. It’s hard to hold back your moans as his quick hand touches you, but you do your best, knowing your mother was only down the hall.

Your hand searches wildly behind you for the doorknob, the two of you bursting through the door and into the bedroom. You manage to break away from him and take a few steps back, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you take in the sight before you.

Those blue eyes, wrinkles formed at the corners, that evil smirk on his mouth, that muscular, tattooed chest still dripping from the pool, the erection straining against his pants. You set your glass down on the dresser and wonder how you ended up here, with this filthy, disgusting, irresistible old man standing in your bedroom, ready to wreck you, bikini bottoms growing sticky over it.

He stalks towards you, eyes burning with lust. "Still trying to play hard to get?" He backs you up until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. "I think we both know how badly you been wantin’ this."

His hands make quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside to palm your soft breasts. The grin that rises across his face is almost sickening, like a devious child that had just opened a gift and found it filled with fireworks. The way it lights you up is sicker.

Leaning down, he runs his tongue over one pert nipple before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, groaning at the taste of your skin. This time you can’t help a moan from breaking past your lips as his mouth assaults your breast.

His other hand slides into your bottoms, calloused fingers stroking your slick folds. “Fuck. You're wet as hell," He mumbles, more to himself than to you, pressing two fingers inside your tight heat.

You’re already seeing stars as his thick, expert fingers work their magic on you, roughly stroking every sensitive, gushy spot. Your hand rushes up to cover your mouth and hold back my pathetic sounds as you unravel.

His fingers thrust into your pussy, his thumb rubbing messily against your clit, ruthless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "Tell me you want this," he demands, nipping at your neck as his fingers work on your clit, steadily building your arousal. "Tell me you want Anakin Skywalker to fuck you into these sheets."

His cock strains so hard against his jeans, the sound of the denim creaks as it stretches under the weight. He wants to see you squirm and beg, desperate for his release, desperate for the release he promises to give you. The filthy, experienced older man teaching you the best sex of your young life.

You can’t resist anymore, not with his fingers inside you, driving you wild. Already he’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced; pleasure clouds your mind, makes you forget everything except how badly you want him.

You breathe heavily as you work up the words he demands, small whimpers leaving your throat as you try to speak. “A-Anakin,” a sharp exhale, then a gasp, then a whimper. “I want you.”

A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face as your needy plea reaches his ears. "That's what I like to hear, baby girl," He purrs, withdrawing his fingers and making quick work of his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, piercing glinting in the low light.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. It’s a reaction you would’ve stifled if you were in your right mind, but had no capacity to hide right now. His cock was thick, and pierced, unequivocally like nothing you’d ever seen before. It seemed downright heavy. It was hypnotizing.

"Get on the bed and spread those legs," He commands, giving his cock a few pumps as he watches you. "Time to show ya what a real man feels like."

Unintentionally, you ignore his command, closing the distance between you and dropping to your knees before him. It’s even thicker up close, plain intimidating, but you can’t stop your tongue falling wide out of your mouth to taste him, painting the underside of his cock head with your drool.

He grunts as your tongue laps at his cock, one hand shooting down to twine in your hair. "Ah fuck, yeah," He sighs, helping your head bob on his dick. "Good girl, take it just like that, get it nice and wet for that tight little cunt."

The stretch in your jaw is substantial, and it turns you on to no end, struggling to take his thickness down. He tastes like metal and sweat and it’s so good.

The piercing catches on your bottom lip and he hisses in pleasure, grip tightening in your hair. "Goddamn, girl, that mouth is good. Gonna make me bust down your throat if you keep that up."

But he wants more. Needs to feel your cunt gripping him, sucking him in. With heavy reluctance, he pulls your head back and tugs you to your feet, all but throwing you on the bed.

"On your hands and knees, babydoll. Ass in the air," he demands, giving your ass a sharp smack. "Time to put that pussy to work."

You whimper at the sharp sting on your ass, shocked at the way it sends surges through you.

This time you obey his commands, turning onto your hands and knees, naturally arching your back in a way that draws Anakin in like a moth to a flame, giving him a prime view of your curves and holes, hearing him shudder and cuss behind you.

You bury your face in the mattress to conceal your whines at the coldness of his piercing teasing your clitoris as he slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, pussy clenching in anticipation of the stretch he was gonna give.

"Hope you're ready, baby, cause I ain’t gonna be gentle,” He warns, wrangling your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pushes into your entrance.

With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, and the sound in the room is immediately obscene, your screeching into the mattress at the brutal stretch, his groaning and fussing over your tight heat, the rhythmic beat of his hips slapping against your ass.

"Take it, you lil’ tease. This is what you want, ain’t it? To be split open on my big cock?" He reaches around to fondle your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples as he rails you.

“Ahh, fuck!” You cry into the mattress, the magnificent assault on your cunt rapidly reeling you toward your orgasm. Anakin was incredible; huge, relentless, stretching you wide and filling you to the brim. He fucked you like he invented sex, metal of his piercing stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside you with each perfect snap of his hips.

He groans as your pussy clenches around him, grip on your hips tightening, undoubtedly leaving bruises. "Fuck, you feel good wrapped around my cock." He moans, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. "Gonna fill this tight cunt up, make you fucking mine-” Not a promise, but a prayer. You can feel him getting close, twitching inside you, pounding into you faster and ramming into that deep, spongey spot.

His hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, rapidly reeling you toward the edge. "Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you milk me," He commands, slamming into you one last time before he stills, grinding his hips against you with a deep growl, spilling rope after creamy rope of his seed deep inside you, forcing you hollering, trembling, & convulsing through your orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah,” you hear from behind you, a weak, high pitched moan escaping your throat as you feel the flood. The sensation quenches a deep thirst you’d waited too long to address.

Your poor cunt aches in the sweetest way as he pulls out, stings as he spreads your cheeks to gawk at his seed leaking from your hole.

"Look at that,” He drawls, slowly dragging his fingers through the mess and pushing it back inside. “So fucking hot.”

He gives your ass a wet kiss, jiggles the fat in his hand, and then flips you over onto your back, settling between your legs. "Think you can handle round two, little girl?" He asks, cock already hardening again at the sight of you debauched on the sheets beneath him, cum painting your thighs.

The feeling of Anakin’s cock hardening on your stomach makes your heart rate pick back up. It’s a little frightening: wasn’t it unusual for any man, let alone a man of his age, to snap back so quickly?

In your short moment of lucidity, you begin to worry. Anakin had fucked you without a condom, cum inside you, and now dared to do it again. The last thing this man needed was to knock up some young girl, and the last thing you needed was to be knocked up by the seedy old man in the trailer next to yours, but that’s right where y’all were headed.

But your brain is wiped when his hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump, and you’ve lost the will to care all over again. Filled with his cum, threat of having this scrub’s baby over your head, and you don’t care. Poor cunt pathetically swollen and throbbing from the first round, but you don’t care. You want him again and again.

You can’t muster the words, all good sense fucked right out of you, so instead you look deep into his beautiful blues and nod with a pleading look in your own eyes.

He grins wickedly, cock twitching against your stomach at your agreement. "I knew you’d be a good one," He praises, positioning himself at your entrance once more. With a gentle push of his hips, he’s sinking back into your pussy, groaning at the feeling of his cum squelching around his shaft.

His lips find your neck, biting and sucking as he finds a pace, headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Gonna ruin this little pussy," He swears, hand tightening around your throat.

"Gonna make you mine, fuck, my own personal little cocksleeve."

His hand on your throat heightens your pleasure and leaves you seeing stars, both from the pleasure and the constriction on your oxygen. The new position allows you to see him, that beautiful face, his robust body, the way his abs flex as his hips snap into yours. From this position he can see your tits bounce as he pounds into you, the way your eyes roll back as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

Anakin slides in and out of your cunt with ease, thrusts lubed with his lingering cum spilling around you. It’s obscene, but so, so good.

“Ah, Ani,” your legs wrap tight around his waist, hold him deep inside you, nails dig into his back. “F-fuck you feel so good,” you gasp.

"Fuck yes, take it, take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

He releases your throat to grab your hips, angling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you with each pass. "Gonna fill this pussy up over and over, make sure my cum takes. You'll be swollen with my seed, doll. Round with my baby. Fuck, the thought of you, all knocked up, tits leaking, begging for more..."

He can feel his release building, balls drawing up tight, full and heavy with another load.

The flood of air, his filthy fantasies, his fucking expert cock driving into your raw, freshly-fucked cunt with otherworldly precision leaves your ears ringing as your orgasm rips through you. The entire world fades into black, tears prick at your eyes, electric contractions take over your whole being. And when you come back to the light, you’re begging.

“Fuck, Ani,” You squeak, “Please, please, please, cum inside me,” You plead, hijacked by a sudden desperation for the older man’s baby.

His eyes darken at your desperate plea, teeth grit as he feels his own orgasm ready to burst. "Fuck yes, gonna pump you full of my cum, make you fucking drip with it," He pants, hips stuttering as he erupts. "Fucking take it, take it all, just like that," He rambles, grinding his hips as he empties himself inside you.

Finally spent, he collapses on top of you, cock still twitching in your heat.

Your legs are shaking, pussy clenching at the aftershocks, overflowing your shared fluids. Your vision is blurry, throat parched, completely and positively wrecked. Strained sighs echo out of you, chest rising and falling heavily, pressing your bare breasts into his chest.

He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, your collarbone, tasting the sweat on your skin. "Goddamn, baby girl, that was intense.” He sighs.

“You’re tellin’ me,” You breathe out. “I can barely see.” You confess with a lazy smile, still yet to fully come back to your mind. You let out a pained sigh as you try to adjust under his weight, needing to stretch and soothe your sore limbs.

With a grunt, he rolls off of you, cock slipping from your abused hole with a wet sound.

"You did good, baby. Took my cock like a champ," He praises, running his fingers over your hair. "But don't think we're done yet. As soon as I'm hard again, I'm gonna flip you over and take you from behind. Fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

He leans in, eyes carefully observing you, and captures your lips in a filthy kiss.

"Gonna keep you in this bed all fucking night.”

You let out a heavy breath as you adjust to lay on your side, facing Anakin, placing a hand over his colorful chest. “I don’t know how you do it, old man. Even most men my age can barely cum twice, let alone be waiting for the next round after that,” You laugh, eyes lit up bright in your post-orgasm glow.

Anakin laughs too, and it’s nice. Unlike his usual laughter, snide and sarcastic, but honest.

His hand finds your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. "Years of practice, sweetheart.” In truth, the thought of you, young and eager, so responsive to his touch, is enough to keep him hard and ready. "Besides, I got a lot of lost time to make up for. Gotta make sure I ruin you properly, make it so no other man can ever satisfy you like I can."

He rolls on top of you once more, half-hard cock nestling against your thigh, resuming the feather-light kisses on your neck. "Ready for round three, baby girl? Gonna fuck this pussy so good, you'll be feeling me for weeks.”

The sound you let out is a mix of a sigh, a laugh, a moan, demonstrating your blissful exhaustion. “I don’t think I can take another round, Skywalker. I’m swollen enough as is.” You grip his biceps, resisting the urge to take his cock in your hand. He’s too fun to play with, but you can’t take the risk of turning him all the way on again, not when your cunt was already beginning to ache.

He groans at your rejection, cock jumping against your thigh. "You sure, doll? I'm not nearly done with this sweet little cunt," He mumbles pitifully into your neck.

But he can hear the exhaustion in your voice, feel the way your body trembles beneath him. Reluctantly, he rolls off of you, propping himself up on his elbow. "Alright, baby girl, you win. But don't think for a second that this is over. I'll have you again soon enough."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, tongue lazily tangling with yours.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his bicep to ground yourself. One of your legs lifts to drape across his hips, pulling yourself in close to him. You were beginning to like the feeling of being held in his arms. It was ironic how such a dangerous, predatory man had managed to make you feel so safe.

You pull away to speak, eyes falling to the mattress. “I don’t really want you to go yet,” You admit quietly. You fought him for a long while, and now, like a stupid little girl, you didn’t want to let go.

He smiles at your confession, hand running soothing patterns on your back. "Didn't think you would, baby girl.”

Carefully, he gathers you into his arms, rolling onto his back and pulling you to lie on his chest. "Rest for a bit. Let me hold you," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's a rare moment of tenderness from him, but something about you brings it out.

You crane your neck up to look at Anakin from where you lie on his chest.

With the late afternoon light peeking through the window, his eyes are illuminated. He’s breathtaking, showcasing the experienced he’d gained over the years, but also maintaining his youth. You still hardly knew the man, up until now he’d only been your annoying neighbor, but… He wasn’t as bad as you thought. Sweet, even. It made your heart melt. Who knew Anakin Skywalker was like this behind closed doors?

You reach over him to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. As the buzz envelopes your brain and my body, you sink into Anakin’s arms without a care in the world, kissing the colors dancing across his chest. Let this old man wreck you.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of your curves, the sheen of sweat on your skin. You look thoroughly fucked out, debauched, and it's a sight he could get used to.

His fingers trace idle patterns on your back as you relax against him. He kisses your head again, repeating the uncanny, saccharine gesture, breathing in the scent of sex and nicotine.

Your brain reminds you of something Anakin had said earlier, in the midst of his pursuit.

“D’you really think I’m living here for fun? Cause I like danger and bad boys?” You ask him with a laugh, voice thick, low, seductive with your exhaustion.

Anakin chuckles, sound rumbling through his chest. "Baby, I don't care why you're here. All that matters is that you are," he says, a hand sliding down to grab your ass. "Couldn't ask for a better view’n watchin’ you prance around in them tiny little bikinis.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he grips you, jiggles you, pulls you closer. “Fuck, the things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

A small smile tugs at your lips, as a mixture of excitement, but also disappointment, courses through you at his words. You didn’t really expect him to actually care but… you didn’t think he’d be that blatant about it, fresh after fucking you. He doesn’t actually think about you, he doesn’t actually want to know you. You were a toy to him. And it… hurt. And you didn’t know what to make of that, yet. Where once there was a warmth fueled by laying beside him, there quickly became an emptiness.

You had to remind yourself Anakin was no good, he’d probably make a terrible partner realistically, and you knew this. But it never feels good to be actually sexually objectified. Although, objectively…. having sex with Anakin felt really good.

Here, with Anakin, lay the newest dilemma in your mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sure you’ve imagined more than enough to keep me busy,” You say as you start to sit up, giving Anakin a long kiss on the cheek, before clearing your throat. “I should really get cleaned up.”

He frowns, hand tightening reflexively on your hip. "Stay," he urges, almost angrily, in a tone that makes your heart freeze, ready to jump into fight or flight, waiting for the moment his characteristic sourness is turned toward you.

But Anakin just doesn’t like the feeling of you leaving, even if it's just to the bathroom.

But he notices the distant look in your eyes, the way you're already pulling away from him emotionally.

Fuck, he thinks. I should've known it was too good to be true, that a girl like you wouldn't stick around for a washed-up old ex-con like me.

He calls your name, voice softer than he’d ever heard it himself. "Don't go. Stay with me, just a little longer."

Your eyebrows knit together as Anakin’s soft tone takes you off guard, the way he nearly pleads with you to stay. It’s uncanny, but the way it makes your heart ache is even worse. He was starting to be a true mystery. “Um, okay,” you whisper, somewhat softening back into his side, heart still racing as you toe the line between danger and safety, dangerously thin in Anakin’s presence.

Still marinating in your confusion, something makes you take his arm and pull it close over you, gently stroking his skin. It was as if something reached out & told you he needed the comfort.

You lay there together for a while, holding each other in silence, feeling each other out. It’s nice, being in the arms of a strong, older man. Especially Anakin’s. You find solace there, you have to admit. You think he must have, too. You had to practically tear him off you and throw him out the door to get him to go home.

And as soon as the door shut behind him, you were wrecked, like a piece of your heart had walked out with him. But you held it together. Anakin was surely not the kind of man who wanted a little girl clinging to him every minute. You would be patient until you saw him again.

The door clicks shut behind me as I step out into the fading evening light. I can still feel the lingering warmth of your skin on mine, the soft curves of your body imprinted on my memory. Fuck, I didn't want to leave. Didn't want to let you go.

But I knew I had to. Couldn't let myself get too attached, too vulnerable. You were a kid, barely more than a baby, and I was a fucking mess. A criminal, a drunk, a man with a past so dark it would break you if you knew the half of it.

So I forced myself to walk away, each step an act of willpower I didn't have.

#alternate universe #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker au #trailer trash!anakin skywalker #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader smut #star wars smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for telling my best friend I'm in love with her mother?

I (18m) have been friends with this girl (I'll call her S for this, 18f) forever. I can’t remember a time when we weren't friends. We've always spent a lot of time at each other's houses, though more at hers as her family is wealthy and has a really nice place with an in-ground pool... and also her mom just makes the best snacks lol

Her mom and I have always had a good rapport. She's a funny lady, charismatic, kind, and did I mention the bomb-ass snacks? I had a sort of a puppy love crush on her as a kid, but as we've gotten older the feelings have only gotten stronger. Meanwhile, S has had a crush on me since middle school. She isn't subtle, but she hasn't confessed and I haven't brought it up because I'm not interested and I don't want to hurt her or lose her as a friend. S has caught me checking her mom out a few times, one time even walking in on me in the bathroom while I was trying to lowkey check out her mom in the pool through the window. I don’t think she ever put together what was going on, though.

I never planned on acting on my feelings for her mom, but since her dad took off, I'm pretty sure I've been getting flirty vibes from S's mom? I might be seeing what I want to see instead of what's there, but like... Okay, so, this summer she's been paying me to do some of the housework her husband used to take on. Mowing the lawn and stuff. And S's mom will come out with just a towel on to tell me I missed a spot. To me, that seems flirty.

I never thought I'd have a chance, but now that it seems I might, I kind of wanna go for it? I mean, I'm 18 now, so it's legal, so I don't see why it would be a problem? But I didn't want to shoot my shot while S is entirely in the dark, so I sat her down and explained. We were hanging out around her pool and her mom wasn't home, I figured it was a good time. I started by finally acknowledging her feelings but gently telling her she just wasn't the girl for me. Then I said straight up "I'm in love with your mom."

S just kinda stared at me? Then she just said "dude, what the fuck" and yeah. Yeah, I know, what the fuck, but the heart wants what it wants, right? I said that I was pretty sure her mom had been making moves since S's dad left. I've never heard S laugh the way she did at that, it was kind of scary. She asked if I was serious and then told me I need serious help. I was a bit hurt by that but I know I'm asking a lot so I didn't go off about it. I just said yes I'm serious and wanted her blessing to act on it. She didn't say anything. She just got up and left, and pushed me into the pool as she passed.

She wouldn't talk to me except to tell me to go home and it's been weeks now but she won't answer my texts. I think I've just lost the two most important women in my life (don't tell my mom she's third pls.) Am I the asshole here? I know it might be wrong, but I can’t help it if I'm in love with Stacy's mom. :(

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #stacey's mom #unreality #good enough to post on purpose #fountains of wayne #lol fixed the tag ty for the heads up #they occupy similar places in my memory i guess

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sweetteainthesummerx · 6 months ago

Text

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (11)

In which the Europe trip starts

series masterlist

Note: this is kind of a filler chapter, but I'll keep updating! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know. Enjoy :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: ready for the next two weeks :)

dior.n.goodjohn replied

GONNA MISS U AND U BETTER COME BACK W A MAN

aubreyyang

gonna pretend I only heard the first part ILL MY U TOO

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang looking for a London boy

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

liked by swift_009, alexandrasaintmleux and 99,003 others

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taylorswift love

-- aubreyyang OH MOTHER

alexandrasaintmleux hâte pour l'europe avec ma belle 💞

-- aubreyyang YAY je peux pas attendre!!

user1 damn she getting brave

user2 someone tell her ollie is from essex

charlesleclerc did u just steal my girlfriend

-- aubreyyang I got tired of third wheeling

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: in London today 🇬🇧

landonorris replied to your story

U ARE NOT SLICK

olliebearman

alexandrasaintmleux posted on their story

alexandrasaintmleux with my boyfriend, his son and my girlfriend

tagged: olliebearman, aubreyyang, charlesleclerc

aubreyyang replied to your story

WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME

alexandrasaintmleux

pls just kiss the tension is wild

Sighing, Aubrey slipped her phone back into her pocket. Alex and Charles meant well, but…Ollie meant too much to her to ever risk ruining their friendship. When he crashed, she remembered halting the scene they were blocking because of the sheer amount of notifications she was getting. Her phone dropped out of her hand when she read the first headline, one of the assistants catching it and placing it back into her shaky grip. She felt tears welling up at the photo of the mutilated car. Finally, when he picked up, the relief had hit her like a tsunami. She was afraid of what this sweet boy could make her feel.

“I’ve got it.” Ollie came up behind her in the aisle, chest pressed up against her back, long arms looping around to hoist her (very heavy) luggage easily into the over head storage.

The last time they'd seen each other in person was the club in London. Even then, when they'd only known each other for a little bit, he had given her a hug, guided her where to go, held her drink for her...

And she realized that he was such a touchy feely person and she loved it.

She flashed him a grateful smile in thanks, and tucked herself into the window seat. She watched as he put his much smaller luggage up and helped the elderly woman behind him too.

As she watched him, she realized something. Obviously, he was tall. His mom, Terri, as the older woman insisted Aubrey call her, had shown her some photos of his teenage years, lanky and stretched, with big hands and feet like a huge puppy. But he was one of the tallest on the grid now, the growth spurts of youth still seemingly present. But she hadn’t noticed how broad he’d gotten. Sure, he’d been toned when they met, and she’d been very taken by his arms, but his shoulders looked so wide in his blue sweatshirt and his neck so thick. His chest was maybe four of her hands outstretched. She wanted to check. For science, of course.

He sidled back to her, long legs stretching put and bumping hers.

“Excited?” He grinned, and she had to smile herself.

“It’s a two hour flight, Bearman.”

“Yeah, so we have lots of time. What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?” She laughed, a little shocked.

“No, I’m serious.” He poked her arm, “We hardly talk about this stuff. I want to know you better.”

“Red. I think I really like red.”

charles_leclerc posted

charles_leclerc bread. beer. bon.

liked by charl_locklerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 990,226 others

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charl_locklerc yo who took that photo of him and Alex

aubreyyang never eating a pretzel again

-- charles_leclerc this is why you pace yourself

-- aubreyyang you would know

-- user1 THE SHADE BAJAJA

-- user2 CONFIRMED SHES WITH THEM IN GERMANU HIEFJIEK

olliebearman don't tell them about the beer

--bearheartxx WHAEJOT HES WITH THEM TOO HIM AND AUBREY HAVE TO BE DATING RIGHT RIGHT

aubreyyang posted to their story

caption: pretty view 🏞️

olliebearman replied to your story

pretty girl more like

aubreyyang

I had a very handsome photographer

dallas_liu replied to your story

BRING ME BACK BREAD PLS

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: actually pretty wild

f1wagsupdate posted

clip one: a video taken from afar on a grainy iPhone camera, four figures walking out of a club in Berlin, Germany. It zooms in, and we see that it is two renowned Ferrari drivers, Leclerc and Bearman. Walking between them with linked arms are Saint Mleux and Yang.

f1wagsupdate during the f1 summer break, Ferrari drivers Leclerc and Bearman are seen with girlfriend and potential girlfriend partying in Germany.

liked by f1girlypop, user1 and 8620 others

f1girlypop YES WERE ABOUT TO GET SUCH GOOD CONTENT

user1 manifesting this is real PLS

user2 stop the hand placement 😫 Ollies hand on her back

cutiesgrid24 the height difference is everything my cousin was there and she said right after that video he picked her up and carried her because her heel broke

-- user1 WIEHFIJOE I just went into cardiac arrest THATS SO CUTEE

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237

#f1 drivers #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #ollie bearman x female reader #Ollie Bearman x female character #mutual pining #social media au #formula 2 #friends to lovers #celebrity!reader #actress!reader #director!reader

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haveateadude · 6 months ago

Text

bleak horizons

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ yeah, okay. maybe you're sad.

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ depression, self-harm, mommy issues (dw there's A LOT of fluff and cuddles and hugging and it all ends up alright) this is just talked about but it can still be triggering!!!!! pls take care of yourselves!!!!!!!! my dms are open :)

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ wasn't planning on posting this but i love validation. also, this is not like cannon ellie i guess?? i did a really bad characterization bc i used this as a vent and i just wanted comfort lmao. hope this still makes y'all feel seen or fucking something. btw this first part is really boring hehe, i wrote this when i was in a rush and in a train and i was tired and sad so i don't mind if it flops lol

i hate this so much idk why i'm posting this as my first pots. aghh. here u go ig. don't hate on me. bye.

(not proofread, sorry abt that)

pt1 — pt2 — pt3

you look so out of it

pull it together

we can love you

forever and ever

I've recently moved in with Ellie after weeks of looking for someone to move in.

I had checked other apartments, but this was the one that didn't smell like there was a corpse under my feet, hidden from the light beneath the floor and it didn't look like it was haunted by ghosts. The walls weren't chipping away, also, so that was a plus. There's no denying that getting used to living with someone else was difficult, but it was the only alternative to live away from my parents. Not to mention I had developed feelings for Ellie—she's beautiful, with those eyes and auburn hair, and her tattoos just make her look fucking badass.

After a few weeks, I settled in with her: we both have a routine, and established unspoken rules, and now it's comfortable living with her.

Tonight was a lovely night—I had already finished everything I had to do, and I didn't have an exam until next week, probably—until I got a call from my mother. I know I can't run away from this one. She always threatens to unroll me from college and take me home when I don't answer her calls. And I know she's capable of doing so.

“Hello?” I said as I went out to the kitchen, to take a glass of water.

“You know, most people say something sweet when they answer their mother.”

I roll my eyes, even if she can't see me. It was just a fucking hello.

“What happened, Mom?” I ask, not wanting to fight.

She takes a second to answer, “Well—I was looking at some resources and there are a lot near your area…”

“Resources about what?”

“Therapy. Conversion therapy.”

It takes all of myself not to gasp, or cry. I don't know. I hear Ellie going out of her room, and walking towards the kitchen. I don't care if she's here; I haven't been caring about anything these past few days.

“Okay,” Is all you say. I don't know how to answer, or what to do. I leave the glass on the aisle with trembling hands.

“That's all you have to say?”

“I—I don't know what you want me to say.”

“‘Thank you’, maybe?” I stay quiet, I don't want to thank her, I don't want her to speak to me ever again. “You could also get therapy for, you know…”

“For what, mother?”

“The cutting. Your scars—I always thought they looked repulsive. No one is going to lov—”

I hung up before she could say anything else. I hate her. I hate my mother. I can't even believe she's a mother, let alone mine. I suddenly feel the need to hurt, and I hate to admit it, but my mother has always been right about the way they look—so I just shut my eyes and try to breathe. It always helps—deep breathing, that is. I have to remind myself that I'm clean. I've been clean for months. Maybe even a year, I lost count.

“You okay?”

Ellie's voice almost makes me flinch, already having forgotten about her. I open my eyes as she walks over to me and lays her elbows on the aisle, while I rest my back on the counter behind her.

I look at her, with a knot in my throat, “I'm fine.”

“Your mother…” She makes a pause, short enough to not make me go crazy, “Is she, like, a pain in the ass?”

I chuckle at that as I cross my arms, “Yeah.”

“If it gets too bad, you can talk to me. I don't mind. And my dad has some contacts, we can maybe scare your mother away.”

“It's okay,” I tell her with a smile. “I can manage.”

“I know,” She smiles, and I can feel my heart fluttering in my chest.

Before I say anything I regret, I go to your room with my door open—a technique I've acquired to avoid hurting myself.

I sit at my desk and look up conversion therapy first, I want to know what this is all about—I know that it's harmful to people in the community, that it leaves you screwed and fucked up. I don't like what pops up on my screen, so I close the tab and go to another one—where I search for therapy. The real one.

I went to a lot of therapy sessions, but my mother was always behind them, so I don't know if it ever was effective. I like this one a lot better. It should be helpful. It will help, I know that for a fact.

I'm having dinner with Ellie, which we normally do—today we ordered, since we were hungry and it always takes a little while to prep a meal—when I think to ask her about the topic.

“Do you know any therapy center?” I ask her. “Or the number of a therapist? Whatever.”

If she's curious, she doesn't show it. She stops chewing on her food, then looks at me; then continues to chew, and after she swallows she speaks, “Sure, I have some friends that go to the same therapist, so it's completely trustworthy, I guess. I can ask for the number.”

I wipe my mouth with the napkin on my side, “Yeah, that'd be alright.”

Ellie takes a sip from her cup and then looks at me, “You okay, though…?”

“I'm fine, just—you know, making sure everything's okay.”

She nods, “Got it—I was just asking.”

After my first therapy session, I ended up tired. My therapist—which feels weird to say out loud and even in my head—is a nice lady in her thirties who looks like a hippie.

I've realized I tend to lie a lot—I didn't talk about self-harm or my mother. Or anything else, really. Just about the movie Speak, and then almost cried when talking about the weather.

So, “Yeah, it went well,” is my answer when Ellie asks how it went, sitting in her car. She picked me up since I had taken my car to maintenance.

“Okay, then,” she says once the car engine starts. She connects her phone to Bluetooth, and we listen to music for a while. Ellie places her hand on my knee when I start bouncing my leg, which sends shivers down my spine and gives my brain something to think of that isn't any of my shit. “Do you want to go eat something?”

“Sure,” I accept. Her thumb makes little circles on my knee. I wonder if she knows what she's doing, her eyes are still fixated on the road. My heart does the flutter thing that it did a few days back again, and my core heats up.

She doesn't want you, I try to convince myself. She's your friend, she doesn't want you. She will fall in love with you, not your brain nor your scars, and when she finds out about the way you think she'll leave.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we ordered a plate together, since we always share and the food here comes in big sizes that we wouldn't finish if we ate it separately.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we order a plate together, since we always share and the food here comes in big sizes that we won't finish if we ate it separately.

“So, how's work?” I ask when we're waiting for our food.

“It's going well, I guess.”

“You guess?”

"I just hate my boss."

I furrow my eyebrows, “do you want to talk about it?”

“It's fine, he just sucks. But well, Jesse is postulating to—you know, be a boss; that fucker.”

I chuckle, “Well, I like Jesse.” I soon realize what I said, and my cheeks go red. “Not in a, uh, romantic way or anything. You know. Fuck. He's just nice.”

“Just nice?”

“I like you better than him,” I blurt out, which only adds to my embarrassment.

Oh, oh.

I like Ellie.

Fuck, yeah. You do.

Who am I kidding, I knew I did. From the start—from the first time she looked at me, for the first time touched my hand and spoke to me; for the first time she played guitar for me and made dinner because she knew how tired I was.

Ellie is flushed. I can tell.

“Oh, do you?” She asks with a grin.

The waitress comes with our food, and leaves the plate. I look at her, she looks at me at Ellie and then leaves.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and lay my elbow on the table, with my chin propped up in my hand.

“What if I do?”

She bites her lip, looks at mine and then at the food, “The food's getting cold.”

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Did that actually happen, or was it my imagination? Holy shit. Shit! Fucking fuck.

It leaves me thinking, but my thoughts leave when I hear her laughter after I crack a joke.

We take the stairs up the apartment, and we laugh all the way up. We just laugh and laugh and laugh because she said something and now I'm almost falling to the floor from how much my stomach hurts.

“Stop,” I say when we get to our apartment door. I keep laughing because Ellie's laughing too and she can't open the door. “My stomach hurts.”

She looks at me and laughs. Idiot. I laugh, too.

“Hey!” We hear our neighbor say. “Quiet down!”

“We're sorry!” I exclaim back, as he closes his door.

Ellie giggles, “You're so fucking dumb, I'm not sorry at all.”

“Shut up,” I say.

“Oh, make me.”

And then—oh, god—and then, and then she looks at me as the curvature of my lips goes down, and then I kiss her.

I kissed her. I fucking did. Me, not her—not Ellie's brave and confident ass, but mine. The butterfly in my chest flutters harder when she kisses back. She puts both of her hands on my waist and deepens the kiss, while my hand moves from her cheeks to her neck, then finds its way to her torso.

Ellie manages to open the door without breaking the kiss, and then she shuts the door with her foot.

“We should—” I speak between kisses. “Ellie—couch.”

“Yeah, okay. Okay.”

Our tongues fight, but our souls mend and I find my way to her in every sense.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #mental health awareness #ellie williams x y/n #wlw #lesbian #depression awarness #idk what is this #fic #emwrites ; ⋆

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plutosfallenangel · 2 years ago

Text

Random Moon Sign Observations | pt.II

(*based on personal experiences and opinions. look at the whole natal chart to gain complete insight, some aspects/house placements can make contradictions to the below information*)

• Scorpio Moon •

-always watching, taking it all in..

-knows most of the answers to questions before they ask

-dry humor (which I personally love)

-passionate about whatever they put their mind to, no half or 50% effort (they do have to be emotionally bonded to the person or hobbie/task, if not, they're redirecting their energy elsewhere)

-prone to becoming hyperfocused on one specific thing (most times to their detriment)

-mommy issues (but they don't talk about them, and hate when you assume you know the relationship dynamic, it's a very unique relationship dynamic and overtime it can grow to be stronger or more distant)

-deep conversations if they trust you, which is hard to gain. Trust is earned through sacrifice most times.. even if something small, they need to see you prove your loyalty and trust)

-the one I would call to bury a body (jokes pls)

-doesn't like to make assumptions, uses their earned knowledge on human behavior, they will study those around them like a case study, only to come to their own conclusions after seeing all the "facts". They can be extremely patient in this act too... they want to know you from the inside out

-sensitive to shifts in the mood, but again.. most times they will keep this information inside and watch, study you to see why it shifted

• Sagittarius moon •

-life of the party (unless heavy earth placements, bedtime comes sooner than later especially with age)

-will be the one you can call to come help you get your car stuck out of the mud, or go biking in the backwoods.. just down for anything and personally I love that about them

-can be too concerned about keeping the good times rolling, doesn't always directly express emotions.. but it's more like a dark joke, everything is turned into a joke, you just need to decipher it most times. And if it's not turned into a joke, they will laugh after they tell you horrible news. Imo a defense mechanism

-may lack boundaries when it comes to those they connect with emotionally, this isn't always a bad thing, they're coming from a place of exploration... like "how far can you and I go?" However sometimes I find they are the most capable of staying in bad situations, always trying to see the good in everyone

-can start a campfire with their bare hands, or atleast minimal tools, very attracted to fire.. find them near a fire all year round if its possible for them to do so

-can sometimes be sneakier than Scorpio moons.. when they set their eye on something in the distance that they want, they go about it most times in silence (this does depend on which house the moon is in)

-big lovers, big emotions, and larger than life dreams

-facial expressions for DAYS! I love how expressive they are.. warm smiles

-definitely rebellious in their younger years

-doesn't like to be tied down by family, but can adapt (most often moves away from mother)

• Capricorn moon •

- lives by the work hard, play harder motto

-always learns the hard way, doesn't like to take advice, rather learn through experience

-tells you like it is when you ask for relationship advice

-too many responsibilities when they were young, even if they had a good solid foundation growing up and were provided for, the expectations put on them were very heavy

-its never "how are you feeling", more "do you need anything?" and I love them for it

-happiest when they're putting themselves into something they can build on long-term, when they don't have that they can spiral FAST

-these people can drink.. and when I say drink, they're the ones to clear a 12-pack and act like they're still sober (from my experience lol)

-in my experience is much of a mommy's girl/boy as cancer moons are (esp when they're young.. they always want to take care of their mom)

-very in tune with the weather, I notice they most times have allergies or can feel a storm coming from how their body reacts

-big provider energy, but they can feel like they can't accept help from others, and end up toughing out the storm by themselves.. this is often from early childhood experiences that breed the need for extreme independence in some form

• Aquarius moon •

-they are on their own energetic wavelengths together, all aqua moons come here for a very specific reason that aligns with what society needs to be shifted/changed.. no matter how big or small the reputation they have they make an impact on those around them. Most are well-known in their local community

-big futures/big dreamers.. these people can see themselves 10 years down the road when you ask them where they'll be, they might not have a CLUE how to get there (depending on the rest of the chart) but they'll always have a sense of direction intuitively on how to get there

-can become way too overanalyzing of their own feelings and that of others.. over thinkers. They can have a hard time reading emotional encounters in the moment.. they need some time to brew with it, read into it, and for them it's easy to sit with these memories of emotion because aqua is a fixed sign

-there is an inner hermit that exists within all of them, do NOT disturb them during their hermit hours

-doesn't give much energy out to people who do them wrong, or atleast out loud to others. They love to share stories about other people, but aren't the first ones to bring up drama when it happens

-their mom is supportive of their endeavors and always wishes the best for them.. I've never met an aqua moon that didn't have a supportive mom (again this does depend on the whole chart, esp 12H moons)

-naturally creative, most I know are very passionate about creative projects and can easily bury themselves in one for long periods of time

-most times they hate having to cancel plans, not because they dont want to go, it's because they hate feeling like they let someone down

-if they invite you to their house, they will make sure you feel at home

-big social circles, few close friends that understand them

-loves to share their viewpoints, but can have bad memories lol they tend to "misplace" memories, you never know what will trigger an old forgotten memory to come up only to dissappear again

-very smart, loves YouTube videos, emotional comfort documentaries

• Pisces Moon •

-can become their mothers "mother" in a sense, their mom might rely on them a lot

-doesnt mind crying infront of others, and for me I admire this... let it out!! There's NO shame in it! (Just don't do it to manipulate others obv)

-vivid imagination, lucid dreamers, I have a 12H moon and often find myself bonding over dream stories with them

-doesn't mind disappearing until they feel up to being social, just don't forget to check in on them, they love compassion

-i often see when they share their emotions and unfortunate stories with others that it causes them to open up too, they love to hold emotional space for people especially those closest

-can often feel the "blame" from others even if it's not theirs, they can feel like they're always doing something wrong or someone is upset and it is because of them, which is most often not the case

-will decorate with a lot of pastels or a wide variety of colors in their home

-the best mentors in their life are women

-journals, journals, journals... let me into your mind palace

-soft poets, or amateur artists, this moon sign expresses a lot of emotion through art. Art helps them put a finger on how they're feeling. They channel divine messages and emotions through a craft, and even if it's not their own art they are connecting with, they will resonate with it and pass a message along to others that helps them understand something they need to at the time

-either early bedtime or no bedtime at all, creature of the night or morning star.. there's no in between with them

-being alone helps them process the most. Especially the shower lol they can process days worth of emotions in the shower I'm convinced

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #moon signs #astro community #astrology community #scorpio #scorpio moon #sagittarius moon #capricorn moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon

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riveroftales · 2 months ago

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😗Ummm…. Do you think you could do a little Drabble or some HCs about Genya with a mom figure? Like, maybe Himejima gets married and his wife meets Genya and is determined to give him a stable family and a good female role model. Like sure he totally ignores or is embarrassed by her at first but then she makes him food or cuts up watermelon for him 🥺 Maybe he eventually opens up to the “mom” and she tries to help him untangle all his teenage anger. MY POOR BOY NEEDS A FAMILY AND HIMEJIMA CANT DO IT ALONE. (Also pls feel free to ignore if you don’t like the prompt. Tysm I love your writing and the blind Genya AU kills me in the best way possible)

➳ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ

𝖢𝖢'𝗌 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾: AHHH IM SO SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE MY EXAMS LITERALLY START THIS THURSDAY AND IVE BEEN CRYING BECAUSE OF IT🥹

Himejima was like a father to Genya. His father was an asshole, so having a good role model made Genya adore him so much more.

He loved his mother. His mother was gentle, smiled a lot and despite being weak, she was able to protect.

He didn’t have anyone in his life to replace his mother and he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until Himejima got married.

Genya was beyond happy that Himejima got the chance to fall in love with someone who loved him and who he loved back, but he didn’t know how to approach the new addition to their tiny family of two.

The poor boy’s cheeks would always flare up intensely whenever he saw you. At first, you thought he genuinely liked you which led you to reject him politely during the hashira training one day in front of everyone else.

It was after Genya passed out from embarrassment when Tanjiro told you Genya just got nervous around every girl whether he liked them or not.

Genya was basically your son, so you had a mission to get him to think of you as a mother.

Even though he ignored you at most times, you managed to talk to him even if he didn’t respond. You opened up about everything and told tales of your past.

You ruffled his hair often with a soft smile before you always went up to your husband to kiss his large hand since he was far too tall for you to kiss his cheek.

Genya stayed up late often to train, so you also started staying up to make him little snacks occasionally.

You would call his name and give him a small plate of a few pieces of onigiri and smile when you see his eyes light up as he ate. Your favourite part was occasionally surprising him with another small plate of watermelon cut into adorable shapes.

You really babied him a lot. He was a huge kid, but you couldn’t help it. Genya was like a shy tiger.

The kid occasionally started warming up to you and he started initiating conversations. He could see the way your eyes lit up every time he made effort into your relationship.

You often say together with the three of them, showing them how to make some of your dishes. Himejima would help with the cutting and washing, while you guided Genya with the cooking.

You cried for the first time in years in your husband’s arms after Genya had left for a mission and he had said, “Bye, mom! I’ll be back soon! Please make a lot of food for me when I get back!”

You obeyed your baby’s request. How could you not? You loved seeing the hidden joy in his face whenever you fed him some food directly. Himejima smiled to himself when he heard the laughter his newfound family let out. He was beyond thankful to the gods above that he was alive to experience something so precious.

Genya soon realised that you weren’t his mother. You were never his mother, and you would never be his mother, but he would love you the same. He loved his mother, but he also loved you. His mother taught him how to love because it was all she could teach before she passed, while you helped teach him the rest.

You were there to hold him when he cried in your shoulders on the day his older brother nearly blinded him. You didn’t judge him for eating demons. You didn’t look down at him when he confessed he couldn’t use breathing forms.

You were there for everything. You were there during both Genya’s and Himejima’s sparring sessions, you were there to cook for your family, you were there to listen, you were there to love them. You were even there when Himejima had to leave abruptly to the demon amuse headquarters after an emergency meeting was announced. You were there when you saw Genya fall in the trapdoors on the floor which appeared so suddenly because you didn’t have a good feeling of leaving him alone, making you run up to his training ground to retrieve your son.

You ran as fast as you could when your husband’s kasugai crow led you to where the big battle was happening, only reaching during daybreak.

You felt your heart drop and tears sting your eyes when you saw corpses everywhere, but the sight of your unmoving husband was the only thing you were focused on.

The kakushi had to hold you back even when you screamed at the top of your lungs, yelling at Himejima to open his eyes.

You choked on your tears when you asked about Genya, your son. You knew he was also gone from the silence you received.

You couldn’t even cry anymore. Your eyes just closed before you passed out.

You woke up with a message from Sanemi that Genya had turned into ashes. Your little boy didn’t have a body to bury, meaning he’ll never have a proper funeral.

You folded Genya’s clothes really neatly and placed it in your dead husband’s arms as he laid so beautifully in the casket. You placed your son’s gun on top of his uniform, unable to watch the burial since tears were blurring your vision.

You woke up the next day, wishing you could feel the weight of Genya’s leg over your stomach as he slept in the most atrocious position ever while Himejima’s arms refused to let you go even in sleep one last time.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #genya shinazugawa #gyomei himejima #kny himejima #demon slayer himejima #kimetsu no yaiba genya #demon slayer fluff #kimetsu no yaiba fluff #himejima x reader #genya angst #himejima angst #demon slayer angst #kimetsu no yaiba angst

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asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

gorgeous - lhs

"you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you / and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room" - gorgeous by taylor swift

series masterlist - part one - part two - part three

prompt 45 of the 100 kisses list, "we shouldn't do this" but they do so anyway

pairing. best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis. Heeseung comes back from his first year of university a new man - forget nervous, fidgety, dorky Heeseung and say hello to confident, teasing, flirty Heeseung. This change of attitude doesn't help your longstanding crush on your best friend's brother, and neither does the rising tension between the two of you - a tension that is bound to explode. genre. f2l, did i mention this was a best friend's brother au?, only fluff in this part but more to come, perhaps suggestive due to tension between reader and hee and makeout session lol word count. 8.1k (yes an asahicore fic under 10k thank u very much) a/n. hi loves i'm super happy to be posting this bc its the very first fic out of the 100 kisses event and its a project im really excited about !!! i know i said like 2 days ago it'd take me a while to write this but i got super motivated over the weekend and it turned out shorter than i thought and bestie @k-ingzo zo did a super amazing job at beta reading this so i was able to post it really quickly !! anyways hope you enjoy this, pls lmk,, and hope u look forward to the rest of the series as well !! ok bye

Nine years ago

“Y/N, honey, come meet your new friends!”

You rushed down the stairs at your mom’s call - at eight, you were always excited by the idea of new friends. She’d also called Naeun down, but lately, your sister had been acting like doing anything your parents asked her would cost her her life.

There in your living room were four unfamiliar faces, but your parents were smiling warmly, so you weren’t too nervous. Instinctively, you found your mother’s side and she rested her hand on your head, bending down to talk to you.

“Y/N, these are the Lees, they’ve just moved to the neighborhood.”

“Hi,” you greeted shyly, and were met with four hi’s in return.

“Heeseung and Seeun here started going to the same school as you,” she informs, nodding her head towards the young boy and girl. Now that she said it, the boy looked really familiar. You thought you recognized him from school that day - his glasses were definitely memorable. “And Seeun is the exact same age as you!” Your face lit up at that, and her expression mirrored yours as her lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you show her your room?”

“Sure! Come on,” you said, holding out your hand for Seeun to take. She looked back at her parents who were nodding vigorously at her to follow you. You just played for half-an-hour, and Heeseung joined you quickly, saying he was bored with the adults downstairs. He didn’t talk much, instead found some of your toys to play with in his own corner.

When the Lees left, you were thinking two things: one, you couldn’t wait to tell Chaeyeong about Seeun, and two, that boy with the big glasses was really, really cute.

Now

“Seeun, why the hell didn’t you tell us that your brother is a mega-hottie now?!”

This is what your friend Chaeyeong whisper-screams in lieu of a greeting as she barges in Seeun’s room, plopping down on her bed like it was her own. It might as well have been, considering how long the three of you had known each other.

“If you ever refer to my brother as a mega-hottie again, I’m terminating this friendship,” Seeun replies, not bothering to look up from the bead bracelet she was currently making.

“Oh please, just because you’re his sister doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed how attractive he’s gotten,” Chaeyeong insists, but it just makes Seeun scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Chaeyeong, please stop making it so obvious you’re an only child,” Seeun sighs. You let out a giggle at your friends’ conversation as you search for another color that could go well with the pink beads you’d chosen for your own bracelet.

Stealthily, Chaeyeong leaves her spot on the bed and sneaks up to you. “Y/N!” she exclaims suddenly, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a sneak-attack hug that makes you yelp. It makes you drop your half-finished bracelet, the beads falling all over the carpeted floor around you. You look up at Chaeyeong with a pout, but she just smiles at you and starts picking up the beads, gathering the tiny pink jewels in the palm of her hand.

“Y/N, you’re with me on this one, aren’t you?”

You ignore Seeun’s side-eye and give in to Chaeyeong’s encouraging expression. “I guess he does look very…” you pause to carefully consider your word choice. “Different,” you settle on.

“Different? That’s it? Y/N, you should really consider getting some glasses, seeing how you’re so blind to hot boys.” Cue a loud groan, Seeun’s courtesy. You just giggle again, slightly shaking your head at Chaeyeong’s antics. She rolled her eyes, disappointed that you didn’t back her up, but she drops the subject and switches to Seeun’s upcoming birthday party. Something great about being generally quiet? People don’t question it when you don’t partake much in a conversation. You listen and laugh as your friends bicker, but your mind is on something else.

Or rather, it’s on someone else.

Because Chaeyeong is absolutely right - Seeun’s brother has glowed up so much during his time away at university that you had a double-take when he opened the door for you earlier.

The sentence this is so unfair plays over and over in your head.

You’d heard of the freshman fifteen, of college first-years being so stressed over grades and having so little time that their diet consisted of instant ramen, quick cafeteria lunches, and an ungodly amount of coffee. And alcohol, on Friday nights, of course. After seeing how freshman year treated your older sister, you were dreading going to college, imagining it to be the complete opposite of what TV and movies had shown you.

So how the hell had Lee Heeseung gone from high school loser to campus hearthrob in the span of a mere nine months? (After some thinking, you realized that, well, if a woman can create a whole human being in nine months, maybe a regular guy can undergo great physical and mental change in that time, too.)

In September, when you’d last seen him, he wore the same glasses he had for all of high school - those slightly crooked ones that made his eyes look even bigger than they already were. He always had to push them back up his nose but he never bothered to get them fixed, even though all they needed was for the arms to be tightened. You remember his tic-like habit of readjusting his glasses, a habit so strong that he did it even when he wasn’t wearing them. Maybe they bothered him so much that he decided to get rid of them once and for all, you guess.

Indeed, when he greeted you at his front door earlier (even after years of knowing Seeun and her family and no matter how much they reassure you that it’s okay, you’re unable to come in without knocking first, like Chaeyeong does), he wasn’t wearing his thick lenses you’d grown fond of. His eyes didn’t look unfocused like they usually would without glasses, so you assumed he’d switched to contact lenses - you knew it wasn’t Lasik surgery, because Seeun was always complaining that her parents wouldn’t pay for her or her brother to receive it.

But it wasn’t just the glasses, of course not. There was an ease and confidence about him that he didn’t have before - no awkward giggles, no darting eyes, no weirdly positioned limbs. He held the door open for you and kept his eyes on you as you walked in, saying it was nice to see you again and asking if you were happy to be done with high school. You already weren’t expecting Heeseung to open the door in Seeun’s stead, so him actually looking at you while he spoke instead of mumbling a few words in your general direction and scratching the back of his neck rendered you completely flustered, cheeks heating up embarrassingly quickly.

His hair was different: it used to sit there atop Heeseung’s head, unsure what to do with itself, but now it was purposefully cut and slightly pushed back. When he turned his head, you saw something shiny dangling from his left ear.

Heeseung had a piercing. Shy, nervous, fidgety electronics club president Heeseung had a goddamn piercing, and it looked amazing.

And then he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh, and then ruffle your hair. You could’ve died right then and there. “You’re still just as cute as before,” he mused, beaming down at you. Then he walked away towards the living room, saying Seeun was in her room upstairs. As if nothing happened. As if you weren’t on the verge of combusting, your saving grace being your friend’s voice calling out your name. You ran up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from Heeseung and his smile and his voice and his touch as possible. You busied yourself with the pearls and the small bracelet-making station Seeun had organized, trying not to think about the vein that ran down his forearm or about how his shoulders looked wider than before. And you’d managed to do that, until Chaeyeong brought him up.

It wasn’t unfair because he’d grown mysteriously hot - it was unfair because to you, Heeseung had always been the cutest boy around, but now other people had surely noticed too, Chaeyeong amongst them. Now, you were just one of the many girls that had a crush on Heeseung, even if yours dated back to the first time you’d met him when the Lees moved into the neighborhood.

Their parents had been delighted that two girls of their daughter’s age - eight, to be precise - lived on their street. You were delighted that the cute boy you’d seen at school that day was her big brother, just one year older. Chaeyeong and you gladly welcomed Seeun into your friendship and you had each other’s back through the awkward phases of your early teenage years and the stressful times as high school seniors getting ready for college. You shared everything - clothes, jewelry, homework answers, gossip, tears, laughter. Secrets.

You liked to think there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about them, but you couldn’t say the opposite was true - there was a secret you had to keep from them. A secret that grew bigger and bigger as time passed, but that you needed to keep locked in.

You had the biggest crush known to mankind on your best friend’s brother. It was either keep quiet or tell both of your friends; you trusted Chaeyeong, but you didn’t want her to carry that burden. You had no idea what Seeun’s reaction would be if you admitted you liked her brother, but you didn’t want to risk it. Every best friend’s brother (or brother’s best friend) romance you’d read had told you that the former was always against and deeply disgusted by the idea of their friend dating the latter. The last thing you wanted to do was make things weird, so you said nothing and suffered in silence, as one does. And so, for years, Heeseung was your little secret.

But not anymore, apparently. And it felt unfair. You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with, but now, getting with Heeseung was inimaginable. You’d just have to continue pining from far away, just as you’d gotten used to.

Four years ago

Your heart pounded as you made your way to the bus stop, steps heavy and head full of thoughts. Even though your older sister told you there’s nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help it. You were used to walking to school, not taking the bus. After three years of seeing the same people roaming the hallways, it was nerve-wracking to arrive at a place where most faces would be completely unfamiliar. You didn’t know what your teachers would be like, you were scared your classes would be a hundred times harder than before, you heard the cafeteria food was really bad. In short, you were absolutely dreading high school. And today was your first day.

The only thing that calmed you down was knowing that in a few minutes, you’d be with Seeun and Chaeyeong, and just seeing them would make you feel instantly better. You were meeting at the bus stop.

But when you reached it, neither of your friends were there. You shouldn’t have been surprised, since you’d come ten minutes early, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. That is, until you recognized someone else.

“Heeseung?” you called out before you could stop yourself. The boy snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes widened at the sight of you. Simple things like that made your heart burst with adoration for him.

“Oh, h-hi, Y/N.” He smiled the shy smile you loved so much and looked back at his feet, holding on tightly to the straps of his backpack. You stood next to him, close enough to have a conversation if he wanted to but not so close that it’d be weird.

Heeseung was the only person you felt awkward around. Even though you were on the quieter side and strangers weren’t your favorite people per se, being around people you didn’t know well wasn’t your definition of torture like it seemed to be for Heeseung and other kids from your school. But Heeseung’s awkwardness was contagious, and your crush on him didn’t help your ease of mind - so you imitated his posture, swaying back and forth on your feet as you held onto your backpack straps just to have something to hold onto. You smiled at the ground, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by looking at him, but that meant you missed the growing blush on his cheeks.

“So,” he started, “nervous?” He glanced quickly, just once, at you. You were so surprised at his breaking the silence, used to a quiet Heeseung, that you forgot to answer, simply staring at him. His panicked expression and mumblings were what jolted you out of your daze. “I-I mean, you know, cause it’s your first day and everything, and I was really nervous last year- I am today, too, actually- so I thought maybe, you know, you’re nervous too, but maybe you’re not, I don’t-”

He said all of this so quickly, you started laughing, slightly bending over. He let out a chuckle too, but as you continued laughing, a pout started to form on his lips. “What’s so funny…” you heard him grumble as he kicked a non-existent pebble.

“Sorry,” you said, regaining your breath. “I’m sorry, Heeseung.” The sound of his name made him glance at you again. You wished you could kiss the pout off his lips. “I was nervous, actually. But I feel better now.”

A quick smile appeared on his lips, but he willed it away. “I’m glad my embarrassment made you feel better,” he sighed.

You gently kicked his shoe with yours to make him look at you. “No, it’s because you made me laugh. I needed it. Thanks,” you corrected with a smile. Heeseung may have made you feel awkward, but the easiness with which he always got flustered made you love to tease him slightly.

His smile widened as he looked away once more, the blush having spread to his whole face by then. “Whatever,” he murmured. There was no time to say anything else because Seeun called out your name, practically skipping towards you.

She gave you an excited hug as a greeting before turning towards her brother with a glare, punching him hard on the bicep, making him wince in pain and reach his hand to cover his arm where she hit him. “Thanks for waiting for me, loser.”

“You were gonna make us late!” he whined, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, ‘cause I obviously missed the bus,” she tutted.

You watched the siblings with an amused smile, used to the exact same kind of banter at home. Your sister, who was in her last year of high school, had decided not to drive you for some reason only an older sister could make up and pretend was reasonable. Your parents had tried to convince her, but you didn’t mind taking the bus with your friends, so they didn’t push it, just glad they could somehow keep the both of you happy.

Heeseung didn’t say anything in return. Your eyes met for a moment, and his frown relaxed into a smile when he caught your expression. It lasted a second but it was enough to make your stomach twist. Seeun, oblivious, grabbed your arm and started telling you about all the things she was excited about for today. You were worried Chaeyeong wasn’t going to make it, but her footsteps were loud as she ran, reaching you just as the bus stopped in front of you. Heeseung took what you soon found out was his usual spot at the front of the bus while your friends dragged you towards the back of it. You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards the boy with the messy black hair and crooked glasses, but his shy smile replayed in your mind all day. For a year, you’d gotten used to not going to the same school as him - you didn’t know how you’d survive seeing him at least five days a week once again.

Now

You were really determined to not let Heeseung’s newfound confidence sway you, physically shaking your head every time a thought of him popped in your head (useless) and racking your brain for reasons you shouldn’t like him (not many of those). There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

He was making it impossible to pine for him at a distance.

It seemed like everywhere you went, he was there. Maybe that was due to the fact that your most frequently visited place was literally his house, but still. It was frustrating. You didn’t need to be met with his stupid smile whenever he opened the door for you, you didn’t need to catch him cutely napping - how was that even possible?! - in the living room, a random sitcom still playing on the TV, you didn’t need to hear his laughter when his friends were over, and you definitely did not need to see him half-naked as he came out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower and sticking to his forehead, towel wrapped low around his hips and his abs fully on display. Because of course, you had to be in the hallway, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, at the exact same time as him.

You almost start to resent the fact that Seeun had the comfiest bedroom out of the three of you, as well as the most snack-filled house, which was why you had decided years ago to hang out there the most. Especially during school breaks, you were there almost every day, so you were bound to see Heeseung a lot. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to be enough, and over the course of June, you also ran into him while shoe-shopping with your mom, then another time as you entered the public library just when he left it, and another when your friends and his had decided to get ice cream at the same time. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The worst part? Every time he saw you, while you simultaneously wanted to run away from him and into his arms, his damnedly handsome face broke into a stupidly beautiful smile that looked far too genuine for your heart. “Y/N! Funny seeing you here!”

No, Heeseung, not funny.

You didn’t want to be that girl whose brain cells stopped working whenever she encountered an attractive male specimen, but that was apparently who you were meant to be, because all words left you when you saw Heeseung. Although you’d been somewhat flustered around him in the past, he was always much more so than you, which reassured you and gave you enough confidence to actually talk to him. But now that he had realized how handsome he was and was clearly using that newfound knowledge against you (or so you thought), you were unable to string a coherent sentence when his shiny eyes bore into yours.

You think he might’ve sensed your awkwardness, because he never lingered, never made useless small talk, just asked about your favorite ice cream flavor or the book he’d checked out, patted your head, then was on his way.

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you were scared it might fly away.

One afternoon in the middle of July, you and your friends come back from the city pool completely exhausted after playing around for hours in the water. All bundled up and close together, you try to nap on Seeun’s bed. Keyword try, because even though your friends’ soft snores quickly start to fill the silence of the room, you can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how heavy your eyes feel.

Quietly, you get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cold glass of water will help sleep come to you like it usually does. You shouldn’t be surprised to see Heeseung in the dining room/kitchen area, busy with a puzzle, the pieces of which he’s spread out all over the table, but your heart still does a flip. He must be really engrossed in it, because he doesn’t notice your presence in the room until you fill a glass with ice, the sudden sound making his head snap up at you. You hate that his face breaks into a grin as soon as he sees you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! What are you doing?”

“Just getting some water,” you explain, raising your glass with a small smile. Your whole body tells you to run away, back to Seeun’s bedroom, but something in your gut tells you to stay, to get closer to Heeseung. So you do. “What about you?” you ask, slowly making your way towards the table and peering at the puzzle in progress.

“Just whipping up some brownies,” he retorts with a devilish smirk, big eyes looking up at you.

You fight back a smile in vain. “Shut up,” you mumble, but take a seat next to him anyway. He seems slightly taken aback by the sudden proximity, and you are too, but you keep your gaze focused on the puzzle in front of you so that you can’t think too much about how close you’re sitting, and how your knees could touch if you angled them just so.

For a small while you sit in silence, watching as he puts pieces together and even finding a couple of your own. It’s a one-thousand piece jigsaw that he’s clearly only just started, but Heeseung doesn’t seem fazed by that. You like seeing how his eyebrows slightly furrow when he’s searching for a particular piece, and the pleased smirk that graces his lips when he finds it. You break the silence after a few minutes.

“So you still like puzzles, then?” you ask, voice low. You’ve always been told you speak quietly - even too quietly sometimes, but you can’t always help it. Especially in situations like this, when it’s silent around you anyways, you don’t see the point of raising your voice. When Heeseung replies, he speaks at the same volume as you, and there’s something comforting about it, about speaking quietly in such a spacious and sunlit room - the words you share are for you two, and you two only.

“Yep, ever since that day.” He glances quickly at you and smiles at the piece in his hand, and it’s like getting a glimpse of the Heeseung you had known all those years. Your heart warms at the sight.

“That day?”

This makes him look properly at you, his eyes darting back and forth between yours as if searching for something there. Your heart is now on fire. “Don’t you remember?”

You tilt your head in response and he turns his attention back to the puzzle. “It was at this table, too. I think your grandparents- your grandma, I think? Anyway, someone had gotten you a puzzle for your birthday.”

You ‘ah’ in realization. “Of course!”

Two years ago

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this, it’s so complicated,” Seeun pouted apologetically, looking at you sadly. “We’ve been here like an hour and we’ve barely gotten anywhere.”

Chaeyeong, head on the table, groaned in agreement. You followed your friend’s gaze to the puzzle in front of you - she was right, you hadn’t made much progress. But you liked it. The picture was pretty and you’d like to see it completed, but more than that, you liked finding the right piece, figuring out strategies.

You hummed, mirroring Seeun’s pout. Chaeyeong snapped her head back up to look at you. You’d think she hadn’t slept in days, but that was just bored Chaeyeong. You loved your friend and her over-dramatic antics. “Can we just take a break?” she asked, tone like you’d kidnapped and forced her to do this.

“You guys go ahead.” You smiled. “I like it, I can just continue this for a while and you guys do whatever you want.” The three of you spent so much time together that you didn’t need to be doing an activity together to be happy - being in each other’s general vicinity was enough to be considered a hang-out.

“You sure?” Seeun asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” You chuckled at the obvious relief on your friend’s faces. “Just don’t watch the next Extraordinary You episode without me, okay?”

They both gasped and clutched their hearts like you’d accused them of murder. “How could you even think that, Y/N?!” Chaeyeong exclaimed.

“We would never!” Seeun added.

You shook your head at your friends’ antics, laughing as you waved them off. “Just go, already.”

“Yes, ma’am!” And with that, they were off, running up the stairs to Seeun’s bedroom.

You were only on your own for around ten minutes - the front door opened and closed, and the quiet shuffle of shoes being taken off and replaced with slippers let you know Heeseung had just come home. Seeun always made a show of being exhausted after school, groaning as she threw her backpack to the ground, while Mr and Mrs Lee always announced their arrival with a sometimes cheery, sometimes tired ‘I’m home!’. But Heeseung, quiet as always, simply set his backpack next to the stairs, slipped into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, fond of a quick snack after school. Even Chaeyeong made herself more known when she entered the Lee household.

Every day except for Fridays, he came home two hours later than his sister because of either magic or electronics club (yes, magic club. It was cute, okay?!). You always looked forward to the monthly meeting of the book club you were in, partly because it meant you could take the bus back with Heeseung afterwards. Even if the ride was usually mainly silent, just sitting next to him was enough for your heart to do all sorts of tricks worthy of an Olympic gymnast.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted softly, probably surprised at seeing you alone at the dinner table.

“Hi, Heeseung. How was the electronics club?” You wanted to make conversation, but you winced immediately at your words - was it normal for you to know what club he had on what days?

But Heeseung seemed to pay it no mind, just smiling shyly, a blush already creeping on his cheeks. “It was nice, thanks.” He opened the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. “Do you want a glass?” When you didn’t respond immediately, he was quick to add, “Of milk? O-or orange juice? Or I can make some tea, if you want-”

His hands were already busy with preparing whatever drink he thought you might want. You held back a chuckle and smiled as you answered, “Milk is fine, thanks.”

His blush spread all the way down his neck and you turned your attention back to the puzzle so he wouldn’t see your grin. “Right, milk. Milk,” he stammered, then got two glasses out of the cupboard.

You loved moments like these with Heeseung - flustered, light-hearted, slightly awkward, moments that made you want to giggle out of nerves and delight. Basically every moment with him was like this, so it’d be more accurate to say you loved every moment with him.

“I didn’t know you liked puzzles,” he said, an upward tilt to his voice, as he set your glass next to you and took a seat across from you. He peered down at the pieces spread out in front of you, fixed his glasses on his nose, and took a big gulp of milk.

“I didn’t either,” you said with a chuckle, and stammered out an explanation when he looked up at you questioningly. “My, um, my grandma gave this to me for my birthday last month. She’s got a lot of grandkids, you know, and I think she might’ve mixed up my other cousin who likes puzzles and me…” Heeseung nods slowly, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement. “But I don’t mind it,” you add, “I’m having fun, actually. Seeun and Chaeyeong are of a different mind, though. It’s a bit hard doing it on my own but I like it anyway.”

“I can help you,” he suddenly blurted out, and he looked just as surprised at his words as you were. “If you want.”

You smiled at him, and Heeseung and you actually looked at each other, actually held eye contact for three seconds, until you felt your face burn and had to look away. “Sure, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Although it took some time to finish the puzzle - putting 500 pieces together was a lot trickier than you thought it’d be - Heeseung and you managed to do it, high fiving celebratorily after almost two hours of hard work.

Now

“I just had a lot of fun that day.” Heeseung shrugs. “Plus, I already liked things like Legos and Rubik’s cubes, so it made sense I’d like puzzles, too.”

You nod in response, watching as he twirls a puzzle piece between his thumb and middle finger. “It’s funny that my grandma’s mistake is what made you discover your love for puzzles.”

Heeseung chuckles along with you, and you’re relieved the atmosphere is somewhat lighter than before until he looks straight into your eyes, locking your gaze in his own, and a breath gets trapped in your throat. “I’m glad she did that, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape, when he looks away with a smirk and turns his attention back to the puzzle, analyzing it seriously as if nothing happened. You come back to your senses after a few seconds, clearing your throat before imitating Heeseung and trying to focus on the puzzle once again. But that’s hard to do when your hands brush ever-so-slightly every time you fumble around the pile for a particular piece, or every time he hits your knee with his, inadvertently or to tease you, you’re not sure.

The first thing to do when starting a puzzle is looking for all the side pieces to build the frame. When Heeseung spots one in the pile next to you, he leans in to grab it, and he’s suddenly close enough for you to get a whiff of his cologne that had faded over the day. You think he’ll just take the piece and sit back in his seat, but instead, he turns his head towards you, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. Close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to close the gap and have your lips on his - just as the thought hits you, his eyes drift down to your parted lips. Is he thinking the same thing?

You take a sharp breath in, eyes fixed on Heeseung, mind racing with thoughts and assumptions of what might be going through his head right now. But your brain goes haywire when a smirk blooms on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction. His gaze finds your eyes once more and he raises the piece between the two of you, in the small space that separates you. “Got it,” he says quietly, voice lower than usual. It makes your insides melt. He could be very well talking about you - he’s got you absolutely wrapped around his finger, and he seems to know it.

He turns back to the puzzle, smirk still on his lips, and you’re so embarrassed and confused that your flight instinct kicks in. The screech of your chair as you push it back and stand up makes Heeseung look up at you again, his smirk having dissolved in surprise and - disappointment?

No time to ponder, you need to get. out. of. here.

“Right, well, that was fun, haha,” you breathe out, actually saying the word ‘haha’ and wanting to run away even more thereafter. “I should probably head back to the girls, now.” You’re already backing up and walking away when Heeseung calls out your name, but you just turn around and rush back upstairs, yelling out a small “bye, Heeseung!” on your way.

You’re already back in Seeun’s bedroom when Heeseung shakes his head at your sudden disappearance, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Cute,” he says under his breath.

To minimize any chances of running into Heeseung, over the next two weeks, you ask Chaeyeong and Seeun if you could hang out at your house more often, using the excuse that you want to spend as much time as possible there before leaving off to college. They don’t question it too much - next year, they’ll be able to come back fairly regularly to their parent’s houses, since the college they’re going to is less than an hour-long car ride away, but you’ll be further away, too far to come back home often.

It just so happens to be the university Heeseung is studying at, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. They had one of the best English Lit programs in your area and you’d been wanting to go there for all of your high school years - you used to think of Heeseung’s going there as a pro, but right now, it felt more like a con.

You manage to only run into him twice over the course of those two weeks, and both times, just in passing. But now it’s the night of Seeun’s birthday party and it’s impossible to pretend he isn’t there even when you’re in a crowded room together. Heeseung and Seeun’s parents have lended their house for their kids to have a party there, using it as an opportunity to have a date night, and Heeseung and his friends have graciously provided a big portion of the alcohol, saying it was their birthday gift.

You aren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, so you opt for the fruitier, lighter drinks, but still, two hours after the party starts, you can already feel your head start to spin, your voice is louder, everything makes you laugh. When a friend from school tells you they’re playing seven minutes in heaven in the hallway upstairs, you think that's the funniest thing you’ve ever heard and immediately agree to join.

The sight of Heeseung sitting in the circle, already looking at you with a lopsided smile, almost sobers you up completely.

You’d tried to avoid him as best as you could, but it was like you couldn’t escape him - maybe that was due to the fact that the heart of the party was kept to the kitchen and the living room, just a few people sitting on the stairs at the entrance to get away from the noise, but still, it annoyed you to no end that you had to keep seeing him everywhere. Maybe that was also what made the alcohol easier to down.

At some point, you were in the kitchen, doing a shot of God-knows-what with girls from school. You heard his voice before you saw him, and it made you roll your eyes but also your heart skip a beat. “Didn’t know you were such a drinker, Y/N.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and when his face came into view, you wanted to slap it away. Or kiss it away, maybe.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to have fun,” you retorted, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you poured yourself another shot. I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas started playing in the next room and the girls shrieked before rushing to the made-up dancefloor. You wanted to join them, but something kept your feet firmly planted at the kitchen counter.

Before you could bring the shot glass to your lips, however, Heeseung stole it from you and downed it himself. “Hey!” you protested, but it was done, and he was scrunching his nose at the bitter taste, shaking his head. You wished he could stop being attractive for one damn second.

“You don’t need that to have fun.”

He placed his forearms on the kitchen counter and leaned on them, forcing him to look up at you. You had no idea what the hell he meant by that, nor did you want to try and figure it out - all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there with him when he looked at you so intently, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, hair perfectly disheveled and biceps apparent even under his t-shirt sleeves.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you made yourself say, and spun on your heels to join your friends on the dancefloor.

And a few drinks later, here you are, sitting in a circle on the hallway floor, Heeseung right in front of you, leaning back on his palms and looking down at you with that same stupid smirk once again.

The game goes as such: one person spins the bottle twice, and the people it lands on have to go to a bedroom closet for seven minutes (timed carefully by Jake, Heeseung’s friend who is taking this game very seriously) to do whatever they want, while the others occupy themselves with other games. When the seven minutes are up, the doors burst open, and you have to leave the closet.

And because it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise, after a few rounds, the bottle points straight at you, then straight at Heeseung, and before you know it, everyone except for Seeun is cheering, and Heeseung is holding out his hand for you to take, and you do, and he raises you up, and together, you head to his closet, as per the rules of this stupid middle-school game you should never have agreed to play in the first place. You can barely Seeun’s voice as she shouts, “Y/N, I trust you!”, which just makes Chaeyeong burst into laughter and whoop louder for you. You’d also barely registered Heeseung’s friends clapping each other’s backs, smiling like they were in on something.

The sound of the closet door shutting is what snaps you out of your daze. You hadn’t even realized Heeseung had kept your hand in his until he released it, leaning his back against one wall of the closet, facing you. All three bedrooms in the Lees’ house had built-in walk-in closets which meant you weren’t sandwiched between Heeseung and his clothes, but still, you wished you could put more distance between your two bodies - one step closer, and you were done for.

It wasn’t just Heeseung’s presence in the narrow space - it was his scent filling your nostrils, the combined smell of the cologne he was wearing, of the fabric softener on his clothes, and an unfamiliar scent you somehow recognized as unique to Heeseung, his skin, his hair, smells you’d wanted to discover for years but never got close enough to. Well, now you did. And it was intoxicating - you wanted more, wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale. You wanted to know what his reaction would be, if he’d let you, if he’d push you away.

All those thoughts were running wild in your head. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your stomach was in messy knots, your hands were sweaty and you had no idea where to place them, your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the dark room. Everywhere but Heeseung. You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too nervous to meet them.

Your breathing must’ve gotten loud enough for him to hear, because all of a sudden, you feel his hand take yours, and he’s stood up from his position against the wall, his body too close to yours for your heart to handle. His thumb rubs what he must think are comforting semi-circles on the back of your hand, but the touch just destroys any capability of thinking straight you had left.

“Y/N,” he calls out, and the sound of his voice makes your eyes close shut. You cannot give in. You had seen Seeun’s disgusted expression when you and Heeseung were picked for the game - if just the idea of you and her brother kissing repulses her, what would she say if she knew it actually happened, or if you started dating? You may have the biggest crush ever on Heeseung, but no one was worth losing your friendship with Seeun.

“Calm down,” he says, and you wish you could be as steady as his voice. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

This makes you scoff. “You touching me is not helping my nervousness.” The words are out before you can stop them, and in the darkness of the room, you have to concentrate to make out the tilt of Heeseung’s head. You don’t need to see it to know he’s smiling, the satisfied smirk that has been gracing his features for the past month and a half.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

You take your hand out of Heeseung’s and cross your arms over your chest. “You know why,” you say, not intending your voice to come out as weak as it does.

Heeseung takes another step closer to you, and the only ray of light that comes through the panels of the closet door hits his face, making it visible for you to see. “I do, but I want you to tell me.” Another step, making you back up until you hit the wall behind you.

You call out his name shakily. His lips are right in front of you at this point, and you can’t not look at them.

He places a hand delicately on your waist, as if not wanting to scare you off. “Yeah?” He’s so close now that you can feel his breath fanning on your lips.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you say, and finally, your voice is strong like you want it to - but Heeseung isn’t deterred by it.

“Do what?” he asks, pretending to be stupid. “We haven’t done anything. Not yet.” He adds the last part in a whisper, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and you can feel your resolve crumbling piece by piece, the opposite of completing a puzzle.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you whisper back, voice almost pleading with him. Stop this before it’s too late, you want to tell him, but for some reason, at this point, you’re more scared of nothing happening than something happening.

“I do, but I want you to tell me,” he repeats, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Laughing helps relieve the tension, but it’s back as quickly as it left when his hold on your waist gets tighter, bringing you closer to him. Your hands that had fallen to your side come up to grab the sides of his t-shirt, gathering the fabric in your fists. There’s no going back now, you can tell - you wait for Heeseung to make a move, both dreading it and craving the relief that will come with it.

Heeseung’s free hand comes up to your face, and he traces your jawline with a knuckle before taking your chin in two of his fingers, gently raising it so that your face is angled up towards him. His touch makes your skin burn and takes away your ability to breathe properly.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you repeat, voice barely audible, a weak and half-hearted attempt at stopping this now that you still can.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agrees, and before you can say or do anything else, Heeseung presses his lips to yours, finally, finally.

His lips are just as soft as you’d expected them to be, and the kiss is light, slow, careful. You’re grateful for it, because you’re not a very experienced kisser - if Heeseung had plunged his tongue directly into your mouth, you wouldn’t have known what to do. It’s almost like he knows this, like he’s giving you time to figure it out, to get used to it. His hand snakes its way to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, while the other cups your cheek with his palm. You, on the other hand, have completely forgotten about your hands, only able to focus on where your lips meet.

It’s easy to fall into Heeseung’s rhythm, to let him take control of the kiss. But maybe it’s too easy, because soon enough, you start to want more - as amazing as this is right now, a slow kiss like this is not enough to have dissolved the tension in your body. You remember your hands and inch them up to his hair, your fingers finding purchase there and slightly pulling as you open your mouth just a bit wider, hoping Heeseung will get the message.

For a second, you think you’ve got it all wrong - Heeseung pulls back an inch, peering down at you. You’re both breathing heavily, and you’re scared you might have gone too far. But then, he murmurs a small fuck under his breath, and just like that, his lips are back on yours, your back is pressed against the wall again, his body encaging your smaller one. The kiss now is nothing like it was seconds ago - it’s turned hungry, hot, messy. You love it.

You had no idea you would want to kiss Heeseung like this, but now that you were doing it, you couldn’t get enough. The intensity with which he held you, the feel of his tongue against yours, the small groans that escaped his lips every time you pulled on his hair, it was all making you more drunk than the alcohol had.

You swear you haven’t even been kissing for two minutes, but then, all of a sudden, the doors are snapped open, and light pours in the closet, and Heeseung’s lips aren’t on yours anymore. You hadn’t heard the timer go off, too engrossed in Heeseung to pay anything else any mind. When you turn your head, Chaeyeong and Jake are staring at you and Heeseung, mouths wide open and eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh. My. God,” Chaeyeong says, while Jake starts laughing. A shy smile appears on Heeseung’s lips, even plumper and pinker than usual from your kiss. His hair is a mess, and you’re sure you don’t look too different. He scratches the back of his neck, and you can’t believe this sheepish boy is the same that was kissing you roughly not a minute ago.

“Chaeyeong,” you cry out, voice already pleading as you take a step out of the closet and take both of her hands in yours. “Seeun can’t know about this.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise but nods her head in agreement, and you’ve never been so thankful for your friend as now.

“Would she really mind?” Jake asks, looking at you, then at his friend. You turn to look at Heeseung behind you, who purses his lips.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling she would… She’s always told me she didn't want me hanging out with her friends,” Heeseung says, and you and Chaeyeong exchange a look; this was news to both of you.

You have no further time to discuss it, however, because Seeun’s voice calling out your name and Heeseung’s make all four of you widen your eyes. Chaeyeong fixes your clothes and hair as best as she can, then smiles at you reassuringly and nods, prompting you to imitate her. She ushers Heeseung into his bathroom and tells him to “freshen up or whatever,” and you, Jake and Chaeyeong leave the room just as Seeun reaches the door.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she asks, not a trace of suspicion in her voice, peering behind you into her brother’s dark room.

“Just needed the toilet,” Jake answers quickly, and that seems to convince her.

She turns to you, an amused expression on her face. “Hope that wasn’t too awkward.”

You’re so surprised at your friend’s quickness to assume that nothing could happen between you and her brother, as if the idea was truly unfathomable to her, but you figure it’s for the best. You all head back into the party, Heeseung appearing some five minutes later. He scans the room for you, and when you make eye contact from across the crowded living room, he smiles, his shy, genuine smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

You already miss him, you realize, his lips, his touch, his scent. That’s how you know that you’re in deep, deep shit.

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