#this will probably be my last fic for quite some time as life starts to kick into high gear again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ikeuverse · 7 days ago

Text

safety point | pjs

pairing: jay x fem!reader genres: angst, fluff, smut wc: 18.6k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : some swearing, several mentions of cancer and chemotherapy. some mentions of food. kissing, dry humping, jongseong being extremely chivalrous and cliché. lmk if i missed anything.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you stopped your whole life to live for your mother and her cancer treatment. you wanted to do everything alone, without burdening anyone, of course… you could do it! but the unexpected happens when jongseong enters your life, sharing this task with you effortlessly and without asking for anything in return.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : it's my birthday, but i want to give a gift to those of you who always read my work. initially this idea was much bigger than what i wrote now, it would probably have to become a fic of almost 3 parts… however i tried to reduce it as much as possible because i really wanted to post it. it's an old plot that i thought about with affection and that i took inspiration from a book i read. hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

“Don't you think you need to go out for a while?” your mother's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making your eyes disconnect from the book you were reading and look at her slowly.

“But I've been out this week, mom” you mumbled, a small smile adorning your lips before returning to your reading.

Both you and your mother knew that a trip to the supermarket wasn't such a big outing, but she also knew that your concern and instinct wouldn't make you do more than that.

It was a forbidden conversation after your mother's diagnosis. You quit your job to live with her in the childhood home you lived in with your family since your younger sister had her own family now. Nothing would be lost for you without teaching the classes you loved so much. Just that.

It would bring you closer to your mother, to palliative care and everything she needed. But there would also be a hobby for you to read more books while she slept, knit some scarves that your grandmother had taught you, then passed on to your mother, and now she had taught you. And your great passion for painting.

Your mother had been against the idea from the start, with you dropping everything to move back in with her, always trivializing the state. However, you and your sister had seen the worst of her before the diagnosis was discovered. She was sure she'd raised two strong, independent women, and you, with your strong, rigid personality, wouldn't give a toss when you turned up with all your suitcases on her doorstep.

You had no reason to think otherwise; after all, she was your mother. You'd do anything for her, and you knew your sister would, too, if she hadn't just given birth to a beautiful baby boy.

That delicate moment had upset your family a little, especially since you all lived together and your mother decided to return to the old house where you and your sister grew up. Everything was so old, vintage, and nostalgic. There were still marks on the hallway doorpost where you and she marked the heights over time. Or the big stain on the carpet where you and she had spilled grape juice and ended up staining it a bit.

There, nothing had been changed to maintain the essence of when you two were little, even more so with the arrival of your nephew. You and your sister wanted to show him where you both grew up, how the tree house your grandfather made was still spotless, the wood looking like new. A good clean inside and you knew it might be habitable to take the little one there when he came to visit you.

“I mean really leave, Y/n” your mother sighed, bringing you out of your thoughts again. You closed the book this time, looking at her intently. Her hair was starting to thin, not completely falling out, but there were signs of it. You tried to smile, although the image always cut you to the heart “When was the last time you accepted a friend's request to go for a walk?”

“We've been over this, miss Dorothy” you tried to play it cool, knowing that the subject would always come up. Your ways of deflecting it always worked, but on that particular afternoon, your head was so immersed in the book you were reading that you didn't see it coming, you were just hit with countless questions.

“I'm going to die one day or another, and you won't have enjoyed anything” she seemed to be starting to get angry, you knew she was.

In those moments, your mother would say things that would cut your heart out, like a little – and unwanted – goodbye, ragging on you for not wanting to go out and stay at home with someone like her. That's what she used to say and you hated it. You hated the way she tried to trivialize it.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the slight stinging in your eyes and the lump forming in your throat. This was a losing argument because you could never finish talking, leaving the place crying or hugging your mother and agreeing to leave next time.

“I—” you opened your mouth to say something, but your cell phone rang halfway through.

Your blurred vision gradually dispersed as you blinked hard to keep the tears at bay, lifting your body to the other side of the table to pick up the phone and answer it in a few rings.

“Hi, sis” your gaze was on your mother, who was analyzing the whole situation in a brief silence “We're fine. And the rest of you, how are things?”

As your sister told you about your nephew and her husband, and how things were going in the house, your mother got out of the chair in front of you on the balcony and entered the house. At that moment you let out a heavy breath.

“What's wrong? Tell me” she asked on the other end of the line. That simple question made you collapse in seconds. Although she was the youngest, your sister seemed to have the instincts of an older sister in every respect.

She was stronger in situations like this, more resilient, and much more rigid. Your sister could get around her mother when the heavy stuff started and she always helped you when you got into trouble at school. It couldn't be any different now. If she had been in your place, she would surely have made your mother stop talking about how she was going to die or that you were wasting your time with someone who was sick. Your sister would never allow that kind of thing.

“I have some good news to share” she was so excited and, at the same time, you could sense a hint of wavering in her voice. Your thoughts had already run wild about your nephew or something else that might have happened, but if that was the case, your sister wouldn't have spoken so excitedly like that. So you just sighed.

“Tell me they're not pregnant again” you joked, the first relaxed thing to come to mind after venting your frustrations for minutes on that phone call. Knowing that she would listen to you even if she didn't have time. Your sister was your haven after your mother and you felt grateful for that.

She laughed, making you laugh too as you frantically denied it.

“Not really, although Jake has already said he's expecting the second in a few years” you could imagine her rolling her eyes as she snorted. Maybe one hand on her waist while the other held her cell phone nonchalantly. You, on the other hand, were straightening your posture on the sun lounger and, from time to time, looking inside for your mother.

Noticing the comings and goings around the huge counter in the middle of the kitchen, now preparing something to eat. At least that's what she did on her own, since you didn't dare to cook, because you were so bad in front of the stove.

“But what I wanted to tell you is—” she paused for a few seconds, a mumble on the other end of the line and you knew that your nephew was waking up or awakening your sister's attention. She said a few words of comfort to him before returning to the subject: “Mackenzie and I are going to spend some time with you and mom.”

What? If you weren't sitting down, your legs would surely give way, because that wasn't supposed to happen. Your sister had only given birth to your nephew a few months before, so there was no way she could go there.

“Hazel, that's—”

“It's not crazy and I've already decided” she interrupted you, saving her little speech, “We'll talk about it later.”

“Hazel!” you called out again, wanting to understand the reason for the sudden idea.

You wanted your sister and nephew there, of course you did. Although they didn't live that far away, the commute took time and with a small child and a woman in palliative care, it was a bit more complicated.

She said goodbye briefly, knowing that no matter what she did, you would be against any of her arguments. So just letting you know that she was leaving was enough. Hazel still had the room from her childhood and it would be more than perfect to stay there for a while.

When the call ended, you were still trying to absorb it and think about what came next. Of course, you'd lecture your sister for hours, but you'd forget why you were angry soon after, after all, you and she never really got angry with each other. But what worried you was how your mother would react. If with you she was always more restricted, with your sister and nephew coming, she might be even more vulnerable.

But at least you'd have someone else to share the anguish with a little more closely. After, of course, cuddling your nephew and scolding Hazel a bit.

You went into the kitchen to get Jaeyun a glass of cold water, and a small silent thank you for taking your sister's and Mackenzie's bags upstairs.

His footsteps were right behind you, following you into the room.

“You're angry, aren't you?” he asked in a calm tone, entering the kitchen just after you. His eyes didn't look at you, but you knew the boy had those puppy-dog eyes your sister always talked about.

“Angry, me? Why would I be?” you tried to sound indifferent as you opened the fridge to get the jug of water, forgetting for a moment that, as well as your brother-in-law, Jaeyun was your best friend.

It was because of you that he started dating your sister. It was with your help that he asked her to marry him. Jaeyun knew you even before he met Hazel.

“Maybe because I know you as well as you think,” he let slip, humming softly after you turned to get a glass from the drainer. Jaeyun raised one eyebrow when you looked at him, the puppy-dog look having been abandoned for your best friend's shrewd gaze.

Pouring the water, you handed him the glass so he could drink. A moment of silence passed between the two of you as Jaeyun finished the contents, thanked you, and then handed it back to you.

“You know” he began, his hands still resting on the marble of the kitchen counter as he stared at you from across it, “it was my idea for the two of you to come here.”

“Yours? Why?”

He sighed softly, trying to ignore your exasperated tone and looking towards the kitchen door. At that moment, Hazel was talking to your mother in some corner of the house while asking her about her health and even trivial things. She must have been asking the same questions about the family, what it would be like with a baby in the house, and things like that. At least they were both too entertained to even think about going to the kitchen.

“Because I had to go back to helping out in the restaurant a few days ago, it's a mess there without her” Jaeyun began, his eyes now on you as he explained “The boys can manage, but you know, Hazel's the one who puts things in order” he smiled shyly.

You knew this because you had lived with your sister all your life, she was the one who made order happen in every respect. You also knew how organized she was in the workplace, even though you hadn't had a chance to visit the new address yet.

“And she was getting very lonely, so I thought I'd leave her here with you,” he kept looking at you, hoping that some glimmer of a smile or some praise for a good idea would come out of your mouth “Not to mention that the restaurant is a ten-minute drive away, so any of the guys and I can get here if you need anything.”

It was a good plan if you thought about it that way and wanted to give it a go. Jaeyun was right and you knew it, Hazel wouldn't be going back to work and what she liked to do any time soon, at least not until Mackenzie could go to nursery, and you knew that was a few months away. She must have felt lonely since Jaeyun, her only adult companion, had to go back to work.

From the glare on your best friend and brother-in-law's face, you knew he didn't want that. Not when his dream was to build a life alongside Hazel and now that his family was formed, being inside the restaurant was all he wanted at the moment. Not that he hated his job, on the contrary, Jaeyun loved what he did, but he loved his family even more.

“So you forgive me for going against your wishes and bringing the two of them here?” he asked after a while of rambling, knowing that his mind was running wild as countless assumptions ran through his head. How you would take care of Hazel and Mackenzie, how you would make Jaeyun less worried about his wife and son, and even about you and your mother. Because you knew that he worried as if he were her son. He called every night by video call to talk for hours with the two of you since you moved back in with your mother to take care of her.

“I swear to God, I hope Mackenzie doesn't bring out that puppy dog side of you, otherwise Hazel and I are going to be screwed” you muttered, looking away from him as you heard him laugh.

As with Hazel, getting angry with Jaeyun didn't last long. You and he had never had a serious fight since you met and became best friends. So it wouldn't be now, as an adult, that you and he would do that.

He knew how focused and determined you were to take care of your mother alone so as not to burden anyone, but you also knew how tiring it was and how much Jaeyun and your sister knew that. Little by little, they wanted to sneak in to help you and make you give in at least a little. Getting everyone to the house had been the first step that was working.

“There's just one condition, then” you muttered as you watched him cross the kitchen, stop beside you, and stretch out his arms towards you. You rolled your eyes at the small act of affection that was about to take place, but you still didn't deny it, moving closer to Jaeyun to hug him.

“You can ask me and I'll do anything, I hope I can” he said, hugging you as tightly as you hugged him, resting his chin on the top of your head as he slowly cradled your body.

“You can bring me a tasty meal from the restaurant at least once a week, can't you?”

Jaeyun laughed a little loudly, echoing throughout the kitchen as he felt you squeeze him even tighter, laughing along with him.

“I'll do that” he whispered.

“Look, did you two make up after all?” Hazel walked into the kitchen with her mother by her side, both of them smiling while the eldest held the baby in her arms, a little sleepy and grumpy. You and Jaeyun stepped aside and he smiled at his mother-in-law lovingly.

“Of course, Jake promised me meals from your restaurant” you hummed.

“I'm sure you'd ask for that” Hazel laughed, walking past Jaeyun and kissing him quickly on the lips. Then she walked past you, messing up your hair and going to the fridge.

This time with a full house, apart from you and your mother, could be good after all.

Having your sister and nephew at home wasn't so bad, not even Jaeyun's regular visits after work. Your best friend making a point of having dinner with everyone and still keeping his promise to bring some of the restaurant's meals for you and your mother to try.

“They're not the ones I make, but they're still wonderful” you knew Hazel would boast, and rightly so. She was an incredible cook and you were immensely proud of her.

Even more so in her strength and determination to balance Mackenzie's growth and development with hospital visits and appointments with her mother. Of course, she wanted to intersperse, so that she could also drive once in a while to a routine check-up or to pick up some medication for her mother. All of this was part of the companionship between you as a family, which you were learning to deal with.

Because before it was just you for your mother. Your car leaves the garage at least four times a day to chase things. Now you could rest and take a nap while your sister did it. Even if guilt consumed you, but… Guilt about what? Her helping you? Because that's what was happening.

A whole month passed with these thoughts hammering away in your head, Hazel and Mackenzie becoming more and more embedded in the routine of looking after their mother and now Jaeyun was sleeping there some nights too. A full house was always a good sign, but the extra help made you a little uncomfortable. You didn't want to burden their small family, especially with a small baby. That was absurd.

“In a few weeks I can put Mackie in nursery, so we'll have more time to do things for mom” Hazel said after leaning over the coffee table, picking up some sour treats you'd bought earlier in the week.

Just to settle your stomach before Jaeyun called to let you know he was coming. Your mother was upstairs fixing some hair scarves. She'd gotten way ahead of herself by buying a few pieces when the hair hadn't even fallen out yet, but you knew how anxious she was – and afraid of what lay ahead – so letting her focus on that was the best choice to make.

“But you're going back to the restaurant and your house is twenty minutes away, don't make it up” you tried your best big sister tone, staring at the side profile of your sister who was eating yet another acidic treat without trying to grimace.

She opened her mouth to say something, to try to protest and say that that house could house all of you with peace of mind. Jaeyun wouldn't mind spending some time living there other than in the apartment they had planned when they got married. Everyone knew that your mother's treatment would take a while, but your sister was worried too.

Not just about your mother – that was the main thing – but about you too. About the fact that you had quit your job with no foreseeable return date, abandoning your hobbies while creating new ones. Or at least some of which you could do at home with your mother, keeping her in your field of vision at all times.

“I think we can handle this very well as a big family, Y/n” Hazel turned, finally facing you. She ran the tip of her tongue over the corner of her lips to wipe away the remnants of jam that had remained there “You've done a lot on your own and—”

Suddenly your sister's speech was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone reverberating through the room. She straightened up on the sofa, picking up the device without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hi” from her smile, it was Jaeyun. You'd recognize it anywhere, because it was the same way, in this very house, that she used to answer his calls when she was in college.

You decided to leave the two of them a little more privacy and got up to go to the kitchen, eating those candies had left your throat a little dry, maybe sparkling water would help. Grabbing the bottle from the fridge, you let the fizzy noise invade the room with such pleasure as you turned the cap on the bottle before taking a long sip.

“Hey, sis” Hazel came into the kitchen a little while later. The phone was still in hand, but the screen was off and she looked at you expectantly.

“What?” you asked, taking another sip and feeling your eyes sting from the fizzy water going down your throat. It was a wonderful sensation that calmed all your previous thirst caused by the candy.

“You know…” Hazel placed her cell phone on the counter, glancing at you quickly “Jake said he was going to have a small meeting of the boys, a dinner between them, and he asked us to come.”

You were ready to protest, your mouth open to deny the invitation and repeat the same words you'd say to anyone who tried to get you out of the house, but your mother appeared in the kitchen long before you could even think.

“Of course she's going” she smiled slowly.

“Mom” you began, but she interrupted you again.

“I'm a bit tired from fussing with those scarves” she said, standing between you and your sister, alternating her gaze between the two of you “I probably won't be having dinner tonight if Jake brought something, so you'd better go.”

The protest was already on the tip of your tongue, a strange feeling of not having anything to say while two people, en masse and in force, were trying to get you out of the house.

“Besides, you need to go out with your sister and your nephew too, just staying in here will make you sick along with me.”

You wanted to be able to predict every time your mother made a comment that made the atmosphere heavy or made you ill, reminding her how sick she was. Making her sink further into ruin along with that damned disease.

She knew that you would say something, that you could scold her as you always have since she began to face a reality – a rather harsh one – in the face of that situation. Your mother approached you, kissed your cheek, and wished you goodnight. She passed your sister and did the same, leaving the kitchen and leaving the two of you there.

A moment of silence between you and her was enough to make your eyes sting, remembering the words that came out of the mouth of the person you love most in the world.

“I hate it when she does that” your laugh came out without humor, and you sniffled softly to try to keep away the tears that threatened to fall. It was your sister's turn to approach you in slow steps, testing the waters until she was finally standing in front of you.

“You know she's going to say that kind of thing because look at everything Mom's going through” Hazel held you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes with tense emotion. She took a deep breath at the same moment as you, feeling her eyes sting in the same way. “But we know that nothing bad will happen because we found out at the beginning, that this phase of degradation always happens to those who go through it.”

“It's just that— Shit” you cursed softly, feeling Hazel pull you into a hug.

“How about we go out for a while tonight, have dinner at the restaurant?” she proposed while still hugging you tightly “You can meet the staff, have a real chat, and try some more good food.”

Pondering for a while, you wanted to say no again. Even if the idea was too tempting and your stomach was rumbling, you'd never gone out like this before. Ever since your mother discovered cancer, everything around you stopped to focus on the woman who gave you life, and that was what had to happen. But not all the time.

You could also go out for a while and still send a message or wait for a call since your contact was your mother's emergency contact. You had all sorts of means of communication, so there was little way of depriving yourself of going out this time, and from the pleading look on your sister's face, after she pulled away from the hug, you knew there was no denying it.

“I'm just going to take a shower” you finished. She squealed with excitement, running into the kitchen as you walked slowly out of the room.

“I'm going to shower Mackie and get ready too, we'll be leaving soon. I'll let Jake know!”

It seemed that Hazel had won a huge prize just by agreeing to leave. You laughed at her excitement, realizing how important it was for her, even for your mother and Jaeyun, that you also took care of yourself. Because you needed to be strong and healthy to deal with the whole process together with everyone else.

You allowed yourself to take a little longer in the shower this time, taking a deep breath each time you scrubbed your body, thinking about how strange the feeling in your chest was that night. It could have been a bit of relief at finally getting out, or just a feeling of gratitude at having such loving and caring people around you.

Both answers could be correct, and that's what motivated you to get out from under the shower and look for a nice outfit to go out in.

The drive to the restaurant was filled with nostalgic conversations and a few mumbles from Mackenzie. The atmosphere in the car was light and you found yourself smiling a little more than usual as your sister talked as much as you did. About everything and anything.

The two of you were trying to make up for the time when you were too far away from each other while, in the time since Hazel's return, you and she have been closer than ever.

She announced quietly when she arrived at the restaurant, maneuvering into the parking lot while you got ready to leave. Grabbing your bag, hers and your nephew's while your sister parked to pick up the baby. A perfect team effort that you and she developed without even agreeing.

“We went through a renovation before Mackenzie was born, so I'm entering this new place together with you for the first time” her smile was so infectious that you couldn't help but smile back. Her excitement, her enthusiasm.

This place meant everything to your sister. You remember when she went to gastronomy school, something completely out of the ordinary that your family thought the youngest would follow. You had already been a total buzz studying to be a kindergarten teacher and majoring in fine arts as a second degree. Your sister doing something that wasn't geared towards medicine, law, or whatever your family thought, made you very happy. Hazel never followed any kind of pattern and that's what made her unique and a role model for you, even though she was the youngest.

After she graduated, she thought about opening a restaurant, but her savings were low and she had just been proposed to. Everything was being saved for the big day, even with the help of her family and Jaeyun's, Hazel wanted to have an important role in this as well, besides saying yes in front of many guests.

She was lucky to have friends in college, one of them in particular encouraged her to open a restaurant, even becoming her partner, where you heard very good things about it. All the people who did good to your sister were worthy of your respect and joy, even without knowing them. Until today, in fact.

You let her go in first, opening the huge glass doors while you marveled at the new decor. Since you didn't know what the old one was, you started to appreciate the place as being the way it was from your first impression, every detail being in very good taste while you could feel your sister's opinion of everything. There was a bit of her in everything in that establishment.

“I can’t believe my eyes” a male voice took you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t Jaeyun’s, so you didn’t know who was speaking “Our greatest love…”

“Mackie!” another voice interrupted the boy, who opened his arms to run to Hazel and pretend to ignore her while taking the little one from the girl’s arms.

“And I’m invisible in this place?” Hazel protested, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the two drooling men playing with the little newcomer. He watched with curious and wide eyes, paying attention to the little noises they made to try to get attention.

“We’ve worked hard with you, we want to see our new mini-boss.”

“I think I’ll talk to Jay about layoffs when I get back” she hummed.

“Don’t scare them, love. We’ve had a busy day today, they deserve a distraction” Jaeyun finally appeared, the only one you knew so far.

The game with your little nephew lasted only a few seconds, as soon as they looked up to look at Hazel, they saw you behind her too.

“Oh, we have a visitor” one of them said, moving away from the one holding Mackenzie and walking towards where you and Hazel were. He smiled, greeting your sister first and then looking at you with a small smile “I’m Sunghoon, nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Y/n” you lightly shook his hand that he extended after saying the name.

“Hazel’s sister? Poor thing, having to put up with her at home” the other joked “I’m Heeseung” he rocked Mackenzie lightly, giving small sniffs on the top of your nephew’s head. You couldn’t blame him, the baby smell was addictive.

“She’s more demanding than here, I bet” you joined in the joke, getting the first laugh from your sister’s friends and employees.

Hazel would even protest if it were at another time, maybe saying it wasn't like that or pretending to be angry. But seeing that you were comfortable in the first few minutes you were there made her heart swell with joy. That was what she wanted. That was what Jaeyun also wanted from his best friend.

“It's working out” he whispered to his wife, kissing the top of her head as he approached, pulling out a chair for Hazel to sit down.

“I hope you're all willing to help me bring the food to the dining room” the voice was loud enough to come from the kitchen and reverberate where you all were, but in a playful way. You could hear the effort the owner of the voice had to make to speak loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I'm busy” Heeseung shouted back, not wanting to let go of Mackenzie for even a second, but that didn't last long since Sunghoon also wanted to hold him. And that's what he did.

“Now he can, my turn to be busy,” he joked for a moment before the huge wooden door opened.

The steps that followed made everyone stare at the man who was approaching. He walked gracefully, carefree as he untied his kitchen apron and placed it on the table where you decided to sit. It had an identification plate, probably the number that was used during the time the restaurant was open, but that was no longer so important.

For a moment, all the conversation around seemed to go silent when your eyes met his. The expression of the man in front of you was of slight surprise, but he kept a small smile on his chapped and reddened lips as he maintained eye contact with you.

Your sister, your brother-in-law, and the other boys were still talking about something, but you and that man seemed not to want to break your gaze from each other. And you wanted to understand why.

Maybe it was his well-defined jawline, or his tanned skin and the way his neck was adorned with a silver chain. The top two buttons of his white shirt were open and his black hair almost got in the way of your vision, if it weren't for the hands insisting on moving them out of the way.

“Jay” Jaeyun's voice finally brought both you and him back to reality. “This is Y/n, my sister-in-law and best friend.”

He blinked a few times in understanding, a noticeable “oh” leaving his lips without much sound. He had certainly heard about you, as well as the other two you had met a few minutes ago.

You looked around to notice that your sister was now holding Mackenzie in her arms, he was whining – probably hungry – so that was the reason why she hadn't introduced you, but Jaeyun instead.

The boy with the perfect jaw took a few steps, looking a little less confident now. If you were a good body reader, you would say he was nervous as he got closer. But as soon as he stopped in front of you, he extended his hand towards you.

It was your turn to blink slowly, finding the greeting a little more formal than usual, but even so, it didn't stop you from reaching out and holding his hand too. You just didn't expect that, when you touched his hand, the boy would lean in and press his lips to your skin. Even though it was chapped, it felt strangely soft and warm against your back.

“I'm Jongseong” he said softly, his lips still close to your skin and his warm breath hitting it. This made a shiver run through your body and made your heartbeat accelerate in a ridiculously instant way. “But you can call me Jay.”

The words wouldn't come out of your mouth, you wanted to say something. Anything to not look like an idiot in front of him, but Jongseong seemed to notice your shyness and his act that had – probably – taken you by surprise. Even him, after all, why had he greeted you so intimately like that?

He wouldn't say it was because he was mesmerized by your beauty, or even that his heartbeat was almost in his ears because of you. Jongseong had never been nervous like that.

“Do you want help in the kitchen, man?” Jaeyun bit his tongue to keep from making any kind of joke, much less making a fuss about the situation since only he had seen everything. The others were busy talking while Hazel got ready to feed the baby.

“Please” Jongseong turned to him, thanking him with just a look since his friend was the great savior.

“Do you two need help?” your voice finally came out, and Jongseong swore he felt his knees weaken a little. Your voice was beautiful, just like you.

“Actually—”

“Don’t even think about it, miss Y/n” Heeseung appeared, placing himself between you and the other two who were gathering to go to the kitchen “Leave it to us, you stay with Hazel and hope for the best in this restaurant.”

“It’s only not better because I didn’t prepare anything,” Hazel said a little louder.

“How conceited” Jongseong joked.

“Tell me the truth, you miss our competitions” she said.

This man had all sides equally attractive. Whether it was the flirtatious side – unintentionally – that he showed you a few minutes ago, the relaxed side he was showing with his friends. You feared that he would be like that in every way, how could you stand it, after all?

When the three disappeared into the kitchen, you finally sat next to your sister and faced Sunghoon. The two quickly looked at you, a small smile on the lips of the only boy present there.

“Sunghoon, no…” Hazel started saying, leaving you completely confused.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything” he tried to defend himself, but she interrupted him.

“I’ve known you long enough to know what you were going to say.”

“And what was he going to say?” you asked, almost regretting it the moment your sister closed her eyes and Sunghoon’s smile widened even more. Working with people for so long could sharpen a sixth sense of what they were thinking or what they were going to say next. Knowing someone so well that you could know what the other was capable of.

And that was how it was with your sister and Sunghoon. The two seemed to understand each other while she tried to tell him to be quiet with just scolding looks, but he didn’t seem to care. Shrugging almost every time before turning to you and smiling even wider.

“That someone finally brought our cliché Jongseong back” Sunghoon leaned over the table to say those words as if he wanted to tell you a secret. Hazel mumbled something, throwing her head back as she listened to him continue, “You two really fit together.”

“Sunghoon!” you protested, your cheeks turning red and hot, your face on fire. Your throat was dry and you almost ran away from there if it weren’t for the lack of a ride since you had gone with your sister to the restaurant.

“Tell me I’m lying” he turned around, speaking directly to your sister. She was focused on making Mackenzie burp, your nephew’s head resting on her shoulder as she patted his back lightly.

You thought your sister would deny it, say it wasn’t like that, and that Sunghoon was crazy. Everyone there seemed a little crazy, you could tell by your brother-in-law and your sister, that they weren’t normal. But what followed was a knowing smile and a slight nod.

“I knew this would happen” Hazel finally said, leaving Sunghoon to celebrate with fist pumps in the air.

“So… Did you guys plan it…?”

“Not at all” they both said at the same time.

The question hung in the air, if that had been something everyone had done for you to get to know him or if it had happened that way. That it was supposed to be that way. From their surprise, you knew that nothing had been planned, but at least the doubts were hammering in your head.

What did it mean to bring the cliché Jongseong back? Wasn't he the way he was showing? You looked at Hazel and then at Sunghoon, your mouth opening and closing a few times before being interrupted by the kitchen door opening again.

Your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when Jongseong appeared, a small smile on the corner of his lips and his gaze directly at Sunghoon.

“Hey man, enough talking, we need another hand here” he nodded into the kitchen, before closing the door and disappearing from view.

“Duty calls me” he stood up, waving to you and your sister before running the few steps until he opened the doors with less delicacy than before and went into the kitchen.

Hazel bit her lower lip to keep her smile from widening even more, while her eyebrows were still furrowed and her expression was one of complete confusion. But she knew you well enough to know what was going on in your head, so slowly her sister began to speak.

“Maybe in time, you’ll know what Hoonie meant” Hazel settled your nephew on her lap, now he was a little sleepy and mumbling. She gave him a little kiss on the forehead before looking back in his direction “It just depends on you getting out a little more.”

Part of you didn’t want to find out, simply letting it go and ignoring everything that had happened. Focusing only on dinner and the conversation that would come from there until you left. But another part of you was looking forward to it, maybe a very small one, because it meant you would see Jongseong again until you found out what Sunghoon meant.

The mental conflict made you even more confused, you just wanted to understand what had happened for a guy to mess with you so much in such a short time.

After that night at the restaurant, you tried to get back to your normal routine. Continue to focus entirely on your mother, taking advantage of the fact that your sister would be back home soon, but almost everything slipped through your fingers.

One night you were sitting on the porch of your childhood home, refusing to go out for anything other than your mother's appointments and the tests she needed to do. Another time you were sitting at the table in your sister's restaurant, having dinner and chatting animatedly with her friends and changing the course of your entire life.

You didn't imagine that that night Jongseong would sit next to you, start a conversation with you, and not mind joining in on the conversation his friends were having. He was just trying to fill Hazel in on what had happened while she was away, so it was much more interesting for him to talk to you and hear your stories.

This led to a long night in which you got to know a little more about him, and how charismatic and truly charming Jongseong was in every way. All the topics with him flowed naturally, engaging in one conversation after another without stopping and without the two of you having a single moment of silence. Save for the few seconds in which he listened to you talk, sipping some of the wine that Jaeyun had chosen or answering a question from the other group when directed to him.

You also didn't mind having only his attention, even with the provocative looks from Hazel and Sunghoon, and a giggle here and there from Heeseung and Jaeyun. That wouldn't make you so shy. And the redness on your cheeks you could blame solely on the wine you were drinking, so everything was under control. Until you started to feel strange.

A part of you ran from one side to the other as your mother's exams became more frequent, the discouragement she felt with each chemotherapy showing in the thinning of her hair and the thinness on her face. It was affecting her little by little. Another side of you, the small side that had little life outside of hospitals, longed to see Jongseong again. But you couldn't afford to leave your mother at home and go on a date with him, no way would happen. Not even the few hours you spent at the restaurant that day would be enough to repeat.

You brought the cliché Jongseong back, that only made sense when you realized that man was in your kitchen making dinner.

He asked your sister for your number, and Hazel certainly wouldn't object to that. If she did, Jaeyun wouldn't do it, so there was no way out but for him to send you a message. He knew what he was getting into, he knew what you were like from the countless conversations he had with your sister, who was his business partner and best friend. Family problems were shared between the two of you, and when Hazel told him that you at least did something for yourself, Jongseong didn't think twice.

If inviting someone to your house wasn't something he wanted to do, then he decided to talk to Jaeyun and propose a dinner for all of you. Maybe if your mother attended, if it was under your roof, you would at least be there. He could see you again.

And that's what he did.

Cutting the umpteenth asparagus and looking away at you, Jongseong gave a small smile when he realized your eyes were still on him. Arms crossed as he watched you prepare the ingredients before Hazel came back to help.

“Do you cook too?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled for a short minute. Jaeyun had just left to put Mackenzie in the stroller when he fell asleep. Your mother was upstairs choosing an outfit a little better than the pajamas she wore, after all, it wasn’t every day that she had guests.

“Only my sister inherited this talent” you commented with a small smile, looking at Jongseong’s fingers that cut masterfully. He seemed to have a unique precision in each cut. If it were you, nothing would be asymmetrical and you would have hurt yourself by now.

“Come on, you have a talent for artistic things, or do you think I forgot?” he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that, and then Jongseong remembered the conversation you had at the restaurant a while ago. You two had talked about so many things, you just didn't know he would remember your speeches about college and graduation. Maybe it was irrelevant.

But for him, it wasn't. Jongseong remembered every detail and every word you had said to him that night, he could recite the most diverse subjects you and he talked about if it was to keep things lighter again.

“Y/n” he called you next, your eyes leaving his hands to go to the boy's face “Do you mind trying it and see if I put too much salt in the sauce?” he removed the dish towel from his shoulders and looked for the largest spoon he had on the sink next to the stove. Your throat dried, and you became slightly nervous.

“Me? Really?” your tone of voice almost betrayed you, if it weren't for the secondary noises of cutlery that Jongseong was spreading until he found what he needed.

“Hazel usually does this, but I think she and Jake are checking out the mini chef,” he said, making you laugh.

It wouldn’t be a big deal to try a seasoning on something you were going to eat sooner or later, and it was certainly just to put Jongseong’s insecurity aside. After all, he was a great chef. Getting the salt right was the least of his worries. Even so, you approached, still with hesitant steps, and walked around the kitchen counter until you were standing next to him. A few more steps and you were next to the boy.

“You can be honest if I’ve overdone it, okay?” he asked, trying not to waver in his tone of voice to convey confidence, but deep down, Jongseong was a little scared. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to impress you with a sophisticated dish, he wanted you to admire him cooking in his kitchen. Even though the first time you two met, you ate something he had prepared. But it wouldn't be the same if he hadn't been watching from across the kitchen.

“I bet it’s amazing, I don’t know what you’re so scared of” you joked to lighten the mood, seeing that he was nervous. Wanting to believe your words, Jongseong took the spoon and ran it along the edge of the sauce, collecting some of the bubbling mixture.

You waited patiently as you were mesmerized once again. Jongseong’s lips formed into a pout as he blew out the smoke that formed under the red mixture, some leaves between the sauce and the smell lingered in the air. If your stomach could talk, it would scream to try it right then, but you were also delighted with his care before serving it to you.

It was something simple, your sister had already done it for you, and your mother did it too. Even Jaeyun once blew on a hot mixture before handing it to you to try, but no one had done what came next.

Jongseong brought the spoon to your lips, waiting for you to open it to try it. He didn’t hand you the spoon or let you take it yourself… He did it for you.

Your heartbeat was racing, your face was burning and you could at least say it was because you were so close to hot food. At least that would serve as an excuse. Not the fact that Jongseong had one hand firmly around a spoon in front of your mouth, while the other was against your chin.

“Open” he just whispered, so softly, but in such a seductive way at the same time. His fingers touched your skin like a feather, you saw him look away at your mouth as it opened, wrapping itself around the spoon to eat the sauce.

It tasted great and the salt was perfect, it couldn’t be any other way.

“It’s… It’s great, Jay” you didn’t even care about the stuttering due to nervousness at that moment, you were too focused on Jongseong’s eyes alternating between your eyes and your lips. Your tongue slowly ran over your lower lip to collect the remains of the sauce and at that moment you noticed his lips slowly part, an inaudible sigh leaving the lips of the boy in front of you. This made you nervous and unresponsive because you swear he leaned in a little. You also swear you leaned back, but before anything else, both of you moved away with Jaeyun's thunderous entrance into the kitchen.

“So, everything ready?” he asked nonchalantly, not looking at you and Jongseong much. Thank goodness, you both thought at the same time, without even knowing it.

“A few more minutes and we can have dinner” Jongseong composed himself, waiting for you to do the same before turning his attention back to the sauce.

The rest of the time passed in a blur, you followed the entire dinner talking to everyone who was there, picking up Mackenzie when he woke up to let your sister have dinner with a little more dignity too. Your heart raced when it was Jongseong's turn to hold the baby in his arms. That scene was unusual and so cute. You didn't know why you were like that.

Maybe it was because of the way he always acted, so naturally and so politely. How he talked to your family, or how he always interacted with you. Showing care in his words and showing that he cared about what you were saying, no matter how small.

Jongseong was the first person you let get a little closer after your mother's diagnosis. He was the only one who was able to talk to you for hours without making you mention your mother, or without making you look at your phone to see what time it was time to go home, or making you uncomfortable with something he said. He was always making sure you were okay or asking if you needed anything.

I need you to stop this, it's dangerous, you answered mentally every time. So dangerous that your heart already felt the possible effects that Park Jongseong was having on you.

“The dishes are on me now” your mother smiled after a long time of talking, denying it in every possible way as Jaeyun and Jongseong tried to run ahead to stop her. The two of them were seeing how stubborn she was, and where you and your sister had inherited it from.

“If anything, you can call me, okay, mom?” you asked.

“Sure, my love. Enjoy it” she smiled in your direction before disappearing into the kitchen. Jongseong and Jaeyun took all the dishes to the sink, at least helping with that while you and your sister still sat at the dining table.

“And I'm going to change someone's diaper because I think we have a surprise here” Hazel hummed as she saw the concentrated faces and expressions that Mackenzie was making. You laughed out loud when you saw your nephew's face turn red, then the farting noises he made.

“Good luck” you said before she left with the little one upstairs for a long diaper change.

“Your sister—” Jaeyun soon appeared.

“Upstairs changing the little boss's diaper” you heard his and Jongseong's laughter at using the nickname everyone was giving the little boy. Your brother-in-law and best friend didn't even wait or say anything else, he followed your sister upstairs, leaving you and Jongseong alone again.

“So…” he said, pulling the chair next to you to sit where you were before. You felt your body tingle when his shoulder touched yours, slowly turning towards the boy.

“So…” you repeated his words, biting your lower lip to keep from smiling so much. Or so he wouldn't look at your mouth again, making you nervous. Not that you weren't at that moment, but something in the air seemed a little lighter between you and Jongseong.

“I was thinking” he rested his elbows on the table, stretching his hands in front of his body and staring at his fingers. Anything to get the courage to speak instead of staring at you, because he knew nothing would come out coherently if he was looking into your eyes. “Would you be willing to have coffee with me sometime?”

You turned so abruptly towards him, that the shock in Jongseong's words caused you a certain panic, but as his eyes reached you, noticing a certain curiosity as he waited for your answer, you relaxed. He seemed as shy and vulnerable as you were at that moment.

“Jay…” you started speaking, noticing how attentive he was as he waited for you to speak “My mother… You know…” and then he smiled. A small, simple smile, but it didn't seem sad. You knew your answer, but you were surprised by his reaction.

“Jake told me you would say that, but I decided to try anyway” he laughed at your expression, and you noticed that your eyes were wide and still in shock.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, it’s okay, I rushed” Jongseong interrupted you.

“No, Jay, you didn’t rush” you said too quickly, fumbling with your words and, most importantly, your actions. In a moment of desperation so that he wouldn’t feel upset or rejected – you didn’t want to reject him, nor were you crazy about it – you held his hands. Your fingers slowly slid between his and Jongseong just let it, feeling your soft skin come into contact with his “I’d love to have coffee with you, but it’s just—”

“We’ll find a way, okay?” he asked “I’ll wait, it’s okay.”

Hot, understanding, and patient. Did that man have any flaws?

You couldn't say anything at that moment, lost in your thoughts and in the caress he began to make with his thumb on your torso. Your eyes quickly met his, and then a smile drew your lips that he loved to see so much up close. Jongseong wanted to feel them too, but one step at a time.

And as he said out loud, he would wait. Jongseong, for sure, would wait.

Getting used to a full house would only be bad when your sister returned to her routine, working at the restaurant after she managed to put Mackenzie in daycare. You thought it wouldn't shake you, after all, it was always you and your mother. You were always the one who ran after everything so that your sister could feel calmer and less overwhelmed.

But you also didn't know that you would miss more laughter and voices in that house. That the antics of your brother-in-law and best friend would fill an environment that only had sadness and regrets. You also noticed how pale your mother started to get after the chemotherapy treatments were becoming more and more invasive.

The conversations with the doctors and nurses were more frequent, both because of your mother's complaints and for them to warn the two of you of what was starting to happen. The hair loss came gradually, and you thought you would be strong enough to deal with it alone. Seeing the clumps of hair in the bathroom and the older woman's teary eyes she tried to say that everything was fine.

It wasn't. And you knew this because you lost count of how many times you sat on the bathroom floor, hugging your mother's fragile body while she cried over the loss of more strands of hair. The scarves were now her best friends. At least something she had chosen a long time ago was helping to keep her a little happier.

Not as much as you would have liked, seeing Mrs. Dorothy crying around the house and staying quiet was worse than hearing her say atrocities. At least she talked to you, mumbled something or simply fought with you to leave the house. You just wanted to hear your mother's voice. But the few conversations you had were on the way to chemotherapy or at the dinners she decided to attend, not when she left you alone in the kitchen with the cold plate in front of you waiting for her to come down.

Not hungry. That was what she usually told you the next morning, and you swallowed it because you no longer had the strength to argue. Hazel would come by every day after work to check on you, talk to your mother – or try to – while bringing her a new hair scarf to wear at her next appointment. That made her smile, at least.

You just wanted it all to end, you just wanted to cry in peace and get all that weight off your shoulders while thinking about nothing but yourself. But thinking about yourself was as far away as you wanted, and opening up about it to your sister was a delicate subject. She would make you drop everything to take responsibility, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her become an absent mother to Mackenzie while you went to take care of your mother. There was no escape.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you something to eat…” you left the bag on the kitchen counter, waiting for your mother to come into the room after another appointment. She smiled at you, in a sad way that broke your heart even more, if that were possible.

“I think I just want to rest now, sunshine” she said quietly, but you heard enough. Her tone was sad, but she tried to encourage you as she looked and smiled in your direction. Your mother leaned down enough to kiss your cheek. “Don’t go without eating, I’m going to go to my room, okay?”

“Mom—”

“My door is open and my phone is fully charged, I’ll call you if I need anything. I promise.”

It was a promise she had never broken, at least. The few times your mother needed you, she called you to run upstairs and help her with trivial things, but she still called. So even though you hated leaving her alone, you decided to trust her and let her rest.

Sometimes it was good for her to be alone for a while to reorganize her thoughts. You were going through this as her daughter, while she was the patient with that damned disease. She was the one who was feeling everything, experiencing it – literally – on her skin and you couldn’t imagine the pain and anguish it was to live with that inside yourself.

Your eyes followed her figure up the stairs and, finally, disappeared from your field of vision through the upper floor of the house.

You let out all the breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes starting to burn as you didn’t know what to do. Would you call Hazel now? Would you leave the house to clear your head? You even thought about sending a message to Jongseong, but nothing that was going on in your head was coherent enough to be carried out. So the only lucid thing you could do was to grab a bottle of wine and drink it in no time.

The bitterness of the drink went down your throat for the umpteenth time, your body was curled up in the corner of the couch while your eyes flickered through the silliest channels without really paying attention to what was happening there. You just wanted to get drunk on wine and go up to your room so you could sleep. But the sound of the doorbell wouldn't let you do that.

Maybe it was time for Hazel to arrive and check on you and your mother, this could happen quickly because you started to get dizzy from a bottle of wine and your mother was already on her tenth sleep if she could be counted. So you got up from the couch to drag your feet to the front door. The speech was on the tip of your tongue because your sister would certainly scold you for drinking without eating anything, but what you found there in front of you didn't look anything like Hazel.

Jongseong had nothing to do with your sister. Only his worried expression and his eyebrows together could be said to be an expression you knew well: concern.

“Y/n… Are you okay?” he asked a little euphoric, but trying to relax little by little when you blinked a few times, trying to assimilate.

“Jay…”

“Gosh, I was worried” he moved his hands from side to side as he gestured and spoke, and you heard the sound of bags, but ignored it for a moment “Hazel said she would come here to check on you and I said I could come after work, she called you and you didn't answer so I—” little by little, Jongseong followed your gaze to his hands, where there were bags he was holding “Oh.”

“What is this?” you asked.

“Answer me first” he said back, looking at you this time. You straightened your posture, a narrowed look in his direction before softening and leaning against the door frame.

“I can’t deal with my problems so I drank an entire bottle of wine—”

“Did you eat, at least?” he interrupted you, seeing you shake your head. For the first time, you noticed a serious expression on Jongseong’s face, as if he was angry with you. And something stirred inside your chest when he walked past you without asking permission and entered your house.

Jongseong wasn’t a stranger, but he also didn’t consider himself an acquaintance to the point of doing this. But combining concern with several other feelings made him act on impulse. You closed the door to the house and simply followed him to the kitchen, where he placed the bags on the counter where you had placed yours a few hours before.

“Jay” you finally called out to him, and he looked in your direction. The same serious expression from before was still there, not softening for a single second. “What are you— What is this?”

Stop stuttering, idiot. Your eyes started to burn because he was mad at you, and you were too drunk to deal with that kind of thing.

“You said you’d have coffee with me, didn’t you?” he asked, waiting for your answer. You blinked slowly to keep the tears away and sighed, nodding positively to the question he had asked. “I decided to bring some things to make coffee here, since that way you wouldn’t leave the house and… Well…”

Now he felt shy enough to verbalize all the effort he was making. Of course, Jongseong had contacted your sister and Jaeyun to see if it was a good idea, especially since he was constantly listening to Hazel’s complaints about your mother’s situation. He didn’t want to demand attention from you, much less for you to go out with him. As he had said that day, he would be patient enough and wait. But nothing was stopping him from bringing the coffee to you.

“So you… You wanted to come have coffee with me?” Your voice was shaky, you felt like you could break down at any moment. No one had ever done that for you in your entire life: demonstrated. You had been around people enough to understand that not everything could be reciprocal, not everything people would make an effort, and that was okay. No one had that obligation.

And seeing that Jongseong didn’t treat it as an obligation, but because he wanted to do it, made you even more vulnerable. Sunghoon’s voice always hammered in the back of your head saying that you had brought the cliché Jongseong back, and if that was him, you were happy to rescue him somehow.

“I didn’t… Damn—” you heard a sob erupt from your throat, realizing you were crying the moment you felt the salty tears run down to your lips.

Everything happened so fast and before you knew it, Jongseong's strong arms were around your waist, pulling you close and nuzzling your face against his chest.

You and him could stay like that for hours and you wouldn't complain. The smell of his cologne was calming your nerves as you cried copiously and sobbed against his light shirt – now completely stained with your makeup – while he said nothing. But the caress on your back and the few kisses on the top of your head could say much more than you wanted to hear.

He didn't know when it was the right time to open his mouth or look at your face, so he let you dictate the time you needed until you gradually stopped crying. Slowly, your face lifted from his chest, finding Jongseong's face now a little softer and his bright eyes looking only at you.

“I'm sorry” you whispered. It didn't surprise you when he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours and lightly brushing the tip of his nose against yours. If it had been before, this would have left you completely static and nervous, but at that moment, it was the most calming thing he had done besides still hugging you.

“Don’t be sorry” he whispered back, the air from his lips hitting yours as one of Jongseong’s hands went up to your face, wiping away some tears.

“Could… Could you…” it would be bold of you to try that, but you needed it. Something inside your heart told you to ask, and that was exactly what you were going to do. “Can you stay here today, please?”

Jongseong smiled a little, still caressing your cheek with his fingertips as he moved down to your jaw.

“I’m glad you asked that” he said, his nose still brushing against yours. You could see the internal battle he was fighting between closing the distance and still respecting you and waiting for everything to calm down so he could get even closer. That in itself was making you even more enchanted because he took care of you down to the smallest detail “Because I wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.”

“Are you the one taking my mother to the doctor today?” Hazel frowned, glancing at Jongseong as she focused on the right amount of green leaves for the dish she was preparing.

He decided to just watch, as the movement was a little slow because it was the beginning of the workday. Resting his hands on the edge of the kitchen counter, he lightly pressed his fingers on the marble to try to contain the emotions that were bubbling inside his chest.

Jongseong thought he was making the same mistake as in his other failed relationships: he was too emotional and had thrown himself into something that hadn’t even come to fruition. He knew you were different from any woman he had ever met in his life, but the slight fear lingered in the back of his mind. What if you spoke like the others, or felt the same way?

You’re such a cliché, Jay. You don’t have to be so emotional.

He always heard that, and after a while, the women would simply leave. Claiming that the problem was the way he showed it. But what could he do if that was the case? That was what Jongseong did when he felt he was worth it.

People who aren’t worthy of you, Hazel would hammer those phrases home whenever he talked about how exhausted he was from people saying he was too emotional.

“My sister is just a little bit cornered because of our mother, but she won’t complain about your cliché” she added one night, one of the many they got together after work to talk about their day and plan their week at the restaurant. Hazel was Jongseong’s biggest supporter of you, and she made sure you two got along.

He was happy about that. Because at least someone, throughout the love life he had faced, wouldn’t think he was crazy for it.

And Jongseong found out that what Hazel – and all the other guys – said and encouraged him when it came to you was true. He was afraid to bring meals to your house and eat in your living room. It was too intimate, but at the same time, it was the only way he had found to be close to you since you never went out. The efforts were worth it with every shy smile you gave when he arrived with the bag of food.

Then, after a lot of talking – and a little arguing on your part – he wanted to take your mother to a doctor's appointment. It wasn't his obligation, of course, but Jongseong felt his heart heavy when he arrived at your house and saw you practically a sleep-deprived zombie. You hadn't slept the day before the exams, getting nervous about how your mother would handle it. So he thought he could take you so you could rest more.

“It's not your obligation and I'm not going to leave my mother alone” he remembers the shine in your eyes, your trembling voice, and the shortness of breath as you tried to hold back your tears. Tiredness, fear, anguish, all together as he stood in front of you, wanting only to do the best.

“I know that.” Jongseong took a few steps toward you, stopping right in front of you. “But nothing I do for you or your mother is out of obligation. I do it because I want to and because I like you both” He didn’t care if that statement – at least on his part – was interpreted romantically. He would make a better announcement, he wanted to say that he liked you more romantically, but for now, that would do. “And your mother will be with me, who said she’ll be alone, Y/n?”

That night he knew he had won the argument and that he had started taking your mother to your appointments so you could sleep a little longer, only on the condition that you both told her every detail when you got home.

Jongseong and Dorothy told you what the doctor had said, of course. But they didn’t tell you that they ate fast food on the way, or that they were late because they were at the mall buying a new scarf for her and a matching shirt for him. Your mother already saw you as a potential son-in-law and Jongseong didn’t deny it when she asked you things about you in the sentimental sense of the word. He wanted to tell you openly about it, and the best way was to start with your mother. Since your sister and brother-in-law were well aware of that.

“I’ll go” he sighed, trying to hide a smile that was forming at the corner of his lips. That didn't go unnoticed by Hazel, who stopped what she was doing to look at her best friend. “It's her last chemotherapy, and we—” he couldn't help himself, his smile widening even more. “We're going in matching clothes.”

“What?” she almost shouted inside the kitchen, surprise taking over and causing Heeseung to enter the place with wide eyes.

“What? Did someone get hurt?”

“Jay and my mother are going to the last chemotherapy in matching clothes,” she practically shouted. “And they didn't tell anyone!”

It was Heeseung's turn to scream, with joy and surprise. He followed Jongseong's advances on you as much as everyone else in the restaurant, being updated by the boy and your sister since you were shy enough to say something when you went to the restaurant to meet them.

“Your mother asked us not to tell, it was supposed to be a surprise” he grumbled, pushing himself away from the counter as soon as Heeseung approached. He knew his friend would mess up his hair or squeeze him, so the further away he was from him at the moment, the better.

“Now you’ve ruined the surprise and we want to see it.”

“Okay, I can bring her after the appointment and you can all see. What do you think?” Jongseong said.

And he kept his promise that day. The short time he stayed at the restaurant was just to get things organized for his friends to drive for the rest of the day, while he ran out to the car and towards his house. His pastel blue shirt was the same color as some details of the scarf your mother was wearing that day.

You didn’t get to see them leave, keeping your promise that you would rest while Jongseong took you safely. He was happy to see that you were trusting him and taking a little more care of yourself, with the fear going away when you saw your mother finally recovered. It was a victory for everyone that she was going to her last chemotherapy.

“Ready, Miss Dorothy?” he asked as he parked, turning off the car and looking at his mother with a charming smile.

“Ready, future son-in-law” she said as excitedly as he was, taking him by surprise even though that had already come out of her mouth a few times. But not calling him directly future son-in-law. Dorothy was just expressing her desire to make Jongseong part of the family. That you would give him a chance and stop being so worried since she was getting better and managing to reach the end of her treatment.

He got out of the car and ran around the vehicle to open the door for your mother, with the way she called him still hammering in the back of his mind.

“Jay” Dorothy called him, intertwining one of her arms with his as they both headed towards the elevator of the hospital building. The path so familiar to both of them is now being taken one last time.

“Yes?” he replied, pressing the floor button while turning his head to her and smiling.

“How about dinner at home tonight? Hazel and Jake are also coming, I wish you were there to celebrate.” She tightened her grip on his arm a little, showing how happy she felt in the boy’s company.

His smile widened, he knew they could celebrate somehow, but being invited by your mother before anyone else seemed a little more special than if he were even invited by you.

“I would love to” Jongseong said finally before the elevator door opened.

Your mother and he left, with confident and determined steps, heading to the oncology desk to finish that cycle.

Life seemed to have taken a huge turn for you in the last few months. Your mother was finally cured of that damned disease. Your routine began to settle down when your sister, along with Jaeyun and Jongseong, managed to call the school where you previously worked. The principal of the place didn't think twice about accepting you back, especially after Hazel told the whole story in a little more detail.

You had omitted a lot of things, saying that your departure had been due to personal problems. It was. But no one needed to know about your mother's diagnosis, much less that you sank into it with no prospect of coming back to the surface.

Now, with the routine of working at school again with your classes, you still lived with your mother until you settled in a new place nearby. A small apartment on the outskirts was all you needed, different from your old place. It was relatively big, you loved it, but after the turmoil in your life… Just a space for you to have your things and sleep now and then was enough.

You let out a small sigh, closing the tab to search for apartments online as you looked around the room. You would have already left school if it weren't for Jongseong's request that he pick you up that day. Something like the two of you having dinner together to unload a tiring Friday was all he needed. And, apparently, so did you.

Because denying him that was out of the question. You remember rarely having denied him anything since the two of you met. Taking into account that he was the only one who managed to make you give in to the tiring routine you had with your mother. It was Jongseong who made you sleep a little longer while he took you to the doctor. You wouldn't even let Hazel drive to the hospital.

Sure, she had a child at home and you were afraid that she would catch something contagious on the way or simply get even more tired. But with him… It was all so much easier.

Jongseong settled into your life effortlessly, with the attitudes you always sought without knowing you needed. He was the one who brought you lunch on the days he was sure you were living on nothing but coffee – he wouldn’t tell you that he had memorized your routine, knowing exactly the days you were most agitated because of your mother’s medication or something she needed to do.

The two of you also started having more nighttime dates, like dinners out with the guarantee that you would take him home early so you wouldn’t be gone for so long. But you bit your tongue about it, because the time with him seemed to fly by and, before you knew it, you had spent the whole night talking to Jongseong and learning a little more about him.

About how he was patient with you all this time, touching you subtly and getting closer little by little, afraid to make a move and invade your personal space or disrespect you. The most you and he shared were kisses on the forehead and hugs that lasted a little longer. A few times you almost made a move, but there were such vulnerable moments when you were crying or exhausted enough to just do something thoughtless.

You also noticed that he would hold back whenever he was close enough, staring at your mouth for a little too long before nibbling on his lower lip, sighing, and looking back into your eyes. It made your heart race, your heartbeat pulsing uncontrollably. Both he and you wanted this, but it seemed like something always happened to make it not right. Yet.

Something inside you was boiling that day. Jongseong asking you to wait at work so he could pick you up was just the icing on the cake of your relationship. You were going to make a move today. There was no way out of it. If he thought it was still too early or that you two didn't need to take that step, that would be fine. You would understand. But you wouldn't stop trying at any cost.

Your cell phone vibrated, still in your hands, and you shivered in the chair with the slight fright you got.

jay: i'm around the corner from the school, can you wait for me in the parking lot?

A simple message, but you smiled at it. There was no need to reply, you just finished organizing your things inside the large bag, going to the bathroom to see your current state.

Shit. You swallowed hard.

Working at a school again made you forget the state you were in when you came home. The denim overalls you were wearing were stained with paint from the straps to the hem around your ankles, much of your arms were also stained with the same colors. Your hair was disheveled in a ponytail and your cheeks were flushed and shiny from the light marathon you ran after some little students during the day.

Well, you could fix that last part by splashing some water on your face. And that's what you did, drying it with a paper towel before leaving the bathroom.

Maybe Jongseong would drop you off at home so you could shower and change, that would take a while since you only needed a few minutes. Get the paint off your skin and the sweat off your body to look a little more presentable.

Picking up your bag again after leaving the bathroom, you walked through the school hallways until you reached the exit, waving to the doorman and some employees who were still there. Arriving at the parking lot, Jongseong was already there. You could feel his smile through the dark mirrors, even though they blocked the view from those outside. You quickly reached the car, opened the passenger door, and slowly got in.

“Hey” he greeted you softly, as he always did.

“Hey,” you said back, closing the door and adjusting your bag in the space between your feet. Turning to him, you smiled at the sight. He had a small, tired smile on his lips, but the sparkle in his eyes was always there when he had you around.

“Long day?” the same question he asked when he came to pick you up, testing the waters to see how you were feeling that day. If he should talk more or let you do the talking. Jongseong loved both.

“Somewhat” you leaned back a little more on the bench, your eyes still on the boy next to you who didn’t look away for a second “I think I prepared an activity that didn’t work out very well in the end” pointing to your clothes, he looked away to notice a little more.

The paints, the variety of colors, and, finally, your face. Your hair looked beautiful to him, even with the strands out of place although you had already tried to fix them with each stroke of your hand. He suppressed a sigh, biting his lower lip.

“You look beautiful like this” he let out, making no mention of any regret as his eyebrows rose.

“Jay, come on” you held back a shy laugh “I’m covered in paint… I was even going to ask you so I could go home and—”

“Actually” he interrupted you, raising one of his hands towards you and taking your hand in his. Jongseong had done this a million times, you had lost count, but it was as if it were the first time with each touch of his against your body. He brought your fingers to his lips, smelling your skin and closing his eyes as if that would calm him down for a moment. “I wanted to ask you if you don’t want to do something simpler today. Maybe different.”

“And what would that be?” you said quietly, afraid that your tone of voice would make him open his eyes. The boy’s breath was beating against your skin, warm and comforting.

“Dinner at my apartment” he squeezed his fingers lightly in your hand, opening his eyes to continue with the sentence “You can take a shower there if you want, I have something that will fit you if you need it.”

Wearing his clothes was quite intimate and different. You had only worn his coats when you went out somewhere and it was cold enough – you always forgot how many clothes you should put on on a cold night – and that was it. Nothing like a sweatshirt or a shirt. Especially taking a shower outside your house. He wasn’t a stranger, anyway.

“You…” your voice faltered a little, he still held your fingers against his lips, occasionally kissing your knuckles when he felt you a little more thoughtful and tense “Are you sure, Jay? We can leave it for another day…”

“I’m sure” he said seriously, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in his voice. He just wanted to steady any uncertainty you might have shown at that moment. He then sat up straight in his seat, still holding your hand lightly enough to intertwine his fingers with yours “My day was full and stressful, but I didn’t want to miss seeing you because…”

For a second he was quiet. One of the rare times Park Jongseong stopped talking mid-sentence without you interrupting him was because he thought he was talking too much.

“Because…?” you encouraged him, squeezing your hand in his for the first time.

With his free hand, Jongseong turned the key in the ignition and let the car slowly start moving. You slid your hand into him, letting him have both hands free so he could drive safely, but your hand still traveled to his shoulder. Soon sliding down to reach the hair on the back of his neck.

A position that screamed couple, but neither you nor him cared about that.

“Because you calm me down in a way” He was looking at the movement on the street now, leaving the parking lot of your work to go towards his apartment “I think it’s better than anything I could try to do in my day to make the stress go away.”

“And is dinner at your apartment a good idea? Don’t you want to rest?” you asked, trying to ignore the agitation of your heart as Jongseong leaned into the small caress you were giving his hair.

“Having dinner with you at my apartment is what I want most right now” he sighed tiredly, looking away for a brief second before returning to the other cars that were in traffic with him. “Taking a shower, talking about anything, and having your company until I fall asleep… I swear, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

This was even more of a couple than the touch you were doing in his hair, sliding your fingers down his neck to his shoulders, returning to the nape of his neck and tangling his hair again.

Even if he didn’t see it, Jongseong knew you were smiling. Shyly or not, he could feel a slight smile on your lips as you let the naked truth come out of your mouth.

Secretly, he also thought it was time to act, that he should take a step beyond what the two of you were. And it could start with you finally going to his house. Getting to know his space since he’d been to your house so many times.

He was taken by surprise when he stopped at a red light and felt the warmth of your lips against his cheek. He quickly turned towards you before realizing that, yes, you were indeed smiling.

“I think that’s the perfect idea” you said so quietly that he had to hold back as much as he could not to stop at that light, take off his seatbelt, and kiss you right there.

So Jongseong was content to wave, smiling a little more than you before moving forward when the light turned green. He was desperately looking forward to being home soon.

Jongseong had such a cozy apartment that screamed, in every corner, how much of it was him. From the colors to the decoration, you were enchanted by that place more than you thought you would be, forgetting the slight nervousness that settled inside you when you got there.

But little by little, he made you relax effortlessly. He guided you through the corners of the apartment and showed you each part, then he went to his room and separated a change of clothes for you that, according to him, were the ones he wore the least. But even so, those pieces smelled like him. The t-shirt and sweatpants smelled like Jongseong and you were becoming more and more addicted to it. To smelling his scent, to knowing that it was calming you to extreme levels.

After taking a shower, having dinner, and cleaning up all the mess you two made, sitting on the couch and watching something while talking was all that was left to do before going to sleep. Neither you nor he had brought up the subject of where you would sleep. In the bed with him? In the guest room? Would he let you sleep in the room alone and sleep there on the couch? If Jongseong didn't say anything, you wouldn't talk about it.

Especially because the weight of his head on your lap, the silky dark strands between your fingers, and the sound of his laughter after a funny subject were your focus at the moment. You wanted to have maximum attention on what was happening above anything else. Listening to him talk about Jaeyun's antics on a workday made you laugh a lot, it helped you share with him some things your best friend did back in the last year of high school.

“And he won Hazel over like that?” Jongseong turned his head to look up, his attention was now on you and no longer on the TV and the entertainment program that was on. Neither of you were paying much attention to that, anyway.

“You bet” you sighed loudly and dramatically, making Jongseong laugh. “These two have been pestering me for a week so I could play cupid.”

“And it worked” He was still looking at you, his eyes half-closed from the shared laughter while the two of you were still on that subject. But as the silence settled in, he remained looking in your direction, and that made your heart race. Your heartbeats went up to your ears as Jongseong’s gaze didn’t let you. “Now they both wanted to return the favor” He lowered his voice enough for you to hear him closer. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but it was low enough for a normal tone of voice.

Your eyes roamed all over his face, trying not to linger on his lips, freshly moistened by the tip of his tongue, which still contained a small smile.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying not to stutter or let your voice fail, but it was becoming increasingly impossible not to be nervous in front of him. Not when Jongseong lifted his head from your lap, sitting next to you on the couch, but without breaking the distance between the two of you.

He looked away for a few seconds and let out a little laugh, and you wondered if it was because of nervousness, shyness, or if he thought you were a fool for asking that. It was the first two, but you would never know that.

“Introducing you to me, making us both go out together whenever we had the chance” he began listing the little things that Jaeyun and Hazel had done for the two of you over the long months. You knew your sister and your best friend had given you a little push about it, but the biggest effort was Jongseong’s persistence.

You felt his hand find yours, his fingers slowly intertwining against yours. That gesture was starting to become familiar to both you and him.

“I didn’t persist in anything, I just… I let it happen because I wanted to” he whispered this time, and your eyes widened when you realized you had let your thoughts out loud.

“I didn’t— I mean… Damn” your low, displeased mutterings at yourself for being caught only made him laugh a little more, pulling your hand to his lap and bringing the other one to your face.

Moving your damp hair away from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at your face.

“Why do you think that way, Y/n?” he asked.

You thought about it for a bit, not knowing what to answer. Why did you think that way about someone who showed so much care and affection for you and the situation you were in without asking for anything in return? Maybe it was because it was something rare, almost nonexistent. No one you know – except for your family and your best friend – would do something like that. But he did. And he did it long before you knew him.

“I don’t know” was the only thing you could answer after a while because it was true. You weren’t sure what to say, but it seemed like he did.

Leaning towards you again, Jongseong rested his forehead against yours. Like that night in your kitchen, the closest gesture you had with each other. His breathing, unlike yours, was calm. Warm against your skin, almost making you sigh.

With a slow movement, he brought one of his hands to your face. His fingertips made their way from your cheek to your jaw, holding your face with all the gentleness you had known from that man in the last few months.

“I know it’s random to say this, but…” Jongseong began, speaking softly and slowly, giving a small smile when he met your eyes. They seemed bigger and more questioning, curious, and that was enough for him to continue, “I want to tell you because all my friends say you brought back the old, cliché Jongseong.”

A nod was enough for you to agree. First, curiosity had been eating away at you since the day Sunghoon had talked about it at the restaurant, the first night you had met all his friends, and him. Then, more and more, someone would say that phrase, making you even more thoughtful. Wanting to ask why that cliché had been hidden for so long.

Jongseong kept his hand holding your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek with random drawings against your skin. His other hand looked for yours and, when he found it, he made sure to hold it with the same affection he held your face. You tried to calm all your heartbeats at that moment as you listened to him speak.

“I was raised in a way that we should show care and gratitude in our way, to the people we love and who do us good” He kept his eyes on yours, never letting them fall anywhere else on your face. Jongseong wanted to capture every second of your reaction and attention as he opened up in that conversation “I've always been someone who did everything for the people around me without expecting anything in return.”

He was too kind and you knew it, but hearing that only confirmed your suspicions. Hearing him say with so much affection everything he did for his friends, for his family. You even dared to let out a little laugh when he told you that he left home at two in the morning to hit the road for the first time and meet Heeseung, who was at the beach house alone and feeling sick.

“He wanted to go before us to organize the house, but he got food poisoning and I ran to take him to the hospital” was the simplest, yet cutest explanation you heard.

That was Jongseong through and through, the guy who had done everything for you, your mother, and your sister in the last few months. Every gesture, every moment of company. The weight you felt thinking you were taking advantage of him gradually faded away as he told you everything he did for people. Until he cleared his throat a little.

“Do you want to stop here?” you said for the first time since you started that subject, feeling your voice crack a little due to lack of use.

“No, it’s okay” you felt him squeeze your hand lightly, a small smile forming on his lips. Resentment? Sadness? You didn't know, but you wanted to hear it anyway “I want you to know.”

You nodded once more and listened to every word with the same attention. You knew that Jongseong would have other relationships. After all, a man like that couldn't have gotten this far without trying anything in life. It was a sin to think that he would be immaculate. But a wave of sadness washed over you, not because of that, but because of the way he started telling the story.

He only had two girlfriends. But they were enough to traumatize him. Jongseong did everything for them, as he did for anyone in his life, but they both ended up the same way: calling him an idiot for doing everything, saying that he was too passive and that the relationship was monotonous. Without adventure and boring. The first one left him less than two weeks after the breakup, going to live abroad. The second one took a while, but she came back to torment him when he opened the restaurant.

“She went there today” he said, almost in a whisper. “After I started making money, it seems like I became even more of an idiot because she tried to get closer out of interest. And that drives me crazy.”

It would drive anyone crazy, of course. You wanted to feel uncomfortable and jealous that someone who had done him so much harm was around on the same day you were with him. But all you could think about was the sadness Jongseong must have felt. Seeing someone he had tried everything for show up just to want something in return.

After all the trauma that followed, he had closed himself off to clichés and managed to do this only to his friends. No one had ever accessed the old, old Jongseong again. Until you arrive.

“That’s why I say that everything I did was because I wanted to” he got a little closer, his breath getting hotter and hotter against your skin “You rescued something in me effortlessly. Something that I thought was buried after what I went through.”

“Now I understand” you replied, letting go of his hands and holding Jongseong’s face between your small fingers. Your touch on his skin sent shivers all over his body. He thought he was warm after his bath and a nice dinner, but your touch made it even better “I just thought I was being a burden because I kept even Hazel away from what was going on.”

“But you don’t have to do this to me” Jongseong had a pleading tone in his voice, you could feel it in every word. “Because I like you and I want to be around to do everything I can.”

I like you. He said. Without pause, without wide eyes or regrets. You smiled without realizing it.

“I like you too, Jongseong. And I promise not to stop you from anything else in my life.”

“Oh, that’s good” he teased “Won’t you stop me if I kiss you now too?” your laugh was the sound he liked to hear the most in the last few months. The sound he liked to tease just to feel complete.

“You can do it whenever you want” was the cue for him to finally lean in and press his lips against yours. They were soft and warm, and you could feel him smile against your lips before parting his to press the tip of his tongue between your lips.

Your hands slid to Jongseong's shoulders and, as soon as he entwined his tongue with yours, tasting you, he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap. You kept your protests of surprise to yourself, settling yourself on his lap at the same time that you became familiar with having his tongue subtly touch yours.

Jongseong was taking it slow, savoring your taste and molding his mouth to yours as he led the pace of the kiss, resting his hands on your waist to keep you in place on top of his lap. Your head was spinning, wondering where he got so much courage to do that… He was the one who took great care to hold your hand, kiss your forehead, and scream into the pillow when he got to the apartment because he had been so close to your mouth and hadn't even managed to lean in.

But now here you two were, pressing your mouths against each other and feeling the rhythm of the kiss change every time Jongseong tightened his grip on your waist or you tangled your fingers in his hair to pull.

The breaking point was when you unconsciously shifted on his lap. The slight brush of your hips against his newly growing bulge made Jongseong gasp against your lips and swallow a moan that he knew would be loud enough. Instead, he slid his lips over yours and down to your neck to kiss and lick your skin.

He had no idea where your sweet spot might be, what to do with you, and how to proceed. Not wanting to cross any boundaries that day. So he went carefully, slowly kissing his way down your neck to below your ear, feeling your body shiver against his lap and your hips press into him a little more. It was your turn to let out a low noise, he knew it could very well be a moan if you weren't so shy.

“Don't hold back for me, Y/n” he whispered against your skin, sliding his teeth on your earlobe and moving down to your neck again “I want to hear you.”

Why had that simple, stupid sentence stuck right in the middle of your panties? Jongseong couldn't be serious, he simply couldn't say that kind of thing and pretend it had no effect on you.

Your response was a small nod, thinking better of returning what he was doing against your skin. As the kisses became more intense and wet, you decided to follow the movement of his mouth against your skin with your hips circling over his. The brush of Jongseong's cock against your pussy, the layer of clothing creating a nice friction in the sensitive area that you and he both wanted to touch so much.

“Fuck” he murmured against your collarbone, his fingers tightening on your hips, but not stopping you from moving on his lap. If he was guiding the pace of the kisses and marks he was leaving on your skin, he would let you guide the pace on his lap.

One of Jongseong’s hands left your hips to pull the shirt you were wearing, the collar going down enough on your skin to show your collarbone where he could continue the session of kisses and marks on you.

Your smile grew, along with the shivers running through your body with each kiss of his and each intensity with which his hips moved. The sweatshirts you both wore weren’t that thick, but it was a hindrance to have that amount of clothing between you and him, even so, it was something you would work on. Not to tease him, but to make it even hotter.

So you pressed your chest against his, hiding Jongseong's face against your neck and collarbone, keeping your hips so close that one movement forward and you could feel the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against your needy clit.

“Jay” you moaned his nickname for the first time, making the boy go into an internal meltdown at how that sounded to him. It was beautiful. A perfect sound that he never thought he would hear in his life. If you moaned like that just because of the way you and him were, Jongseong wanted to imagine the aftermath of it.

“Yes, love” he replied against your skin, lifting his face and placing a slow kiss against your chin. His eyes stared at you with so much affection but at the same time with so much desire that it made your head spin. His hands were still on your hips and he pulled you even further forward, rubbing your clit against the head of his cock again, sliding the entire length over his sweatpants “You're doing so good, you know that?”

You only had the strength to agree, nodding and moaning his name as you moved a little more willingly against Jongseong's clothed cock. He dared a little, the teasing was too much, but he didn't want to stop. Leaning back, he pulled your body along so that you were both more comfortable on the couch.

Now, he had enough strength to support his feet on the floor and push his hips up to go against your movements, so both you and him could feel each other's arousal even more.

Your panties were already sticking against the lips of your pussy, you knew that a few more frictions and your juices would be passing through his sweatpants. It would be shameful if you weren't seeing Jongseong's determination to follow your movements, moaning your name and pressing his lips against your jaw every time he knew he could moan louder when you rubbed in a specific way against his cock.

Something inside you was on fire, the knot in your stomach was getting closer and closer to bursting, and by the way, Jongseong was moaning, grunting, and pushing his hips against yours, you knew he couldn't be that far away.

It wouldn't be shameful to cum like that, after all, the friction was as good as the penetration. And you would be bold enough to ask for this to continue in his room. You promised you wouldn't let anything go by.

Another kiss was initiated, this time by you as you felt your clit throb every time it was pressed in an even more delicious way. The wet noise muffled by the sweatshirt, you couldn't tell if it was from your pussy or his cock, but either way, the pleasure was being very well distributed. You nibbled on Jongseong's lower lip, releasing slightly with a pop as you rested your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

“Jay, I—” you lifted your body, arching your butt a little higher to give more momentum to your movements. He placed his hands on either side of your buttocks, letting you slide down his cock even though you were still dressed.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Your nod was the answer he needed, pulling you into a messy kiss as he thrust his hips again and intensified the rubbing with you.

The feeling was surreal. Cumming in your panties while still riding your orgasm with the shallow thrusts and over the clothes that Jongseong gave you to help you reach your peak. You moaned against his mouth, watching him swallow all your moans just as you did with his. His hips stuttered, but never really stopped to prolong that sensation until it bordered on overstimulation.

You fell against his chest, tired and panting. A little embarrassed by the sticky feeling between your legs, your cheeks started to heat up and you wondered if it was from the orgasm you had just had or if it was because reality was setting in and you had just dry-humped Jongseong.

Your eyes slowly opened, searching for his as he was already looking at you. A tired smile adorned the lips you loved kissing, along with a blush on the tanned skin you were addicted to. Both you and him looked down at the same time, and his chuckle made you feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn't just your sweatshirt that was sticky, but the large stain on his pants told you that the orgasm had been intense for both of you.

“We can clean ourselves up and lie down if you want” he whispered, his voice husky and deep, sending shivers down your entire body even after the intense orgasm you had had. Leaning towards him, you kissed Jongseong's lips and smiled slowly.

“Or we can continue this after we clean up too” you whispered back.

“Bold” he chuckled softly, “But I like it.”

“That’s good, right?”

“That’s great” he finished, kissing you once more before hugging your body to his. “Since you’re being bold, can I too?”

He had more time to be bold than you that night, but you would never stop Jongseong from being bold. From being cliché. You would never stop him from anything. So you just agreed, feeling him hug you even tighter as you hugged him back.

“I wanted to tell you that this apartment is too big for just one person” he hummed, his face slowly hiding in the crook of your neck. His smile grew bigger and bigger as he saw the fresh marks on your skin starting to turn a reddish color. You chuckled softly, already imagining where the conversation was going “Maybe you and I can share it. Only if you want, of course.”

He shrugged, outwardly pretending that it didn’t matter. But deep down Jongseong was afraid of your answer. He was afraid that he had been too invasive, even though the moment you two shared a few minutes ago had been more than intimate.

“Are you asking me to live with you?” your tone was playful, but even so, he still didn’t dare to look at you. He kept his face buried in your neck. He only agreed with a slight nod as he murmured, “I’ll need to see if your bed is good to sleep in every night, then.”

“Or we can do it on the couch every day. It’s comfortable here, isn’t it?” He finally lifted his head, his bright and inviting eyes making you sigh – internally and externally. It was your turn to rest your forehead against his, brushing the tip of your nose against Jongseong’s.

“Anywhere is comfortable with you” you whispered, kissing him slowly “You’ve convinced me.”

“Great” it was his turn to kiss your lips, sliding his hands from your waist to your legs, picking you up. Finally, he stood up with you in his arms, accompanied by your little screams and laughter along with his “Because I didn’t intend to let you go, anyway.”

It was so good to have let him into your life. And even better that he stayed because, honestly, you didn’t know if you would have been able to endure everything up until that moment without him.

You would be immensely grateful to your sister and Jaeyun for having introduced you that day at the restaurant, after all, they were both just repaying what you did years ago. Jongseong was right about that.

695 notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year ago

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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birdiewritessometimes · 3 months ago

Note

hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc i’m obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harry’s twin sister or smth would EAT

All His

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3

I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3

Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.

Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3

Also request something if you want to!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader

Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)

Word count: 4000 - ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.

“Really, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.” You said with an eyeroll. “Or at least shut up.” You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.

“We weren’t-” Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.

“I must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,” You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “but I didn’t think he was your type.” Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious? Riddle?” Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I don’t care who wants whose babies, just shut up.” Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Relax Ron, I’m just going to get another book.” You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as ‘cute’. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.

“Reading up on your ancestry, Potter?” He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?

“Are you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.

“Isn’t that the same thing for you?” He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, “Hateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldn’t believe you’d just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didn’t seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.

“Thinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?” He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasn’t known for being a ladies man you might’ve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasn’t a secret that Harry and Mattheo didn’t like each other. This was also a reason why you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.

“Oh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.

“You’re blushing.” He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.

“Always a pleasure, Potter.” He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think you’re capable of making a woman feel pleasure.” You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.

“What the hell took you so long?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The book was just hard to find.” You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an ‘outstanding’ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.

You couldn’t sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didn’t have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didn’t work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.

“Shut up, Potter or we will be caught!” A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.

“Shit.” You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldn’t help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.

“You like what you see?” He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldn’t process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.

“Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.

“But I won’t, not until you ask me to.” He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.

“Fuck you, Mattheo.” You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.

“I am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.” You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.

“Are you going with someone else?” You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.

“Well, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.” She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” She said with a frown.

“It kind of is, Hermione.” You said, still chuckling.

“Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t go with Riddle.” She retorted.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because it’s obvious that you like each other.” She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.

“We do not!” You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.

“Stop daydreaming about me and watch where you’re going, love.” He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.

“Please, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.” You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheo’s friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.

“I heard you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Boot.” He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Why? You jealous, Riddle?” You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.

“Of him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think I’m fine.” He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut up.” You said, annoyance in your voice.

“You shut up.” He said back, getting closer to your face.

“Make me.” You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.

“Okay, but you might moan a little.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.

“You were saying something about not liking each other?” Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.

“Not a word.” You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didn’t seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.

“Hermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.” Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.

“Oh, here he comes.” Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.

“Where did she go?” Cormac asked.

“To the ladies room.” You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.

“Well, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as we’re here, alone, we might as well.” He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.

“Get your hands off her.” A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormac’s grip faltered but he didn’t let go.

“Look man-” He started, but Mattheo didn’t let him finish.

“There is nothing you could say that won’t make me break your face if you don’t get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.” Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheo’s under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.

“I should be the one asking that, but I’m fine.” He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not.” You stated as a matter of fact.

“I am.” He was still sounding extremely tense.

“That’s not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?” You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.

“I was not, I just don’t like slimy guys.” He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.

“You’re such an asshole. If you weren’t jealous, why would you threaten Corm-”

“Okay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Boot” he spat his name, “because he had the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen as his date” he gestured to you, “I was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldn’t be jealous, because you aren’t even mine, yet here I am.” He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.

“Kiss me, asshole.” You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldn’t kiss you unless you asked.

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.” He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.

“My eyes!” You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.

“Really y/n? Riddle?” Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up Harry, go away.” You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didn’t say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“You can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because I’m yours.” You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.

“There, all mine.” He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.

“All yours.” You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.

“I could listen to you saying that all night.” He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughorn’s party after all.

“If you play your cards right maybe you will.” You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.

“Well, handsome, I’m going to rejoin my date for the party.” You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.

“I might be yours now, but I wasn’t when I agreed to be Terry’s date for tonight.” You said a teasing note in your voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.

#fan fiction #harry potter #x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x potter!reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #potter!reader

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lilreidgirl · 2 months ago

Text

Bored

Summary: Your husband, Spencer, changed after getting out of prison and you finally snap

Warnings: Inspired HEAVILY by "bored" by billie eilish (my wife!!), kinda toxic relationship? and kinda toxic Spencer?, sex mentioned so MDNI(18+), not wanting sex but still having it mentioned, arguing mentioned, crying, let me know if i forgot anything!, English is not my first language, NOT PROOF READ

WC: ~1.4k

A/N: This is so bad, I just made it cause i love Billie, Spencer and angst, perfect combo BUT this is also my first angst fic so yayy!!!!

You knew it would be hard, Spencer getting out of prison and all, but you never expected this much of a change in your life. We all like to think that we aren’t extremely dependent on our relationships and that our state of mind doesn’t depend on them, but that’s not true.

Ever since he had gotten out of that horrid place, the cage they locked him in for something he didn’t do, the tortures walls he found himself to be for 3 traumatizing months, he had been different. That’s of course what one would expect, but you were hoping that with a bit of help and a lot of love, he would be alright. He wasn’t.

It started off with simple things, not wanting to touch you at all which you understood and naturally respected, staying longer at work, not being interested in what you had to say and not saying much himself either. It broke your heart seeing this empty and numb version of him, because that hollow person was supposed to be your husband.

It’s not like you didn’t try and help him get out of the dark place he was so obviously in. You have it your all, trying to get him to talk to you about what he’d been feeling, trying to make him feel some joy and normalcy but nothing worked. You were getting used to it. You were getting bored.

It was yet another night where you sat home alone, you wondered where he was, wondered if he was truly “working late” like he had so curtly informed you over text. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to all the possible things he could be doing instead of being here -- at home with his wife. God, it was unfair. You knew it was wrong to think such a thing after everything he had gone through, but couldn’t he see how you were struggling with him? How you needed him just as much as he refused to admit he needed you?

Finally as the hands on the clock showed 11:23 P.M., the door opened and Spencer walked in. His hair was unruly and a scowl that nowadays seemed to be permanent was present on his face. The tie, that you had tried to help him put on that morning but he had slapped away, hung loosely around his neck, laying unorderly on his button up shirt.

“Hi,” you said, cringing at the meekness and eagerness in your voice. Truth was this was probably the only conversation you guys were going to have for hours based on past events, so who could blame you?

“Hey,” he responded as he turned around to put his bag and shoes to rest next to the now closed door.

“How was your day?” you asked, trying to keep it simple as to not “scare him away”.

“Good.” Gosh you could roll your eyes at the bleakness of his unflavored answer.

“And how are you?” You tried again, hoping for more this time as you put the book you were reading down and unconsciously leaned towards him.

“I´m fine.” The smile on your face felt as faked as ever now, the corners of your mouth willing themselves remarkably to stay up.

“You, um- you promised you’d come home on time tonight, I made your favorite meal,” you hoped your tone didn’t sound accusatory -- the last thing you wanted was to make him upset. “It’s not like I’m in control of that.” The slight venom in his words made you almost physically flinch. He sighed exhaustedly before reluctantly muttering a small, “Sorry.”

“You going to bed?” he asked. You knew what that meant. Basically all the interactions between the two of you were short “hello´s”, heated arguments, and sex. He quite clearly wanted this short “hello” to turn into the third option. As painful as it is to admit, you were inclined to accept, to shut your mouth and go to bed. But you knew that if you did, it would be taking one step further into this dull life and marriage that now stood before your very eyes.

“No.” You shook your head as a small repeating of your response. “No? C´mon, I’ve had a long day,” he sighed again, tilting his head as he spoke, his frustration already to be seen on his face.

“I´m tired. And I just don’t want to.” You had by then made your decision; you were going to stand your ground.

“Just this once?” It was a weird thing to hear coming from his mouth, the one that had not so long ago, asked you again and again and again if you were “alright with this” and “sure”?

“It’s already been more than once, Spencer,” you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth -- they lay before you in a tense silence.

“What?” You couldn’t say what he was feeling at that moment, his tone directing your thoughts to a variety of different emotions -- none of which were positive.

“It’s nothing-,“ you started but quickly got cut off. “No, no, it’s not ´nothing`. You’re saying… you’ve slept with me multiple times when you didn’t want to?” His hazel eyes stared at you, the familiar comfort you had once known in them gone – you tried to convince yourself it was just the dim light of the living room but at the back of your mind you knew it wasn’t.

“I…” you didn’t know what to say, all thoughts leaving your brain as he looked at you in horror. All but one; he cared. “W- Why?” He studied you intently, taking in the way your body slightly curled in on itself when his voice seemed to raise. God, he really didn’t mean to.

“Well… I just thought if I could at least give you this whenever you wanted… you wouldn’t leave. It’s not like we do much else together – that and fighting.” You admitted as you felt tears prick up in your eyes. He motionlessly stood in shock -- you could almost hear how loud his thoughts were from where you were sitting on the couch.

“…But I can’t do it anymore,” you murmured when the silence that took over the room got too much for you to bear, “I can’t keep giving you every piece of me while you…” you trailed off, feeling a gnawing feeling settle in your chest, a feeling of wrongdoing. He was struggling, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“I’m honestly getting bored of trying to get you to acknowledge me.” You watched with solemn eyes as his long legs took rushed strides so that he ended up by your side. He bent his legs, squatting down in front of you. That fear from before was still in his expression but now accompanied regret.

“I… I’m so sorry,” His hands came up to cup your face, as he tried to figure out how to word the immense amount of emotions coursing through him.

“I’m sorry, baby, I- I never meant to hurt you… I know I haven’t been in a good headspace lately. I’m going to try, okay? I’m so sorry.” He pulled you towards his chest and you immediately accepted the gesture, burying your face in his messy shirt as you started to sob.

“I just-,” you sputtered between sniffles and sobs, “I wish- I wish you would love me like you used to, love me just for being me.”

“I do, I do, I really do,” he tried to reassure you, his voice breaking. “I’ve been a mess and I’ve been mean, but I love you just as much as I did before. No, more. I love you. I love you so damn much.”

The rest of the night consisted of him repeating that phrase, that truth as he cradled you against his chest, and talking about the ways things had been, how they should be in the future – can be – will be. And as you woke up, opening your tired eyes and turning to the side, your eyes met him – your husband.

And for the first time in months, that brought a bright smile to your face.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #post prison reid

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gavisuntiedboot · 6 months ago

Text

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 2/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 here. Word count: 5.1 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Part two! I don't usually rec music for my fics but if this fic was a song, it would be Dead can Dance’s In Power we Entrust the Love Advocated.

You wake up with a giant plastered on your back.

His bed is far more comfortable than your own, soft and cushy, and there must be flowers somewhere in the hay because there is a surprisingly pleasant odour lingering in the air as you come to. The mattress overall doesn’t reek of too much sweat: some poor slave must change the fillings often enough for König’s stench not to settle on the bed. Actually, you’ve slept quite nicely, despite being embraced by an ogre the whole night.

König has slept like a stone, too, but stirs when you start to shift. You turn on your back and find his drowsy stare on you: it’s generous and warm as he pulls you closer to him. You could roll your eyes when you notice he’s hard down there again – he’s probably hard all the time, whether in bed with a woman or raging on the battlefield, sticking his swords into some poor man’s gut.

“Gut geschlafen?” He asks, and you reckon he’s trying to ask if you’ve slept well – in his domain, in his embrace, after he just slaughtered half of your village.

You give him another pout, which is starting to become your signature expression now. He replies to your grumpiness with a smile, his own trademark move, the one that threatens to strip you from all your arms. He squeezes you fondly against his chest, and then his hand starts to wander: he plays with your tits again, then slinks further down to brush your navel. When he crosses the border and heads straight toward your womanhood, you seize his arm.

He whines softly at your refusal, but to your surprise, he actually stops. You let him go as he moves back up and stay immobile under his touch, amidst the flowery scent and the faint stench of dirt and man sweat, sighing as he cups your breast again. He doesn’t seem to get enough of them, and they’re beginning to feel sore: he gave them so much attention last night already and is now at them again.

You pull his hand away, but this time, he doesn’t respect your wishes but resists you. Trying to hinder a man who’s as strong as a bull is futile, but you have an attempt at it anyway. It turns into a play fight: you wrench his hand down, he drags it back up. Up and down and up and down, as if your breast is a hill he needs to conquer at all costs. But he’s the only one who finds any amusement in your silly game: eyes narrowing again with a smile, a few soft chuckles under that hood telling you he enjoys it when you fight him a little.

It all ends when you finally slap him.

It’s neither a good nor a hard slap, and his mask muffles whatever sound was supposed to give you at least some measure of satisfaction.

But he stops... And laughs.

“Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige.”

His language is harsh and throaty, abrupt, and you tell him that, safe with the knowledge that he can’t understand a word you say either.

“You talk ugly,” you complain and watch him up and down, searching for a clue that would tell you that he somehow understands your insult. König simply thunders with another mirthful laugh at your morning crank.

“Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg.”

He looks down at you like he’s the Sun God now, thoroughly life-giving and kind. Then he dares to bend forward and press a kiss on your forehead.

“Go away,” you try to push him back with your hands - the hood prevents you from feeling his skin and breath and lips, but the… intimacy is still too much.

“Brute,” you want to spit the word out but end up sounding like a child attempting to quarrel instead. And he’s laughing at you again, both with his eyes and his mouth, covered by that darned hood. You don’t know why on earth you would think that such a charming laugh must come from an equally charming mouth.

He finally retreats and rises from the bed, stretching out his arms. The broad muscles on his back are exposed to the frigid air and his cock is jutting out, long and veined, completely unaffected by the cold. This beast is ripe and ready for another day, and you swallow when you see him in his full glory again, tall and wide and strong, looking like he’s about to eat an entire boar and fuck ten women in the process.

“Schön,” he comments as he turns to look down at you, lying naked and sweet there in his bed. He looks at you like you are the most lovely, adorable, difficult little thing. He even gives his horse cock a few good strokes while taking your sleepy little pouts in.

“Ugly,” you slur back, and he winks at you.

Gods… You’re too hot and riled to even speak.

You choose to vehemently stay in bed as König starts his day: eats some fruit from the table - still naked - pours himself some wine and washes his mouth with it, tears a handful of bread from a loaf and starts to eat with his mouth open, munching loudly under that hood, walking around without bothering to cover himself and that ungodly erection that is bouncing in the air without a care in the world.

You, on the other hand, escape back under the warm covers of the furs, but your eyes never leave König. He draws the draping flap of his tent aside - still naked - giving his soldiers a good view of his morning wood, a lovely chance to get a look at their champion. Perhaps it’s his way of saying good morning, you think bitterly. Then he leaves, probably to take a piss, and you’re more and more convinced that this man is the worst beast that has ever walked this earth.

You’re still under the furs when he returns and finally gives you the grace of clothing himself. It’s stupid that you mourn losing the sight of those shoulders and feel a bit disappointed when his cock disappears under the red tunic. His manhood doesn’t look any less intimidating even when growing soft; it’s still long and veiny and thick, and you find yourself… curious. Just curious.

He doesn’t put his armour on this time, chooses to wear only his tunic and sandals and a pair of hard-boiled leather cuffs to protect the vital veins on the wrists. He does take one Gladius with him, though - a sign of distrust in his own men or a Roman custom, you can’t tell.

He’s already at the mouth of the tent when he turns and points at you, now with a good amount of sternness in his voice.

“Du. Bleibst.”

…

He’s away the whole day. Probably drawing plans at some field war council, eating and drinking and bouncing some poor girl on his knee.

Even the thought makes your nose wrinkle and your stomach churn. Of course there are other trophies, and of course men want to show them off, pass them around, give their commanders a chance to give each woman a good squeeze. König has probably stuck that cock into a few women by now. Moaning, screaming women.

Or then he just settles for annoying their poor senses out of them…

You can’t deny that you’re relieved he hasn’t thrown you to the wolves yet, not even after you denied him. Wondering why on earth he would even want to listen to your wishes gives you an awful headache, and the image of him laughing at - or with - some other shy captive girl is making you uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that you throw the skins away after noon, and decide you’re not going to just succumb to your fate, least of all give in to sadness and apathy.

You eat this and that from his table like you’re not a slave girl but an honoured guest, a queen. You eat his figs and his bread and some smoked meat; you even drink some of his wine, as sour as it is. You’re a bit tipsy when you go through all his belongings, which are not as abundant or exciting as you thought they would be.

You thought you’d find tiny chests filled with gold coins and rings. You thought you’d come by dried body parts taken as trophies, perhaps the crown of some long-forgotten Hibernian king. But there are only a few trinkets under his bed, a huge bow and some arrows, his armour and the second Gladius, perfectly stored above the ground so that rust and mould wouldn’t bite them. There are jugs of wine and some firewood and oil for the braziers, there’s water and benches and the table and lots and lots of candles in different shapes and sizes… But that’s it. There’s no hoard, no treasure, nothing to prove to you that this brute is just another Roman soldier trying to gather a fortune by raping and pillaging so that he can go and retire early from all the bloodshed.

And it makes you shiver. Does he do this just for the sake of it, only because he enjoys killing so much? What is his reason to fight?

The only item that sends an odd sting in your heart is a small wooden statue. You feel like a thief when you rummage through a small satchel you find next to his breastplate, the only place you didn’t feel like peeking into because it looked so… personal.

Proving to yourself that you don’t care about his privacy or feelings, you end up pushing your fingers inside it anyway, meeting this peculiar carved piece of wood. There is nothing else there in the satchel, just the statue, and you feel yourself swallow a lump in your throat as you see it depicts a lush, buxom woman. Her breasts are nearly the size of her belly, larger than her head, and you realize that it is clearly the statue of the Great Mother this brute carries with him.

You put it back quickly, feeling a tingling in your fingers and a rapid flutter in your heart, as if you had just poked into something quite sacred. And it is sacred, the Mother. You wonder why, for the love of all the gods, this man would keep such a divine and fertile amulet near him. The statue is supposed to be a vessel for wishes and fortune; it is an idol of worship. König seems like the last man on earth to take up worshipping women.

You just want to get out of this place but can’t. There’s no one to go back to: your chief is dead, the people have fled, the rest of the warriors are scattered across the land. You have no idea where your brother might even be.

You have no wish to escape this tent; you have no desire whatsoever to step a foot outside and show yourself to his hungry men.

König comes back after nightfall and is not surprised at all to find you haven’t escaped. He’s not surprised that you have eaten some of his food either; he doesn’t even scold you. But then the eternal groping starts again as he gets undressed and lays himself down next to you.

You don’t even know why you allow him to touch you. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s better to just let him caress you if he wants; it’s better to suffer the weight of his hands on you if it means he won’t rape you with that cock. If you don’t complain, perhaps he will settle for squeezing and petting and stroking you.

But your body is a traitor: it’s hungry for him, for some ungodly reason, and always craves for more. You say to yourself that you only allow this to happen because it’s a condition, a compromise, a meeting in the middle. You never acknowledge the way your nether lips puff up like a fat flower every time he fondles your breasts. You pay no attention to how wet you get when he caresses your face, your waist, even your thighs, every part of you except the place between your legs, the place you kind of want him to touch... If only he would be gentle and didn’t get too excited, you’d let him touch you there, too, as sick and accursed as it is.

And it’s all good until he starts to hum.

It may be some song from his homeland, the land of ugly brutes, but it’s not a crude giant song… In fact, it’s a rather beautiful, melancholy tune. Your body is relaxed and your pussy is wet; your nipples are tight and pleased as he pets you slowly, lovingly - but that song is too much. You don’t want him to see you cry, not even a single tear, and now there’s an entire flood about to occur.

“Don’t touch me,” you whisper, trying not to choke on your sorrow. He doesn’t stop - of course he doesn’t. He gets bolder by the day, and he can see that you’re enjoying yourself. In a way.

"Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden?" He asks, soft and tender, so incredibly gentle that the tears are about to burst forth at any given moment now.

“Ich glaube das tust du,” he rumbles when you don’t answer him. His hand is heavy and broad on your hip as he finally stops caressing you. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it causes the glimmer in your eyes to fall. Tears roll down your cheeks and into your hair, as you lie there next to a titan, about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…?”

You want to shout at him to shut up already, to stop talking so gently, asking you questions you don’t understand, to stop trying to find a way to communicate with you through song and hum and touch. The hand on your hip moves, slowly, with devastating cunning towards your core. He’s about to touch you there, to try and feel if you’re wet... If you’d like it that he pounded you a little. You wonder if he would do that gently too, and almost laugh through your tears. It will be your undoing if he finds out that you’re soaked all the way to your thighs, aching to feel him inside you, even a finger, just something…

“No… Nein,” you rule out sternly, opening a new way of communication. You don’t know if the word is correct, but he catches it immediately and stops.

“Nein?”

He sounds both happy and sad; happy that you try to use his language, sad that you use it to give him such a disappointing command.

“No touching,” you repeat and open your eyes, finding his hazy figure hovering above you. You barely discern the gulf of sadness in his eyes, but it is there: undisguised, trying to reach out and join with yours. Gods… How strangely appropriate it is that you are both so very alive, wanting to be devoured by each other’s hunger and lust, only to find yourselves on the brink of tears and hollow loss.

“No... No touching…”

“Verstanden.”

He takes his hand away from you and turns, not even joining you under the fur tonight.

…

The next morning, you wake up attached to him.

Somehow you’ve managed to wriggle under his furs and, on top of that, crawled to hug his side like this. You blame the spring cold for it, of course. Your heart bangs against your ribs as you notice how tightly you’re squeezing him, breasts pressed flush against his hard middle, belly fluttering against his hip. You’ve even draped your leg across his so that your poor, lonely cunt is resting right there over his thigh.

You swear in your mind with all the words and terms you know and can think of.

How the hell are you supposed to detach from a giant without waking him up? His arm is around you, holding you loosely in a warm, pleasing shackle. He feels so, so good - blazing, big and safe, so incredibly nice. You never knew sleeping next to a man could feel so nice. You’re half asleep still, mainly because his body and scent make you feel like you’ve had too much wine again.

You allow yourself a few more moments before you rip yourself off him. Or at least, try to: the arm snares you the instant you attempt to move. It prevents you from leaving him, and you end up hovering awkwardly there, almost on top of him, tits pointing straight at his face, panicked, doe-eyed stare guided to his unwavering blue eyes, open, and regarding you with warm love.

And the damned man smirks again.

“No touching?” He inquires with silly, completely feigned shyness.

“Shut up,” you breathe and try to get off of him, but his other hand comes to brush your cheek next, and you freeze.

“Schön… Pretty,” he tries, and you nearly whimper at the sound of your native tongue in his mouth.

Pretty… Is that what the word means, the odd ugly word he has repeated ever since he stole you?

His eyes are warm and his hand is gentle as he caresses your cheek, and the snare around your waist tightens. Softly… Invitingly.

“Stop it,” you whisper, on the brink of tears again, because this time, your shields and armour and weapons are gone. You just woke up to a feeling of odd contentment, fulfilment, even joy.

And it’s not right.

He has no right to be this gentle with you.

You sniffle and sigh, and cast your eyes down to the chest that belongs to a giant. But you can’t deny that there must be a heart under there. A human heart under your palm. Your hand is right there over the strong beat because you’ve tried to push yourself away, and he won’t let you go. Another tear falls somewhere in the hair of his chest, and he rumbles with such compassion that you want to slap him again, hit his chest with your tiny little fists and bawl.

What you do instead is break down and let the ocean take you. You cry and sob and wail, right there in front of him, until he turns you on your stomach and comes to rest halfway on top of you. Through your tears, you understand that he’s trying to soothe you with his weight. It’s pure insanity how well it works. It releases a whole well of grief, and you start to shake with the cries; your whole body shudders with the sorrow as you retch it all out while König continues to caress you like a pet. He strokes your hair, pets your back, he even pats your ass as if you’re just a baby.

You cry long and hard, so long that he eventually lets out a long, deep sigh. When you’ve calmed down a bit and remain still, sniffling occasionally while squeezing the furs in your fist, trying to remember what it is to be an animal with feelings other than just sorrow, he leaves you.

He simply rises, and gets dressed, and leaves.

That is very much what you don’t need right now, much to your surprise. He was good at consoling you, as odd as it sounds.

Cold starts to creep in when there is no warm body next to you, and your skin misses the calloused gentleness of his palms. You wouldn’t mind if he wanted to hum that song to you now. But the darned bastard had to leave just when you were about to turn and cup his hooded face in return...

König comes back after a short while, but he’s not alone. You gather the furs against your chest, horrified and angry when you notice he returns to the tent with a short old man, vigorous and busy, but so tiny in stature that you doubt he was ever a warrior. You wonder if this is another foreigner or if you have the dubious pleasure of meeting your first genuine Roman.

They both stare at you, quite nonchalantly, while you sit there on the bed and try to cover your nakedness with animal skins while having red eyes and a pair of uninviting, quivering, puffed-up lips.

The short fellow looks you up and down, then turns to talk to König in what appears to be this giant’s mother tongue. It’s a curt suggestion, muttered under his breath, and you realize König must’ve fetched a translator for you.

Oh, good Mother... Great Mother.

You watch these two men before you in a state of stunned shock, as König looks at you, then back at the old man, and nods. The Roman looks slightly vexed as if he just got up too. Then he starts to speak.

“Excuse our manners... We are men at war. If you wish to get dressed, we will wait outside.”

You blink at your own language being spoken to you, perfectly discernable but accompanied by a thick accent. You nod, and the men leave, returning only after you’ve dressed and cleared your throat in the tent.

“He asks if he killed your husband,” the translator starts immediately while König goes to sit on his favourite Roman bench. You’re wide awake now, and the nauseating feeling of being suddenly in the middle of an interrogation rises to your throat with a clot.

“He… What? No,” your eyes dart to König, who is looking at you with his undying ardour. For a man with so much sadness in his soul, he’s surprisingly carefree when he wants to.

“Do you have a husband?”

You gulp at the questions levelled at you. König keeps watching you intently, and you choose to look at the old translator instead, shaking your head slowly. The men exchange a few words, and the Roman turns to scold you with his stare.

“Master reminds you that it is wrong to lie,” he says, putting a lot more weight on his words this time. Roman or not, he calls this giant master, which means that he is just another slave in this camp. You swallow again and try to think, think, think; all the while König’s stare strips you of all your pretences, garments and words.

He thinks you’re trying to hide some imaginary husband, you understand and consider whether you should say that you have a husband: if there is any benefit you could gain from such a lie. König would only probably try to hunt him down… But what if he found out you were telling him tales? Would he feed you to his horny war dogs then?

“I’m not lying,” you say through slightly gritted teeth.

There is another exchange of words before the translator turns to you again.

“Are you untouched?”

“What…?”

“Master asks if you are a virgin.”

The translator is utterly unfazed, and mainly looks like he has better things to do than get to the bottom of whether there has been a cock inside you yet.

“That’s none of his business,” you hiss. The old man turns and starts to translate your words with a dull look.

“Wait—don’t tell him that,” you take a panicked step forward.

Oh good Father in the Sky… Strike these men down so that I may be freed from them.

They pay you no attention; a few sentences pass from mouth to mouth, and the old man nods.

“Master says you are clearly a maiden,” he declares. You peek a glance at König, who is looking at you with hunger, and not the kind of hunger people look at their breakfasts with. Your breathing is getting out of hand, and when he opens his legs wider, clearly making more room for a rising cock, you decide to throw caution in the wind.

“You know what? Your master can go fuck himself with a stick for all I care…!”

The old man turns. He doesn’t even care to sigh; he merely opens his mouth to give your words to König.

“Don’t you dare translate that!”

Finally, the old man sighs. He looks at the ceiling as if begging his gods to take him away from this tent. König’s stare flashes between you two, and he is evidently curious. Clearly, this is the most exciting conversation he’s ever had.

“Was sagt sie?”

“Tell him that I want to be freed,” you hurry to say before the translator can tell your insults to König. After a brief conversation, König leans forward in his chair to see the effect his words have on you.

“He says he can’t do that,” the Roman informs. “His soldiers will find you and take you.”

You close your mouth and try to even your breaths. No one says, You don’t want that. Everybody in this tent knows you don’t want that.

“He asks if he killed your brother or your father.”

You sniffle, quite involuntarily.

“No. He didn’t.”

“Then why are you angry and sad?”

There is a hint of genuine interest in the man’s voice. Both of these men are confused as to why you would bawl your eyes out after the massacre of your people.

"Because… Because he…"

“He says it is a man’s duty to die in battle. You should be proud of your fallen ones, not cry and feel sorry for them.”

“Tell him that he can go fuck himself,” you shout, not giving a single shit anymore about whether he translates the words or not.

To no one’s surprise, he does.

“He says he’d rather fuck you,” he returns to you with König’s message.

You can’t bear to look your captor’s way, and still, that’s exactly what you do. You look at the giant as he stares at you, keen and hard and patient. But you know his patience has its limits. It’s almost like a promise, the way he leans forward in that chair and looks at you from under the hood, shameless and challenging.

“Never,” you guide your words to König now. It’s a brave little whisper, but you know that it’s a lie. Even the Great Mother knows you’re lying. You almost hear the cackle of the old woman rising from the earthen ground, from the chthonic depths, to mock you and your vows.

You hear the old man’s words from somewhere far away, from underwater, as König’s stare wrestles you down and takes away your little knife. He subdues you even when he’s sitting, and shares a string of words: a harsh promise. You hold your breath as his cock gives a pulse under that tunic, and your eyes fall, fall, fall onto it, because there’s no escape…

“He says he can make you feel good,” the voice says, and you can’t even hear who speaks. Your mouth is full of water, but you swallow it down, then shoot your way up to the surface, up, up, up into the sunlight, until you can breathe again.

You rip your eyes from König and look at the Roman translator with loathing and contempt.

“You can leave now. This conversation is over.”

Then you turn, trying not to pay any attention to the hushed conversation that proceeds behind your back. The man leaves the tent: you can hear it, and you can also hear how König rises from the chair and walks right behind you.

“No… afraid,” his hands come to rest on your shoulders, but you don’t even flinch. You knew he was going to touch you again. Perhaps you were even looking forward to it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you start to argue, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“You like trees?”

He speaks your words, not good, but he speaks them. You wonder if he has known parts of your tongue all along and has simply concealed it. Has he understood what you’ve said to him…? All the slurs and stupid things? Mother, grant mercy…

“Why would I like—What kind of question is that?”

“Climbed a tree,” he explains cheerfully behind you. You turn and look up, yet again rendered weak. Giants are supposed to be stupid. They’re not supposed to know the language of faeries…

“Nosy,” he brushes your cheek with a smile in his eyes.

“Nosy?”

You huff - as if you wanted to be there and witness him.

As if you had a choice after the seer pushed you on this insane, cruel path.

“Wanted to see me so bad?” König tilts his head playfully.

Gods… You can only look at him with brows curling with helpless frustration, lip trembling from how he seems to know your every little secret. He nods when you don’t say yes or no. He’s perfectly happy to read all the answers from your eyes.

“Ich wusste, dass es so war,” he changes into his own language, and you don’t need to understand the words he says.

You know he knows. He knows you, he knows you to your core, and it doesn’t really matter in which circumstances you two met. He knows far more than you, something about souls and how they’re supposed to meet, how little squirrels and giants belong together, as crazy as it is. That there is no chance in life: no, it was meant that you two meet. To him, it was no coincidence that you practically dropped into his lap from that tree.

“Did you like what you see?”

He holds your shoulders gently as you quiver and shake inside.

“No,” you peep.

“I like what I see,” he declares; a benevolent god.

…

A/N:. Thank you so much for your love and interest in this fic! As you may have noticed the fic now has 4 parts, which is because the 3rd chapter got too chunky and I had to split it 😇 Next part might take a while because I'm moving soon, but let me tell you... These guys will be put into *situations*. Oh, and a reminder that I don't have a taglist for this so please check any future updates from my pinned masterlist post 🩷

Translations:

Gut geschlafen? - Sleep well?

Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige. - Yes, I know. I killed your people. I deserve a slap.

Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg. - It is lovely to talk to you. But now I have to go.

Du. Bleibst. - You. Stay.

Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden? - Do you like being petted?

Ich glaube das tust du. - I think you do.

Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…? - Have you ever been touched…?

Verstanden. - Understood.

Was sagt sie? - What does she say?

Ich wusste dass es so war - I knew it was so.

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig cod #cod x reader #könig fluff #könig smut #historical au #Roman soldier!König

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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kookygranger · 9 months ago

Text

Top five, most memorable kisses of all time

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Corroded Coffin move to Chicago and find their people. Eddie finds you behind the counter at Championship Records. He thinks you're cool. You think he's gorgeous. Life outside of Hawkins might just be worth fighting for.

Warnings: swearing, kissing (obvs), fluff, fem!reader, mostly Eddie's POV, our boy has no rizz, alcohol consumption, I don't think anything else, too many high fidelity references?

Word count: 4k

Author's note: This is a one-shot, that has been sitting in my drafts since last Halloween and thanks to a wip game has finally seen the light of day! Find the playlist that inspired the fic below.

Masterlist

One pill makes you larger,

And one pill makes you small

The bell above the door jingles as Eddie steps through the threshold, his shoulders relaxing as the warmth seeps back into him and he scans the racks of records before him. Perking up as he notices the music playing over the speakers, he was still getting used to how much cooler things were in Chicago than back home – and shit, how much cooler people were.

Eddie clocks you sitting on top of the counter with one leg crossed under you, the other swinging down the side as you sticker a stack of vinyl. You mouth along with the music, not even noticing him slip through the aisles as he stops in a random section with a perfect view of you across the small store.

He’d only come in here to kill some time between soundcheck and the gig tonight at a venue down the street. The rest of the band had gone to find some food, but Eddie wanted to check out the record store they passed on the drive in. And boy, was he glad he did.

He mindlessly flicks through the records in front of him, trying to come up with a good conversation starter. It wasn’t that often that he missed Steve Harrington, but he could sure use one of the boy’s famous pep talks right about now. Fuck, what was it about pretty girls that got him so tongue-tied? Probably the pretty part.

But you weren’t just pretty, you were obviously very cool, and he certainly wasn’t used to girls sharing the same interests as him – but he’d met a lot of them since he’d moved to Chicago a couple of months ago.

Just as he’s thinking about what albums he could pick out to impress you, the bell above the door jingles again. A guy around his age walks in, his short hair spiked, nose and ears pierced and tattoos peeking out from a crisp white t-shirt. He walks with confidence to where you sit and makes you jump slightly as he greets you boisterously.

“Shit, you scared me.”

He snickers and starts rummaging through a crate of cassettes by the counter.

“Yeah, you look like you were in the zone. Did you even notice you had a customer?”

You turn your head in Eddie’s direction just as he ducks his down, continuing to flick through the disco section. Wait, shit where’s the metal?

“Shit.” You whisper under your breath and turn your attention back to the other guy, not quite lowering your voice enough so Eddie couldn’t eavesdrop. “No, but in my defence this song is a banger.”

Severin, Severin, speak so slightly

Severin, down on your bended knee

“What the fuck are you listening to anyway?”

“I made a pre-Halloween mix. Music that led to goth before goth was a thing.” You frown as you try to unstick a bright red sticker from the price gun you’d been tapping on the pile of vinyl.

Eddie smiles to himself as he continues to pretend he’s browsing and not tuning into your conversation.

“Are you coming to The Allied tonight? There’s some new band from Indiana or something playing. Apparently, they do a sick cover of Master of Puppets.”

Eddie pauses in his faux perusing for a second as he awaits your reply.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, no.”

The guy huffs, “No? What was your plan, going home to sulk to The Velvet Underground?”

“I don’t sulk–“

“You do when you listen to The Velvet Underground.”

“What do you want me to do? Pogo to Heroin? Anyway, I was gonna work on an article actually.”

“Why don’t you write about this band tonight? Tim says they’re pretty good. He saw them a couple of weeks ago at the Metro.”

“Tim said that about that god-awful noise band that played at De Salle’s. It was the worst four hours of my life. I thought my ears were actually going to bleed.”

“Whatever, you say that like you’re not currently playing the most depressing German synth music that nobody in their right mind would listen to.” He points his hand in the air, drawing your attention to the new song playing from the speakers behind you.

“First of all, this is David Bowie’s Low. And if you knew as much about music as you claim to, you’d know that this was his seminal work in his Berlin era and an ambient soundscape masterpiece. Secondly–“

“I like it.”

Both of your heads shoot up at Eddie’s interruption. He blushes and clears his throat as you catch his eye and the corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry, I just–it’s a good mixtape. I like the theme.” He frowns and shakes his head at himself, he doesn’t know what came over him. Who is this guy that’s bothering you, anyway? You have amazing taste and he’s now sure you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. You gesture in his direction and look back at the guy that’s teasing you.

“The customer is always right, Simon.”

Eddie moves quickly to the B section and finds the album you were talking about before heading over to you.

“Did you find everything you need?” You smile at him sweetly as you hop off the counter and take the record from him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before. Customer service isn’t exactly my strongest skill.”

The guy, Simon, snorts. Eddie can’t take his eyes off the way your face lights up quietly when you realise what album he picked.

“What are your strongest skills?” That was such a weird question Munson, what the hell?

You look up at him a little taken aback, before a small smile creeps up on you.

“Talking about music…or” you shake your head in contemplation, “writing about it actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe it’s not so much a skill, more like an obsession.”

“She’s actually kind of good.” Simon butts in with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“Such a high compliment cuz.”

You were cousins. He still had a shot.

“You write for magazines?”

“Zines mostly,” you point to a stack of xeroxed pamphlets on the counter, “but I’ve published a few reviews with Spin and The Face.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That’s pretty cool.”

You breathe out a laugh and take the cash he hands you, collecting his change. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you're Eddie, right?” He turns to Simon, almost forgetting he was there. “Your band’s playing at The Allied tonight? I met your drummer Gareth at a show last week.”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. We’re called Corroded Coffin.”

“Cool name.” You smirk and hand him his record wrapped in paper. Eddie tucks it under his arm, his dimples showing as he smiles back at you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re from Indiana then?” You call back to Simon’s earlier statement, as Eddie doesn’t make a move to immediately leave.

He rubs the back of his neck as he nods, “Yeah. Just moved here a couple of months ago with my band.”

“Welcome to Chicago, Eddie.” You smile and introduce yourself, “Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you…vinyl wise I mean.”

“Thanks,” he scratches the stubble on his jaw before stepping away from the counter. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight at the show?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but there’s a hint of hope in there.

You bite your lip and shrug, “Yeah, maybe you will.”

Eddie nods and takes his queue to leave, the bell jingling again as he steps back out into the cold.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” Simon mocks you in a breathy imitation and you roll your eyes. “So now that you know the singer is cute are you coming?”

“Obviously! You better get me on the door list, or I swear to god I’m telling Aunt Carol about the stash in your underwear drawer.”

***

“Hey, Carlos.” You greet your friend at the door of The Allied, who waves you in without payment. “That Darondo record came in, I put it aside for you.” You call back on your way in, hearing a muffled thanks as the music from inside hits your eardrums.

There’s a decent crowd tonight, and you have to push past a few people to reach the sticky top bar.

“Oh, she showed up! Surprise, surprise.” Simon makes his way over to you, ignoring the calls of indignance as he passes other customers. He slings a rag over his shoulder, which makes you bite your lip, attempting to hold in a laugh, remembering how he’d practised that move in the mirror when he turned twenty-one and landed the second most coveted job of your teenage selves.

You shrug nonchalantly, despite your cousin knowing the exact reason you’re here. “I ended up doing inventory ‘till late. Thought I may as well drop by before catching the L.”

Simon flicks your nose, your retaliating slap missing him as he moves to pour your drink. You thank him with a forced smile when he slides it across the bar, picking it up and turning to find a spot in the crowd.

“No tip?”

You call over your shoulder, “Yeah, take it easy on the cologne.” You smirk, not even having to turn around to know he’s probably sniffing his shirt.

You take your usual spot leaning against the wall, up the back and away from most of the crowd. Your rule was front row or back. None of that squished in the middle, view blocked by the tallest guy you’d ever seen crap. Either it was front and centre, immersed in the moment, or your own space with a view of it all.

You’d never be up front for a band you didn’t know, and tonight was no exception, no matter how large the butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of seeing him again.

You don’t know what it was about Eddie, apart from the obvious fact that he was gorgeous. Maybe it was something in his presence. But when he walked up to the counter earlier with a record you’d just been talking about and a shy smile on his face – you were a goner.

The murmurs of the crowd quieten when the house lights are switched off, a yellow glow on the stage and above the bar now the only sources of light.

There are a few enthusiastic cheers when the band appear from a door behind the stage and a smattering of applause as they take their place. You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the feeling in your chest when Eddie steps up to the mic and adjusts his red Warlock guitar. He smiles and you duck your head, trying not to look too much like the girl who’s just fallen for a lead singer when he addresses the crowd.

“Evening. Hope you brought your earplugs, this one’s new.” The quiet, reservedness of his introduction and the boy you’d met earlier is undone with the first crashing of cymbals and thrash of power chords.

Stage Eddie isn’t what you were expecting, but still somehow makes total sense. He’s more comfortable, more himself up there as he thrashes back and forth, hair whipping wildly. And they’re good. Really good.

Maybe you’d write about them after all.

The band are almost through their set when he spots you. Your back straightens as his eyes lock onto yours. Normally you hate making eye contact with someone on stage, but you can’t seem to look away when his chocolate-brown gaze twinkles over the heads of the rest of the crowd. In between songs, he gives you a wave, and you nod, returning his small smile.

When they finish, you move back to the bar. Waiting for the lingering fans to clear over a rum and coke. You’re only on your second sip when you feel a burning hot presence behind you.

“You made it.”

You turn around, and Eddie leans an arm on the bar beside you, moving in closer as the growing line pushes him forward.

“I did.” You nod, taking another sip of your drink.

He clears his throat, pushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“So, uh, what did you think?”

You smile, “I think you’re going to fit in very well here.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it is. You’re one of us now. Welcome to the dark side, Eddie.”

His eyebrows raise, the ghost of a smirk kicking up when you’re interrupted by your cousin.

“Man, that was sick! What can I get ya?”

Eddie thanks Simon, then looks back at you, “What are you having?” He holds up two fingers when you answer, signalling for another round, then starts playing with a beermat while you wait. Your eyes are trained to the glint of silver on his fingers.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?”

Eddie looks back at you and puffs his cheeks up as he exhales. “Honestly?... I didn’t know life could be this good.”

You feel a sharp tingling in your nose as your eyes well up a little for the boy standing in front of you, his cheeks dusted with pink as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Trust me, things are only gonna get better from here.”

“Yeah?” He beams at you then and you inhale deeply as you fight the urge to reach out and wrap your arms around him.

“Yeah.”

***

Eddie had seen you a few times since the gig at The Allied. Dropping into the record store when he could. In small crowds at gigs in the city. You’d greet him with a hug or a squeeze to the arm that never failed to get his heart rate going.

Today, he’d gotten off early from his temporary new gig at the auto shop and he found himself parked outside the record store.

It was overcast, but there was no bite to the air. A balmy wind tousling his hair as he ran across the street to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, avoiding the fat drops of rain that had begun to fall sporadically.

He spots you through the window when he makes his back to the store, bobbing your head along to whatever’s playing as you fill the racks. The now familiar bell jingles and he smiles when he recognises Joy Division over the speakers. He’d seen you in their shirt on more than one occasion.

He meets you as you're walking back to the counter.

“Oh, hey Eddie.” You smile and do a double take, taking in his greasy coveralls, and suddenly he’s wishing he’d gone home and showered. Even if it was an hour out of his way.

“Hey.” He places a coffee on the counter along with a white paper bag. “Thought you might like a mid-afternoon pick me up. I’ve uh, I’ve seen you with one of those cinnamon things before.”

Your eyes light up as you inspect the inside of the bag. “Oh my god, you’re my hero! Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

He shrugs, taking a step back from the counter, his own black coffee still clutched in his hands.

“So, this is the day job then huh?” You gesture to his outfit.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah for now. Until the music starts paying off. If the music starts paying off.”

You nod, taking a bite of your cinnamon scroll and he can’t help but smirk at the way your eyes quickly roll to the back of your head. “It will.”

His free hand goes to his pocket, face hidden slightly by his hair as he tucks into himself at your confident statement.

“Thanks.” He turns around to start perusing the aisles.

“Oh, we will be getting the new Metallica album on the day of release by the way. I’ll put a tape aside for you.”

“Thank you.” He offers you a smile over his shoulder, and you tip your coffee to him.

He takes his time flicking through the rows, a few customers coming and going as he does, although he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Once the store is quiet again, he walks back over to you, selection in hand.

“Lee Hazelwood?” You take the record from him with a look of surprise.

He nods, “Yeah, I liked that song on that pre-goth mixtape you gave me. It’s like the kind of thing my uncle would listen to but…”

“Sinister.”

“Yeah.”

You smile, “It’s cool isn’t it? You know he actually wrote These Boots Are Made For Walkin’. Helped save Nancy Sinatra’s career after the teeny-bopper thing didn’t work out. They made a couple of albums together actually, and you know the first time he retired from the music industry was because the success of The Beatles’ made him depressed.”

He leans his arms on the counter as you talk. “Wow, you really are a wealth of knowledge for this stuff huh?”

You shrug, “What else is there?”

“Apart from books.”

You nod, “Good movies.”

He smiles, “Pizza.”

“Dumplings.”

“DnD”

You frown, “That nerdy board game?”

“No, uh d–dumplings like you said, and uh– dough–doughnuts?”

You scrunch up your face, “Okay,” and giggle at Eddie’s strained smile.

“So uh, what–would you–“ Not screwing this up at all Munson. “Would you maybe wanna do that together sometime? The pizza and dumplings, or probably one or the other I guess, and a movie, good music–“ he blows out a puff of air, scrunching up his face.

“Are you asking if I wanna go see a movie?”

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically, “that and dinner. If you want.”

“I do like both those things.” You smile. “How about Thursday? I finish closing up at six.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thursday sounds good.” The guys and their weekly standing appointment for band practice would not agree.

***

Thursday rolls around faster than Eddie’s prepared for. Predictably, his bandmates all made fun of him for cancelling practice for you. But he just ignored the high-pitched ooohs and went to make sure his lucky Sabbath shirt was washed before he needed it.

He’s wearing it now as he paces outside the movie theatre, twisting his rings, oblivious to you sneaking up behind him until it’s too late.

“Boo!”

“Jesus Christ.” He jumps and twists around, your hands that had reached out to scare him still on his hips, his arms float in the air for a second before landing on your shoulders.

“You’re on edge,” you tease before your face sets a little more seriously. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, just uh, you wanna head in? It starts in like five minutes.”

You nod, your hands leaving his waist as his fall back to his sides. “What are we seeing anyway?” You look up at the black lettering above you, smiling just as Eddie reveals your viewing choice for the night.

“Thought we could see Young Frankenstein. Saw they were doing an old-school horror weekend here in the paper.”

“That sounds great.”

He lets out a breath of relief when you bump his shoulder affectionately, and you begin walking into the theatre side by side.

“Now the real important question Eddie Munson. What are your go-to movie snacks?”

His hand twitches when it accidentally brushes the back of yours.

“Well, popcorn obviously.”

“Obviously.” You nod.

“Sour Patch Kids and you gotta add a packet of Reese’s Pieces in there too.”

“Wait, in there as in–?”

“In the popcorn bucket. All of it. Like a good version of a trail mix.”

You grin, “Very interesting.”

“Just wait till you try it, sweetheart, you’ll never do it any other way.”

You laugh, “Okay, lead the way.”

He bows, gesturing his hand towards the confection stand. “After you m’lady.”

Your giggle, Eddie quickly finds out is his new favourite sound. When it appears again in the movie theatre, he can’t seem to keep his eyes on Gene Wilder, only watching you light up with laughter.

He can’t quite believe how well it’s all going. That is until you’re sharing a large pepperoni, on the bench outside the place you insisted served the best “pies” in all of Chicago, and your confusion stops his heart for a second.

He groans when he takes the first bite of cheesy dough.

“Good right?”

He nods, chewing and swallowing quickly. “My uncle told me pizza wasn’t a first date kind of meal, but we don’t have anything like this back in Hawkins.”

You’re sitting so close that he notices you still right away.

“Wait, this is a date?”

“Oh,” he swears his heart drops to his stomach as he sees the surprise on your face. “Oh well, yeah I thought it was but I guess I–it doesn’t have to be, sorry.”

You reach out to grab his arm when he instinctively moves away, “No! I just didn’t realise you were asking me out, out. You kinda just kept listing food.” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “I want it to be a date.”

He bites his lip, looking back at you with eyebrows raised, “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, squeezing the arm still in your hold. “Of course. I would love to…be on a date with you right now.”

He beams, “Well, it’s your lucky night sweetheart.”

***

The date (once it’s established as one), goes so well Eddie finds himself back at your apartment, admiring your wall lined with records while you find the both of you a drink.

His eyebrows marry together when he notices Dusty Springfield next to the Sex Pistols.

“What’s the system here?” You hand him a beer when you reappear by his side. “Not by genre?”

“No. Autobiographical.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How–?”

“Well,” you step forward, reaching out to pick a plastic sleeve as if from memory, “if I want to find the song Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, I have to remember that I bought it for someone in the fall of 1983 but didn’t give it to them…for personal reasons.” You show him the white cover of the album.

“That sounds…”

“Comforting.”

He nods slowly, “Yes.”

“It is.”

God, you’re weird. And cute. And cool. And, shit he was going for it, you said you wanted to be on a date with him. You invited him back to your place. No one’s ever done that before. He should go for it. He’s going for it–

Your lips feel even softer than he imagined, and he can’t help but give himself a mental high-five when you immediately move closer to him, face melting into the hand that cradles your cheek. You taste almost vanilla-y with the combo of rum and coke still sitting on your tongue when his meets yours. He places his beer down on the coffee table, and your lips follow him when he has to dip down slightly before his free hand comes to sit on your waist.

You part for a breath, “Didn’t realise vinyl categorisation would get you so hot.” You tease him, lips plump and eyes slightly glazed over, and he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to keep you looking at him like this.

“Yeah uh, really love that Dewey Decimal system.” He leans close to capture your lips again, but you pull back, leaving him to chase you.

“The Dewey Decimal system is for books.” You shake your head.

Eddie huffs, “I really don’t care.” He finally finds your lips again and he swears they taste even sweeter the second time, despite being tainted by his own.

You guide him back to slowly sit on the couch, bodies falling a little clumsily together before you situate yourself in his lap, legs straddling his. You both stay like that for what could be hours for all Eddie cares, lips clicking in the silence.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night.” He leans his forehead against yours, heavy breathing synced with your own, as you finally come up for air.

You shake your head, eyes soft and reassuring.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie.”

God dammit, is he glad he left Hawkins.

Tagging: @storiesbyrhi (I hope you like the coffee shop across from the record store 😉), @bettyfrommars (I finished it!)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #she writes #Spotify

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

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Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl.

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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katsu28 · 1 month ago

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the way you love

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: loving george russell is as easy as breathing sometimes, especially with the way he loves you. loosely inspired by stardust by zayn. (2.8k)

a/n: welcome to the first of four holiday fics! i'm hoping to post one a day until christmas eve, so stay tuned :)

Maybe you should’ve waited inside for George to pick you up.

Granted, you haven't been out here long, and you know he’ll be here soon, but it’s cold. Frigid wind whips your hair around your face, scraping over your skin harshly.

You nuzzle a little deeper into your scarf in a poor attempt to protect your cheeks.

The two cardboard cups clutched in your hands do help a little with the biting cold. One for you, one for George, both filled to the brim with steaming coffee from the little shop down the street from your building.

They’ve rolled out their holiday cups today, as noted by the festive little scene printed across the sleeve. It makes you smile, and you think George will probably like it too.

George’s sleek car pulls up in front of you with a gentle rumble not long later. You’re expecting him to be smiling when he gets out, but when his head pops over the roof of the car, he just looks concerned.

“Blimey, have you been waiting out here the entire time?” He exclaims incredulously, rounding the front of the car quickly.

You barely have time to nod before he’s easing the cups out of your grip. Only once they’re secured into cup holders inside the car does he grab your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to breathe a little warmth back into them.

“Didn’t want you to have to wait on me,” You say, as if it’s any excuse to have been standing in the freezing cold. Really, you just wanted to see George as soon as he came to pick you up. You’ve just seen him only last week, but it feels like forever.

“Darling, it’s freezing,” He reasons. He’s smiling now, despite the attempt to keep his firm composure.

You frown. “I missed you.”

He kisses you instead of answering, short and sweet, but still bursting with affection.

“Hi,” You say softly, nuzzling deeper into his broad palm after he pulls back an inch or two. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, bringing some more much needed heat back into your skin. You won’t tell him, but your nose had been starting to lose a bit of feeling.

“Hi. I missed you too,” He replies, fondness dripping from his tone.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Longest five days of my life.”

That makes you grin even harder, pushing forward for another quick kiss. “Mine too.”

“Glad we feel the same.” He looks very pleased. “Shall we get a move on? We’re a little early, but I know how much you hate being late to things. I even told Alex to expect us early.”

You’re set to head to Alex Albon’s Christmas party in a little bit. George goes every year, but this is the first time you’re going too. You’re excited, nervous, and a little bit scared at the prospect of finally getting to meet all of George’s friends at one time. You've met a handful of them individually, gradually, George happily introducing you as his girlfriend every time, but never in such a large social setting like this party.

You aren’t quite sure what to expect, but if the ones you haven’t met are anything like the ones you have, you’ll be just fine.

“And what did he say about that?”

“That Lily is relieved someone competent is coming round to help out, so I’d say he’s pretty okay with it,” George says, chuckling. “C’mon, let's get you out of the cold.”

You allow George to help you into the car, letting out a comfortable sigh at the blazing warmth of the car interior. George has always liked to keep your shared spaces running hot despite your wishing for the opposite, but for the first time ever, you’re actually grateful for your boyfriend’s temperature preference.

“Nice, isn’t it?” He teases as he climbs into the driver’s seat, nudging at your shoulder. “See, I told you you’d come around someday.”

“Only because it’s cold as shit outside,” You huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I got you coffee.”

“Thank you, darling. Though I wish you hadn’t sacrificed your health to do so.”

“I know you had another late night yesterday, thought you might be tired. It’s fine, really, I didn’t mind,” You insist, shaking your head.

“You’re very sweet,” George says softly, leaning over the center to press a kiss to your cheek.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you turn at the last moment so he catches your lips instead. He lets out a noise of surprise, but has no hesitation in kissing you back happily, slipping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You kiss and kiss and kiss until your lips start to tingle, and even then, you’re reluctant to pull away. There’s something intoxicating about kissing George that makes you want to do it forever.

“If we stay here any longer, we might actually end up being late,” George murmurs. He blinks at you, long lashes fluttering open and shut slowly. His breath fans across your skin on every exhale, cologne invading your senses until all that surrounds you is him.

“That would be bad.”

“Mm, awful,” He agrees. Still, he doesn’t make any attempt to pull away, perfectly content here, hiding away with you in the coziness of your close proximity. His nose drags along your cheek, lips following the path until he reaches the corner of your mouth.

You exhale shakily. “Alex and Lily are expecting us.”

“They are.”

“So we should go.”

“I mean, we don’t have to…” George trails off, letting his head tilt to the side.

“Yes, we do. Someone roped us into helping with party prep.”

He sighs rather heavily, handsome features screwing into overdramatic annoyance. “Starting to regret that right about now.” That makes you giggle. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”

“There’s that holiday spirit!”

The drive over to Alex’s is fairly short. It actually takes more time to make yourselves presentable and not at all like you’ve just been making out in the car, before making your way up to Alex and Lily’s. George has brought presents for both of your friends—a watch for Alex and a bottle of perfume for Lily, he’d informed you in the elevator, bought by him, but a gift from the both of you.

The door swings open with a blast of music and the smell of something delicious not seconds after you knock. Alex stands just behind it with a gracious smile on his face and a flute of something bubbly in hand.

“Hi, welcome—oh, thank god you’re here,” He breathes. Then he stops, stares at the two of you for a few moments, as if he’s studying the both of you. A knowing smirk quirks his lips right after. “George, you’ve got lipstick on your chin, mate.”

George’s hand flies up to his face, rubbing furiously. His cheeks have flushed an embarrassed pink at his friend’s smug observation.

“I’m just kidding. But it was funny to see you panic,” Alex snickers.

“Ha ha, hilarious. Maybe I won’t give you this gift after all.”

Alex takes both boxes eagerly, tucking them under his arm with a wink. “Come on in, friends.”

The flat is decorated tastefully—festive, but not gaudy. You assume Lily had done most of the decor rather than Alex.

Speaking of—

“You’re here!!! Thank god!” Lily exclaims, barely paying George any mind before she whisks you away, chattering away immediately, wanting your opinions on everything from the appetizers to the seating arrangements at dinner. You cast a helpless glance over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who merely gives you an amused wave back.

You do what Lily tells you needs finishing up until the rest of the guests start to make their arrival. Most of the other drivers are in attendance, save for a few who’d opted to spend the holidays home with their families. Charles and Carlos are here, Lando and Oscar, Yuki, Pierre, Zhou and Franco, to name a few.

The bundle of nerves in your chest starts to unravel as more familiar faces trickle in, and you’re able to catch up with a couple of them. You’re chatting with Kika and Pierre about what’s new with Simba when a hand touches the small of your back.

Instantly, you know it's George. His touch is the only one that sends butterflies through you. That’s never happened with anyone else before, but with George, you feel alight with a certain energy every time.

You lean back into him on instinct, tilting your head up to look at him. His cheeks are slightly rosy, hair still perfectly coiffed, save for one curl that has escaped to hang over his forehead. You reach up to brush it back and he smiles, sliding a hand around your waist.

“So sorry to interrupt, you lot. Just wanted to pop in and see if anybody needed a refresher on their drinks,” He offers, though his gaze rests solely on you.

“Thank you, but we’re good, mate,” Pierre replies, as Kika shakes her head to decline too.

George says your name, lips lifting into a small smile as he juts his chin at your nearly empty glass.

“Thank you, Georgie,” You say gratefully. “Don’t forget to—”

“Make it sweeter? Yes, I know how you take your drinks, darling,” He hums, kissing your cheek quickly before retreating with your glass.

“You’ve trained him well,” Pierre teases, winking at you.

“I think he was born that way,” You admit.

That isn’t a lie. According to George’s sister, who you’d had the pleasure of meeting a few months back, he'd always been very kind, very caring, even when he was young. It’s one of the many qualities of his that has you falling in love with him a little more with every passing day.

George leaves you to your own conversations after bringing you your drink, but you see him periodically throughout the night. He always looks like the life of the conversation, talking animatedly, listening with rapt attention when he’s not yapping away.

Even as he’s listening intently, it’s like he can sense you’re looking at him, because he finds you almost instantly, sending a smile or a wink your way. That’s another lovable quality of his—knowing where you are even when he’s not with you. Like you’re two magnets being pulled towards each other at all times.

The more you chat with everyone else, one thing becomes obvious. George talks about you a lot. Not enough to be obnoxious, but he's mentioned you to many of his friends.

Charles knows you’ve been looking into learning how to play the piano because George had asked him something about which pianos were the best. Yuki offers up a few cooking tips because George had mentioned you wanted to try your hand at a new dish. Lewis congratulates you on a big project you’d finished at work a while back, telling you that George had been singing your praises in the garage right after you'd called.

If you look back at it, George has always been one of your biggest supporters.

Always wanting you to call him whenever something big happens because he can’t be there all the time, always doing things for you when he’s away so you never for a moment feel like he's not thinking of you. Sending you flowers, ordering you food from your favorite spot in Monaco even though he's a thousand miles away because he knows it’ll make you smile. Even just texting you a picture of something he saw that made him think of you.

George makes you feel so, so loved, all the time. Like, wherever you are in the world, no matter, everything will be okay because you’ve got him. You could be on some far off deserted island in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the land to live off of, but if George is there with you, it wouldn’t be all that bad.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would’ve been like if you’d never met him, but you never get far with those thoughts. You can’t even imagine what life would look like without George Russell. And honestly, you don’t really want to.

“Ready to head out?” George’s voice draws you out of your thoughts, and when you refocus, he’s right in front of you, holding out your coat. For a moment, you can only stand there, blinking back at him like you’ve just laid eyes on him for the first time ever.

He falters a little under your intense staring. “Darling? Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just…tired, I think.”

“Let’s go home then. Stay the night at mine?”

“Duh,” You say. Your obvious tone makes George chuckle a little bit as he helps you slip into your coat.

“How silly of me to even ask.”

After finding your hosts to thank them for the great evening and subsequently being invited for a game of doubles padel with them one of these days, you're off.

“I don’t have any skin cleanser,” You say suddenly, just as George has pulled onto the main road.

“What?”

“At your place. I don’t have my cleanser, the one I always use before bed.”

“The one in the little green bottle?”

“Yeah.” You frown, slumping back in your seat. In hindsight, it’s really not the biggest deal in the world, and you’re not sure why you’re making it one. But for some reason right now, you’re focused on it.

“Lucky for you, your wonderful boyfriend bought a bottle just in case this happened. He figured you’d probably forget it one of these days.”

“Is there a reason my wonderful boyfriend is referring to himself in the third person?” You giggle, shifting in your seat to face said thoughtful boyfriend. George’s cheeks are flushed a little pink.

“Yeah, I thought it was a little weird too. Anyways, there’s a bottle in the bathroom cupboard.”

“Thank you, Georgie. You’re always so thoughtful.”

“Y’know, you could just move in with me. That way you won’t have to worry about not having things at mine anymore.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he speaks, but you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously. “You’ve already got loads of stuff there anyways, why not just bring it all? You wouldn’t have to drive across the city every time you come over, for one.”

“I barely drive to yours anyways, you know. You always insist on picking me up,” You tease. George smiles, but you can tell he’s serious about wanting you to move in with him. You sigh, squeezing his hand. “Babe, I’d love nothing more, but…I could never afford to live with you.”

“I’m not going to have you pay rent or anything like that, darling. I wouldn't ask that of you.” George’s nose wrinkles, like it’s absurd of you to even think about it. “Just your company would be more than enough, honestly. Make the place less empty, more like…home.”

You can already imagine it. Falling asleep next to each other every night, waking up tangled together every morning, getting to come home and unwind with each other after long days. Breakfasts and afternoon teas and dinners you’d make together in George’s massive kitchen. Your stuff mingling with his in every room of the place.

Maybe you’d adopt a pet together one day, one that could keep you company every time George was away for races.

“Okay,” You say softly. You’ve already convinced yourself. “Let’s live together.”

George pulls to a stop at the red light, taking the opportunity to lean over into your space and kiss you gently. “Let’s do it, darling.”

Taking the next step in your relationship seems daunting, but George will be there to soothe any anxieties you have. He always is.

“Oh no! We forgot about the coffee.” He frowns, plucking the still full cup out of the holder suddenly. Then he shrugs, taking a giant sip of it. “Cute cup.”

“George, it’s cold!” You exclaim, tugging at his sleeve. “Just throw it out when we get home.”

“It tastes fine!”

“It’s probably stale.”

“I think it’s delicious.”

“You’re so weird.”

He chooses to ignore the muttered quip, letting a giant grin stretch his lips instead, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You called it home.”

“Well, it is now, isn’t it? Or will be soon enough.”

“Sure will. I’m thinking we move you in tomorrow.”

You chuckle, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “I have to get out of my lease first. It might take a while too, my landlord is kind of an asshole.”

“I’ll give him double whatever you’re paying right now to let you out of it early. No, triple.”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate bribery, but he is a Mercedes fan.”

“Paddock passes and VIP club access to Monaco next season, done.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

#george russell #george russell x reader #gr63 #gr63 x reader #george russell x fem!reader #george russell x you #gr63 x fem!reader #george russell fic #george russell fluff

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activesplooger · 3 months ago

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ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ | ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ | ꜱᴍᴜᴛ 18+

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) ITS DONNEEEE!! omg guys i literallyyyy akjbfkwjefhkbwefk longest fic ever and honestly my favv i had so much fun making this!!! Also, "Papermint" is like the fanon name for Vox's assistant in ep 2

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You got a job working as an assistant for Vox at VoxTech! Though, his behavior is quite strange around you... He's very touchy-feely, a strange thing for the infamous TV demon to do. Oh, well! It's probably nothing (it's not nothing).

ᴄᴡ: obsessive behavior, stalking, yandere, infatuation, voyeurism, smut, body pillows, masturbation, kidnapping, hypnotism

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7,614

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

"M-Miss L/N?" A nervous sinner in a VoxTech uniform steps out of the office you patiently waited outside of for about an hour now. You smile politely at the employee and nod. "Yes?" you respond. "M-Mr. Vox would like to see you now.". "Great, thanks!" You grab your resume off your lap and slowly walk to the office door. Your hand hovers over the knob as you mentally prepare yourself for the interview on the other side of the door. ‘You’ve got this… Deep breaths… Inhale… Exhale…’.

Candidate after candidate had gone in and out of the office, each coming out with an upset expression, one of them even started crying! The TV Demon had a reputation for being pretty ruthless, but you didn't know it could be that bad. Even the employee that called you in seemed like he was about to crap his pants from all the pressure. You really needed this job. Rent is higher, and income is at an all-time low. You're hoping your less-than-accurate resume was believable.

You take a few deep breaths, 'C'mon, I've got this! I can handle it... I hope...'. After managing to calm down, you plaster on a wide grin and open the door.

“Hi, Mr. Vox! I’m here for the interview.”

— Earlier...

Velvette rolls his eyes as she walks into Vox's office, "Ugh, are you seriously still spying on that saggy old radio fuck?". Vox sat in his office chair, eyes fixed on the Radio Demon displayed from different angles on various monitors. A few swears were muttered under Vox's breath before prying his eyes away from the screen. Spinning his chair around, he slaps on a faux customer service smile, "Velvette! What can I do for you this sinful afternoon, my dear?". A scoff escapes her mouth, "How long are you gonna let this little Alastor obsession run your life? You're supposed to be interviewing new assistants, not stalking some poor hair-styled geriatric fuck! Get it together!". Vox was only half listening, focusing on the screen with Alastor more than the furious overlord before him. Click Click Velvette snaps her fingers in front of the distracted TV Demon. Vox waves a dismissive hand in response, "Yeah, yeah, I'll have Papermint take care of it...". "You really think Papermint can handle that, darling?" A look of realization spreads across Vox's face, "Fuck, you're right. I'll deal with it.". "Attaboy!" The Fashion Overlord praises with a satisfied grin before exiting the office. An annoyed scowl spreads across Vox's face once she leaves. He gets one last look at The Radio Demon displayed throughout the monitors, "Until next time...". __

After countless interviews, Vox was at the end of his rope. Each candidate wasn't qualified in some aspect according to Vox's standards. 'Too eager.' 'Too little experience.'. Some of them simply had an "unlikable face" according to him and sent them out before the interview could even start. "S-Sir?" Papermint hesitantly speaks, "Would you like me to send in the next applicant..?" Vox sighs, "Papermint, let me ask you this. Have I hired anyone yet?" "N-No..." "Then, ɎɆS ɎØᵾ ƗNȻØMⱣɆŦɆNŦ WȺSŦɆ ØF ȺƗɌ. ŦĦƗS ƗS WĦɎ Ɨ ĦȺVĘ ŦØ ǤɆŦ ŦWØ ȺSSƗSŦȺNŦS."

Papermint trembles as sparks of electricity emanating from his angry boss fly toward him, "S-Sorry, Sir! I'll bring them in right away!".

Vox rolls his eyes as Papermint goes to fetch his next victim applicant. You open the door and walk in with a warm smile, the mere sight of you causing Vox to choke on his own spit.

“Hi Mr. Vox! I’m here for the interview.”

—

You place your resume on his desk and sit down on the chair in front of it. The wires in Vox’s head nearly short circuit, unable to comprehend you. You clear your throat in an attempt to cut the initial tension and silence, “Ahem-“

The TV Demon snaps out of his trance and picks up your resume, “Ah, Miss Y/N! Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, Sir!”

“Please,” he flashes a charming grin, “Call me Vox, doll.”. You smile and nod, “Nice to meet you, Vox.”. The sound of his name on your lips sent shivers down Vox's spine.

He regains his composure and clears his throat, “So, I see you have some experience assisting other overlords. What made you want to be a co-assistant to me at Voxtech?". “I’m sorry, co-assistant?” you ask.

“Yes,” Vox gestures to Papermint standing idly in a corner, “This one over here will also be my assistant. You’ll handle the more personal needs of mine while Papermint handles more business-related needs.”. “I see."

Vox, completely entranced by you, puts your resume down and extends a hand out to you across the desk, “Well, that’s all I really need! Congratulations! You got the job!”. Winning sound effects could be heard from Vox’s speakers as he congratulated you. “Oh! I-Is that it..? No questions..?” you inquire. Was he joking? “Nope, I’ve seen enough," he states firmly.

"Actually," a sly smile creeps out from his teeth, "what size are you?”

“Uh, why?”

“For your uniform of course!”

— You could've sworn the uniform you received was 1-2 sizes smaller than you said you were. The uniform consists of a navy and turquoise pinstripe mini skirt, a low-cut white blouse fitted with a red tie, and black sheer stockings. “I look like one of those clown robot sex toy things…”. Looking in the mirror, you felt very exposed... It wasn't any more slutty than the stuff you'd usually wear, but that was exactly the problem. Why was your work uniform so revealing? You looked like one of Valentino's pornstars rather than a Voxtech employee. No doubt, you looked killer. But, it's still very strange.

"Eh... Whatever. I'm overthinking it." you reassure yourself. __

"Yes, YES! SHE'S PUTTING IT ON!". Vox presses his face against the screen as he watches you through his monitors. He had gotten an employee to stash hidden cameras in your apartment immediately after your interview. The cameras he used for you were the ones he used for spying on Alastor. It's time for someone new to obsess over, someone better. More attainable.

“Fuck, that’s hot…” Vox's pants start to stretch uncomfortably as he continues watching you. His eyes stay glued to the screen, gaze lingering on the exposed skin peeking out through the skimpy clothing.

His hand travels down to the large concealed bulge, palming himself slowly before looking at the time. “SHIT, She’s gonna be here in an hour!.”. The TV demon springs up from his seat and makes his way to the modeling floor of the Vee Tower.

"I don't have time for this!" Velvette exclaims, walking away from Vox. "Come on, Vel," he pleads, "just this once! You do it for Valentino all the time!". She stops in her tracks, turning on her heels sharply to face him, "That's because Valentino has a make-up-applicable face! Not a screen!". Vox chases after her as she walks away. "Velvette," he says with a nervous chuckle, "who said anything about makeup, my dear? Just a little touch-up would be nice!". "If I say yes will you leave me alone?" she asks. "Absolutely!"

Velvette gets some of her workers and assigns them to give Vox a makeover. The employees adorn him in the finest colognes and do his skincare (which is honestly just screen wipes). They tailor his suit to make sure it fits extra perfect and hugs all the right spots. His claws get a nice manicure, having them sharpened and polished to perfection. He's getting all dolled up just for you!

Vox waits patiently in his office for you to arrive, a wide grin on his face as he stares at the door.

Unfortunately, you were running a bit late. Traffic in the entertainment district was brutal at 7:00am, everyone's trying to get to work at this hour you suppose. You wish you had known this prior to your first day, but you usually never wake up before 9:00 so you've never seen the morning traffic. Running late on your first day? Very professional.

To make things worse, when you did finally pull in for work, some jackass parked in your designated spot. Prick. You managed to find a spot down the street and quickly back into the space. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you then hop out of your car and sprint down the street as fast as possible.

You never were much of a runner, but determination set you off into a pace you've never reached before. Pushing open the doors, you find the elevators. A crowd of people huddles around it as they all await the next lift. Fuck that. You dart to the stairs and climb them with all your might. 40 flights. Maybe you should've waited for the elevator.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, you sluggishly pull yourself up the next step. You take a moment to collect yourself and take some deep breaths before running into his office. Bursting open the doors, you sprint down the walkway yelling, "I'M HERE!".

"I *wheeze* am soooooo sorry for being late sir," you apologize, hoping you weren't automatically fired for this, "traffic was horrible and someone took my spot and I'm so sorry, sir!".

Vox had patiently waited an hour in his office for you, anxiously waiting your arrival. Paranoid thoughts of you not showing up ate away at him as he stared at the door in front of him, waiting for you to walk in in all of your glory. His smile never faded, of course, his customary showman grin plastered on his face. Occasionally, he'd glance into the reflection of a monitor, checking his appearance. Did he look good enough? He sure hoped he did.

And then, finally, you come bustling through the door. Your hair is messy, loose strands falling from your neat ponytail. The uniform was a bit disheveled, but still. Holy shit.

The TV demon chuckles softly, putting up a hand to stop your rambling, "No worries, my dear, I understand.". How could he ever be mad at you? To him, you're absolute perfection. "Really?" a smile spreads across your face. "Thank you so much, sir," you beam, "it won't happen again I promise!".

"It better not!" he teases, a bark of laughter escaping him. "You know," he adds, "to avoid this little issue again, why don't I give you a ride sometime?". "No no," you protest, waving your hands as a declining gesture, "I couldn't ask you to go out of your way to do that. I'm supposed to assist you.". "Nonsense, my dear," he insists, "it wouldn't be out of the way at all!".

He's certainly very accommodating to you, but why? Wasn't he supposed to be the infamous horrifying TV overlord you've heard all about? Maybe it's just exaggerated gossip, after all, he seemed like a nice guy! Maybe too nice. "But, don't you live here..? Wouldn't it be a little inconvenient to drive all the way to my place and back?".

You got him there, he really had no reason to go out of his way for that without raising suspicion. His smile falters slightly, his voice a bit quieter now, "Yes, of course. That makes more sense...". It goes quiet for a moment, Vox projecting sweat on his screen as he's nervous that he already screwed everything up.

He clears his throat and throws on a fake grin, "Anyways! How about we get you started on your first task, hm?". You nod, grabbing out your notepad and pen, and getting ready to write down whatever he says.

"Let's see," he taps a sharp turquoise claw to his screen, "how about you start with running a few errands for me? I'll write down a list of groceries for you to fetch. Vox jots down a few items on a post-it and rips it off before handing it to you. You grab the list and nod, "Yes, Mr. Vox.".

Truthfully, he didn't want you to do anything. Preferably, he'd have you perched on his lap like a pretty little trophy. But alas, that wasn't exactly a normal thing to ask of your new employee so, he settled with groceries for now.

Heading back into your car, you drive to the store of choice, Hellwhon. Personally, you think that store is gaudy and outrageously overpriced. But, hey, if you were as rich as Vox you'd probably shop there too! "Alright. Sushi, dolphin meat, coffee beans, and redbull..." you repeat to yourself, trying to memorize the list of bizarre groceries. Man, rich people are weird…

Despite your opinions on the abnormality of the upper class, you happily comply in buying the groceries.

Unbeknownst to you, Vox had been watching you the whole time. Street lamps, drones, security cameras, etc., were all Voxtech-owned and therefore can be monitored by the TV demon himself. All eyes were on you.

Alastor, his previous infatuation, was now completely disregarded by Vox. He cleared out his shrine of the Radio Demon and made way for a new one, you. Only you, always you. Previous body pillows, photos, and posters of Alastor were replaced by custom-made merch of you.

He'd taken screenshots of you from his surveillance cameras and plastered them onto body pillows. Nude, clothed, and uniformed photos of your likeness got printed and sent to a VoxTech manufacturer for some poor employee to make. The TV demon spent hundreds of dollars on products in your likeness: candles with your face on them, framed photos, etc. His infatuation is growing, and it's growing fast.

__ Heavy grocery bags fill your arms as you approach the V tower. Pressing your back against the heavy glass doors, you struggle to open them. Vox's other assistant, Papermint, notices your struggle from the lobby and hastily opens the door for you. "Thank you," you breathe out. He nods and gestures for the groceries, "N-No problem! Let me get that for you-". You turn your arms away, "Oh, I've got it. Thanks though!".

As much as you wanted help, you had to do it on your own You needed to prove yourself after showing up an hour late on your first day. Vox needs to know that you're capable of this job!

Your arms start to give out the longer you hold the heavy plastic bags. "Fuck," you mutter to yourself, "why didn't I just accept his help?". After an agonizing wait in the crowded elevator, you finally reach the penthouse floor.

Scurrying across the penthouse, you reach the high-tech, lavish kitchen. You sort all the groceries into their respective cupboards or shelves, except the dolphin meat, you weren't sure where that hell went.

Vox's head snaps towards the door as he hears you enter his office. "Hi, Mr. Vox," you say with a wide smile, "so sorry to bother I just have a quick question...". Vox beams as you enter, turning his full attention to you, "Yes, Doll?". "I wasn't sure what to do with this," you gesture to the package of dolphin meat. "Oh, right," he explains, striding closer towards you. He gestures his arms to the array of sharks surrounding his below office, “It’s for the fish, of course!”.

Right, the "fish". He glances down at the techy sharks before looking back at you, "Wanna feed them?". His eyes light up at the prospect of this. A hot, sexy woman feeding his precious little sharks?! He fought the urge to fuck you then and there.

"Uh," you hesitate, having the slightest fear of sharks, "maybe another time.". "C'mon," he insists, stepping closer to you. Large hands find the small of your back and guide you to the edge of the platform. "They won't bite..." he whispers in your ear softly, his hot breath hitting your skin.

Fuck. You couldn't say no now! Not with your boss all insistent and close to you like this. You swallow as you brace yourself to face your fears. Glancing down at the package of dolphins, you struggle to tear open the plastic wrap. Maybe if you procrastinated enough with the packaging, he'd let it go and get his soft hands off your waist. Shit, were you turned on or scared? Either way you needed to get this over with ASAP!

Taking a step forward, Vox reluctantly releases his grip on you. You hold out the food far out in front of you and plop it into the water. Sharks splash and surround the meat, fighting viciously for it.

You shuffled back rapidly away from the aquarium and bumped into your boss, "Shit!". His firm chest presses up against your back, hands gripping your waist to keep you in place. "Careful now, sweetheart," he whispers in a husky voice. Fuck, that was hot.

You quickly regain your composure and step back to maintain a professional distance between the two of you, "Yes, sir! I-I'm so sorry!". "No apology necessary, Doll," he says with half-lidded eyes and a casual smile. You were for sure fired for this, despite his reassuring words. You were late, reluctant to do what he asked, and now you're kind of turned on by your boss. What kind of assistant are you?! "I guess I'll get back to work. A-Anything you need? Coffee? Tea?".

"Hm," he ponders for a moment, "do me a favor and organize the pantry in my penthouse.". "Yes, sir!" you say, quickly running out of his office and to his penthouse. Phew. Finally, you're out of that humiliating situation.

Vox didn't need his pantry organized. His penthouse is practically spotless! Truthfully, he just needed you occupied for a while so he could revel in the lingering scent of you on his clothes. As soon as you're out of sight, he scrambles to his desk and whips out his surveillance footage. He'd already had his favorite clips of you compiled into a file named "<3". In said file, there are various videos of you roaming around doing routine tasks. He'd save it into the file whenever you looked particularly cute or ravishing.

Vox scrolls through the file and clicks on different videos and screenshots compiled in it. "Hnnf, yes," he moans out, unbuckling his belt with haste. He quickly slides down his pants and boxers, freeing his aching navy cock. Pre-cum leaked through his tip and slid down the side of his hefty shaft. Shrugging his coat off, he sniffs the place where you'd been previously pressed against. He takes in the scent, trying to smell every trace of your scent that lingered on his clothes.

His hand wraps around his length and squeezes tightly. He closes his eyes as he pumps himself, imagining your pretty little hand wrapped around him, "Fuck, Y/N... That's it, Doll...". The pace of his movements increases while inhaling your scent on his jacket with desperate fervor. Prying his eyes open, he looks at the monitor displaying your likeness.

He drops the jacket and reaches for his computer mouse. Scrolling through the file, he finds the video he's looking for, a video of you in the shower. A grin spreads across the TV demon's screen, "Hah, fuck... So fucking perfect, gonna make you mine.". He pumps his hand faster, hips bucking into his own hands as he chases his release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck FUUCK," buckets of cum pour all over his hand as his orgasm crashes over him.

He grabs a couple wipes and cleans himself up, wishing he had you there to lick him clean. Slumping back into the chair, a frown spreads across his face. His focus is fixed on the screen with longing in his eyes. Staring at the monitors, he reaches out, putting a hand onto the screen, "Why can't you be mine...?".

The rest of the week droned on pretty monotonously. Despite a few tasks that would take you tops 5 minutes here and there, you didn't have much to do. You'd insist on helping Vox with whatever, but rest assured, he always claimed that there was simply nothing to do. And while it's great to sit around all day in your Boss's fancy office, it does get boring and a little strange. Why did Vox even hire you in the first place? It seemed like he didn't need you.

One day, you're out on a coffee run for Vox. Of course, he insisted that you buy something for yourself on him. You make your way down to the food court in the lobby and grab two coffees, one large black coffee, and a small iced latte. On your way back, you run into Vox's other assistant, Papermint. "Hey," you greet him, "how's it going?".

The demon looked nervous and stressed out. He gives you a shaky smile, "H-Hey there.". He almost immediately darts away after he speaks. You follow after him, "Wait up!". Why'd he run away from you? Did you say something wrong?

He stops in his tracks and sighs, unaware of the fact that you're right behind him. You tap him on the shoulder. The sinner jumps at the contact of your hand on his back, "Ah! Y-You're still here...". He nervously chuckles, to which you raise an eyebrow, "Uh, yeah! I was hoping to chat, actually. I'm pretty bored around here.". He stammers, "B-Bored? H-Here?". "Uh huh..." you confirm. Maybe you should've let this guy run away, he didn't seem very stable-

"Y-You're not tasked with an impossible list of things to do?!" he asks, gripping your shoulders tightly. "What, no? I've barely had anything to do all week!" you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his grip. He realizes his intense embrace and lets you go, eyes scanning the surrounding area as if he were making sure nobody was watching. Papermint leans in closely and whispers, "You're telling me you have had no work?". You nod. He takes a deep breath, speaking in a strained voice, "I have had the same, if not more, work than before. Hiring you was supposed to alleviate some of my workload...".

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. He shakes his head, "No, it's not your fault...". Whipping his head back, he looks at the security camera facing directly toward him, "C-Crap, I've got to go!". Before you can protest, he darts out of sight, the camera turning its head to follow his every move.

What the fuck was that?

__ A scowl forms on Vox's face as he watches you and Papermint through the live security feed, "I thought I told that քʀɨƈӄ to never speak to you...". His eyes stay fixed on the screen, electricity sparking from his screen as his anger simmers. It seems Papermint needs a "friendly talking to".

You made your way back up to Vox's office a bit after your strange encounter with Papermint. Balancing the two coffees in one arm, you used the other arm to push open the office door. The door doesn't budge open. Huh, weird...

Pressing your ear to the door, you hear yelling and the commotion of objects being thrown. You can't exactly make out what's being said, however, it was clear Vox was the one yelling. He sounded pissed.

Moments later, you hear the yelling stop, along with footsteps getting louder as they reach the door. Stepping back from the door, Papermint emerges, bruised and limping, sporting a dark black eye. You reach your hand out to him, to which he flinches. "Are you-" Before you can finish, his eyes widen in fear, and he limps away as fast as he can.

Shit, was this your fault? You were supposed to be picking up Papermint's slack. He probably got in trouble for wasting time and talking to you. Maybe you should talk to Vox about picking up your dead weight...

A shakey hand reaches out to push open the door, a determined look on your face. Vox is hunched over his desk, the room disheveled with a few objects lying broken on the floor. "Sir?"

He turns over with a deranged look. His expression softens as he sees you, a smile stretching across his face as he straightens his posture, "Ah, there you are! My favorite assistant? What do you need, Doll?". "Actually," you take a deep breath, stealing yourself for the conversation ahead, "I wanted to talk about something.". He tilts his head and nods, gesturing for you to continue.

"Well, I-I want to start doing more around here. I feel like I don't do much," looking up at him, you try to gauge his reaction. He sighs, narrowing his eyes as he speaks, "Did Papermint say something to try to guilt trip you into doing more work? Because if he did I-".

"No, no, no!" you interrupt. You start pacing in small circles as you find the words to express yourself, "What I mean is, I feel as if I don't do enough. I-I'm your assistant, I want to assist you... and I guess I feel as if I'm failing...".

Terror flashes across Vox's face. Failing?! His perfect little assistant?! The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad, he just wanted you to relax at work instead of stressing out over work, "What? No, uh, here! I'll assign you something very important!". A wave of relief washes over you, "Really?". He nods, chuckling nervously as he scrambles to find a task for you. Scrolling through the calendar on his computer, he finds something for you to do, "Ah, here we are!". He turns to you with a composed grin, "I have a meeting today at 4:00. Now, I understand that it's last minute, and it's not the type of duties that you usually do-". "I'll do it!" you say with a smile.

Vox lets out a satisfied hum, "Good girl.". He clacks away on his keyboard for a moment before turning back to face you, "I've sent you an email regarding all the information you'll need to present at the meeting.". "Great! You won't regret this Mr. Vox!" you beam.

As you step into the conference room, a sense of purpose fills the air. The long table, polished to a shine, invites collaboration, while the chairs await their occupants. You methodically arrange the seating, making sure everyone will have a comfortable spot and a good view of the presentation.

Eventually, a few of VoxTech's affiliates walk in and wait for you to present. "Hi, I'm Y/N," you introduce with a wide smile, "I'll be here in place of Vox today!". A couple of the demons give you a skeptical look. "Rest assured, I know everything there is to know! So if you'd just look over here," you point to the presentation displayed on the flatscreen at the head of the room.

As you present, you find yourself reaching over the table often, causing the skimpy uniform to ride up in the back. And while you tried to fix it, it looked a bit odd for you to fidget with your skirt hem every 5 seconds. So, you let it ride up. Nobody would see you anyway since they're faced the opposite way, so no worries! Right?

Vox leaned back in his office chair, his eyes glued to the live feed on his computer monitors. You were currently bent over the conference table, your short skirt riding up and exposing the skin of your ass as you worked diligently on the presentation. Vox's needy cock twitches in his trousers at the sight, his mind filled with dirty fantasies.

He imagines running his hands over your toned body, gripping your hips as he fucks you hard against the table. He reaches down to unzip his pants, freeing the heavy erection from the confines of his pants. His cock springs out as he pulls down his boxers, beads of pre-cum leaking from the turquoise tip.

His breathing grew heavier as he watched you, imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to that beautiful body... Bend you over the desk and pound into your tight cunt until you scream. Suck on those perfect tits while he fingered your dripping slit... make you beg for his cock like the desperate slut you are…

Vox starts stroking himself, "Fuck, so pretty...". He whimpers as he pumps his cock faster, watching as more and more of your ass unknowingly gets exposed. Pressing a button, the segment clips and loops over and over. Releasing his shaft, he opens a cabinet where a body pillow of you is stuffed inside. Positioning the pillow of you under him, he starts humping the pillow, rubbing his shaft against the soft fabric.

His eyes flicker back to the screen, a dopey blissed-out smile across his face, "Hnnf, so naughty... Showing off for me like that...". Hips buck against the pillows vigorously as he approaches orgasm. Unbridled moans and grunts leave his lips, not bothering to keep his voice down in case others might hear. With a final thrust, cum shoots across the pillow, painting your printed self.

Slumping against the chair, he wipes the cum off himself and the pillow with a tissue, "Let's get you all cleaned up, Princess.". With a satisfied sigh, he tenderly gathers the used tissues, disposing of them discreetly in the wastebasket at his feet. Then, cradling the soiled pillow close, he brings it to his face, he inhales deeply as if trying to somehow get your scent. A contented smile plays on his lips as he nestles the pillow against him, the soft fabric relaxing his body after the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a moment, he relaxes, sitting perched on the chair as he cuddles the pillow. But soon enough, reality sets in. With a sigh, he tucks the soiled pillow away in a dresser drawer and pulls up his pants. He grimaces, realizing his underwear is damp from precum. Ugh, he needs to do laundry. Grabbing both the pillowcase and his soiled boxers, he strides out of his office and makes his way up the elevator to his penthouse. __

Meanwhile, the meeting had gone very well! Despite the minor wardrobe malfunction, you got through your presentation quickly and efficiently! Hopefully, this alleviated at least one task of Papermint's plate... every time you thought of what happened to him you got a horrible stomach ache.

You clean up the conference room and head to Vox's office with news from how the meeting went. Damn it, the door's locked again! Trepidation filled you as the worst possible scenario plagued your thoughts. Did Papermint get in trouble because of you again?!

You listen in through the door and hear a loud voice. However, it wasn't exactly yelling... it was more akin to moaning. "The fuck's going on in there?" you mutter to yourself. An unnerving chill crawls down your spine, "Ugh, I don't even want to know.".

Instead, you take the elevator to his penthouse and make yourself busy there, cleaning, organizing, and whatever else that could keep you busy.

__ Vox walks into the penthouse, panic settling in as he sees you cleaning the sink. Quickly hiding the cum-soaked items behind his back, he flashes a nervous grin. "Oh! H-Hey! What are you doing here?" he asks with a nervous chuckle.

You set down the dish in your hand and smile, "Just cleaning up. You were busy in your office so I occupied myself with some tasks.". The color nearly drains from his screen as you mention him being "busy" in his office, "Right right... You didn't happen to walk into my office, did you?". You shake your head no. "Good, good," he says with a relieved sigh.

The two of you stand there in silence for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say. Vox shuffles awkwardly to the side towards the laundry room, "Don't mind me, I just need to wash a few things.". Tearing off a paper towel, you dry off your hands, "Oh! Let me do that for you-". You walk towards him but he backs away, "No!" he blurts out louder than intended. "I- Ahem, what I mean is," he starts sweating, nervous that you'll find out about his perverted venture, "I can wash them myself! No need to halt your duties, my dear.". "Uh, okay..." you comply, confused about why he's so adamant about this. What's he hiding?

Vox walks backward into the laundry room, shutting the door in front of him with an awkward kick. "Alright, that was super normal," you mutter to yourself sarcastically, "just another normal day with my normal boss."

Walking back to the sink, you resume cleaning the dishes. After around 5 minutes, Vox walks out of the laundry room, checking you out from behind. A husky low voice calls out from behind you, "Bye, Doll.". You turn your head back and see Vox standing by the door. "Bye, Mr. Vox," you reply with a polite smile.

The TV demon practically melted into a puddle at your warm expression. He takes one last longing look at you before leaving the penthouse __

An hour or so passes, and you hear the beeping of the washing machine. At first, you ignore the sound. You really should respect your boss' privacy. The machine continues to beep, the relentless noise testing your nosy tendencies.

Maybe you could just switch the clothes into the dryer, that wouldn't be nosy! It'd be the responsible thing to do as his assistant. Once you justify your snooping, you walk into the laundry room with an air of confidence in your decisions.

The door of the washing machine swings open. Hmm, it just looks like a few pieces of clothing. You reach out and grab the wet articles of fabric. The first one you look at is a simple pair of navy boxers. 'Pft, maybe he pissed himself or something,' you chuckle at the thought.

The discovery sends a chill down your spine as you inspect the pillow, fingers brushing against the soft fabric. It was you. A bizarre photo of you that you hadn't seen before. A wave of nausea washes over you as you take in the unmistakable resemblance - the same shade of hair, the curve of your neck, even the subtle blemishes in your skin. Your mind reels, trying to process this unsettling discovery. Why would Vox keep such a disturbing object? Was it some kind of fetish of his? Your breath comes in short gasps as you stare at the pillow, your eyes tracing over the photo that evokes a haunting familiarity.

Suddenly, a hand grabs at your waist and another at your neck. "You really weren't supposed to see that," the familiar whisper sends a chill down your spine. You try to explain yourself, but you can't seem to find the words. Your flight or fight response kicks in. Flight.

You attempt to pry yourself from his firm hold on you, but your attempts are futile. "You're not going anywhere, princess," he stares into your eyes with his hypnotic red glowing eye. Your vision blurs, your mind going numb as the room starts to spin.

Your eyes blink open, your head throbbing as you wake up. Looking around, the surroundings were familiar of sorts, you just couldn't put it together. Your fuzzy mind works overtime to figure out where you are. It's a bedroom. A lavish one at that. It's sleek and modern and, frankly, quite boring. Blue and red accents are scattered around the room. Blue and red... Wait, this is Vox's bedroom. In that instant, everything became clear — the cloth covering your mouth, the ropes bound around your waist and wrists, securing you to the chair.

"Someone's awake," a voice coos into your ear. Your muffled screams do nothing to help you, the TV demon looking back at you with an unfazed grin. A single tear rolls down your cheek, fearing the worst. Would he kill you? Would he torture you?

"Shh, don't cry," he wipes the tear off your cheek with his thumb, hand cradling your face as he tries to soothe you, "You're safe with me, don't worry, Doll.". Safe?! Was that a joke?! You shoot him a glare.

He cups your face in his hands, "Don't look at me like that, Y/N.". Tracing a finger along your jawline, he tilts your face up towards him, "You look beautiful like this, all tied up and helpless.". Fear twists your stomach into knots as you meet Vox's gaze, searching for any hint of humanity in his eyes. His claws rake through your hair, hands finding the knot at the back of the cloth. He unties it, freeing your mouth from the confines of the tight fabric. "What do you want from me?!" you gasp out.

Vox chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine, "Oh, princess, I think you know exactly what I want. I've wanted it for so long now.". His fingers drifted lower, brushing against the top of your breast through your blouse.

Trepidation and anxiety course through your veins, sweat building up on your skin. You try to squirm away, but the ropes binding you to the chair only dig deeper into your skin, making you wince. "Please, stop..." you whisper helplessly.

"C'mon, don't try to deny how enticing life with me would be," he explains in a low voice, "I'd take care of you, you wouldn't have to worry about work or money ever again.". He circles around behind you, soft hand massaging your shoulders as he speaks into your ear, "You wouldn't have to live in that crappy apartment anymore. No more worrying about rent, food, anything. It'd all be taken care of.". You turn your head and meet his gaze, your expression unconvinced. He scowls at your expression, red rings appearing in his eye in a pattern. Shit, he's trying to hypnotize you. You have to fight it.

"You will be mine. Your role here at VoxTech has changed, alright?" he commands, the once repulsive idea now sounding strangely enticing. You close your eyes and shake your head, "No! Stop, you can't manipulate me like this.". He scoffs, tired of hearing your rejections, "Oh, be serious! Do you really wanna live out the rest of your afterlife being nothing? Face it, without me, you can't get out of the dull life you have.". As much as you wanted to yell at him, tell him he was wrong, you didn't... You hated yourself for even considering his deal. On one hand, you'd be with someone unfathomably unstable... on the other, you'd be financially stable for the first time in your life... you'd be protected and loved, something you've never had. "...Fine," you hesitantly agree.

Vox reaches out to untie the rope around you, "Good girl.". He takes your hand and guides you to his bed, sitting you down on his lap, "See? That wasn't so hard.". He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, "This is where you belong, Doll. Isn't that right?".

He takes note of your lack of response, grabbing your chin roughly to look at him, "Answer me when I talk to you.". Swallowing your pride, you nod, "Okay.". Vox releases his grip on your chin and smiles softly. He moves in closer and kisses you tenderly while combing his claws through your hair. His kisses were surprisingly soft and loving, yet you couldn't bring yourself to kiss him back.

Hands snake down to your blouse, unbuttoning it until your chest is exposed. Grabbing your wrists, he guides your hands to his jacket, silently asking you to undress him as well. You comply, sliding the jacket off his torso and reaching around his neck to unite his bowtie. The TV demon watches you with adoring eyes, biting his lip softly at the sight. To him, doing this was a sign that you actually wanted him.

"Arms up," you command softly. He obeys with a delighted smile. Slipping the vest over his head, you take off his dress shirt and discard the clothes onto the floor. His chest was surprisingly toned... Not a bad sight to be honest.

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Like what you see?”. You roll your eyes. Vox smirks and leans in for another kiss, mashing his lips against yours feverishly. He moans softly against your lips, laying you down on the bed until he's hovering over you.

Hands trail down your chest and to your skirt, pulling it down with your stockings and panties. Once fully undressed, his eyes widen with admiration, gently reaching out to cup your breast in his palm, "Finally... Mine".

Vox kneads your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peak into hard little buds. Leaning down, Vox captures your lips in a brutal kiss, forcing his tongue past your teeth to claim your mouth.

"I've dreamed of this," Vox rasps against your skin, his free hand sliding down to grasp your thigh. Your body betrays you, an uncomfortable slick building between your thighs, causing you to squirm. He smiles softly at your fidgeting, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, princess.". His fingers find your sensitive nub, rubbing firm circles that send shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your core. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction and more pressure.

Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as the coil of tension within you winds tighter. Vox's fingers never faltered, driving you closer to the brink with each passing second. Suddenly, Vox withdrew his hand, leaving you panting and aching with need. You whine softly. "Not yet, Doll," he whispers, "we have all night, and I intend to make every moment count.".

He sits up, legs on either side of you as he unbuttons his trousers and pulls down the zipper. Sliding off his pants, he discards them onto the heap of clothing on the floor. He now sits before you in his boxers, the outline of his hardened cock visible through the fabric. Pre-cum soaking the stretched underwear, your eyes fixed on the damp spot.

The TV demon hooks his claws under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down hastily without hesitation. His cock springs free, the erect member standing tall against his stomach. Vox's cock is impressive, thick, and long, with a prominent vein running along its underside. It's a terrifying and tantalizing sight, the girthy head flushed a bright turquoise, a stark contrast to his navy shaft. The tip leaks beads of pre-cum that glisten in the dim light. He climbs over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Behold, Doll... My body, a testament to my love for you.".

His hands grab your thighs and spread them apart, revealing your slick pussy to him. He pushes into you slowly, filling your needy hole completely, "Hnnf, so fucking tight.". Hips rock into yours at a leisurely pace, savoring every moment of this. His cock filled you entirely and hit your g-spot just right. You couldn't help the moans that fell from your lips with each thrust.

A smile spreads across his face as he pants, pistoning harder into you now. His fingers find your swollen bud and gather some slick onto it. He rubs slow circles, the added stimulation bringing you closer to orgasm.

He keeps pounding into you, each thrust sending shivers through both their bodies. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your soft moans, his eyes locked onto yours. His movements became faster, more erratic as he neared his peak. Lewd wet sounds filled the room as he slammed his cock inside of you, "Say you love me...". "Wha?" you look at him confused. "S-Say it!" he commands shakily, his rhythm slowing as if threatening to stop.

"F-Fuck, okay, I love you.".

He reaches up to hold your hand against the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, "Love you more...". Your hips buck up to meet his, craving release. With a loud grunt, Vox buried himself deep inside you as he came, filling you up with his hot seed. Your orgasm follows soon after, walls clenching around his spent cock. His body trembled against yours as he rode out his climax, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you take a moment to collect yourselves before Vox rolls beside you, a giddy smile on his face. You roll over to face him and immediately get pulled onto his chest, hugging you suffocatingly tight. What have you gotten yourself into? Before you can let the regret set in, you fall asleep.

"Goodnight, my love.".

Sunlight creeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his bedroom, causing you to stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, still intertwined with Vox. "Shit, what have I done?" you whisper to yourself, dragging your hand down your face. Maybe you could just leave, change your name, and never come to this sector of the pride ring ever again. Carefully, you untwine your body from Vox's and hop off the bed, gathering your clothes off the floor. You slide on your skirt when large hands grab at your waist. "Where do you think you're going~" a raspy voice asks from behind you. Shit, you got caught. "I, uhm-".

Vox cuts you off and pulls you back into bed with him, "You're not going anywhere, my dear... You belong to me now, only me.". His grip on you was tight and relentless, no way of escape now. You lay there staring at the ceiling, remorse causing your stomach to ache. There's no chance Vox was gonna let you go now, no, now that he had you you'd belong to him forever.

The End.

__ I HOPE YGS LIKED THIS ONE!! PT.2 MAYBE LOL IF YGS WANT IT WKEFBHKWEFWKBHF. my mind is FRIEDDD so if i randomly repeated stuff or spelt some shit embarrassingly wrong im sorry.

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ:

@takemetoneverland420, @rlini0914, @ithofficial, @angel-fallz, @sweet-radio, @fru1tbatzz,

@janussillyprompts, @leonotlara

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 4 months ago

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Some of @render-me-usless' Fav Fics!

If you want to make me a list let me know in IM. You can do whatever you want, fave fics, fav tropes or even check out the pending asks page and fill one of those.

Where to Search for Snow by suburbanmotel

(1/1 I 8,954 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles and his Gigantic Repressed Feelings accidentally affect the weather. A lot. Like. A lot.

“It’s snowing, Stiles,” says Derek.

Stiles looks up. He nods. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Derek looks at him. “It’s snowing, Stiles. In your bedroom.”

Stiles and the Seven Wolves by SylvieW

(1/1 I 10,421 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles is Snow White, Kate is the Evil Queen, and when Chris the Huntsman doesn't kill him, he runs off to live with seven werewolves.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 33,552 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 81,018 I Teen I Sterek)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature I Sterek)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse

(25/25 I 115,506 I Explicit I Sterek)

"I'm sorry, I believe there's something wrong with my hearing," Stiles said. "Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me."

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn't misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there's an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won't last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott's brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

Black and Blue by charlotteinlace

(50/50 I 209,549 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles knows what he should be doing, finding a good Dom and seeing a few dozen therapists. But that shit can wait, right now he's got a gang to infiltrate and a murderer to find. A murderer who killed his father.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #submission #mates

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mins-fins · 1 month ago

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beyond the moon !

"you aren't about to lose such a worthy position to some hunky nepo baby".

synopsis: breaking news: the worst possible person you know is actually more than half decent in bed. of course, it's an easy slam dunk. you will begrudgingly admit that jaemin is pretty nice on the eyes—even if he has the personality of a barbed wire. it's a match made on this soul sucking earth. it's only a little perfect.

pairing: na jaemin x male!reader

genre: alternative universe, main hospital scenery, somewhat grey's anatomy fusion, interns the fic, strangers to rivals to rivals who hookup to friends who hookup to lovers, fluff, some angst, slightly suggestive tones, humor, crazy ass pining that's barely realized until 10k words in, some background relationships that provide other drama

warnings: swearing, explicit language, so many mentions of sex, almost tiptoes into borderline smut like five times, sexual humor, reader and jaemin are both equally emotionally underdeveloped and horny, drinking, the impending stress of the medical field, mentions of death, a bunch of medical jargon you probably don't care about, mentions of surgical procedures, some blood.. i think thats it

word count: 16.7k

notes: hello, merry christmas, happy one year anniversary to my hyuck work which started my whole nct saga on tumblr.. im afraid i am very mentally ill 😓 so!! surgeon jaemin!! originally surgeon jaemin was a serial killer but then i lost wave of that draft over the summer and i tried to do it again 😚 this was half based on early greys anatomy because why the fuck is that show so long and um my own life lowkey?? ofc im not sleeping with my fellow interns but i have seen too much of a hospital i have begun to see the white corridors in my fucking dreams.. save me please life has not treated isa mins-fins well 😭😭 and NO dont listen to user junjiie this is not a self insert i swear!! im still going to the hospital later today soooooooo i lost anyway 🤷‍♂️ lowercase intended as usual and last long work of the year 💖

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 1: do ethics matter when the dick is good? (hyperbole.. actually not)

frankly, it began on a mundane tuesday.

well as mundane as a tuesday for you could be, a week following getting dumped would typically be dedicated to mourning but guleum grace hospital is equally as busy each particular day. you did not underestimate the sheer amount of regular patrons at hospitals, your internship was all about that in fact, pouring your blood sweat and tears into some amateur surgery you had about a twenty five percent chance on performing correctly, however, any chance was any chance.

it isn’t as if you were some lunatic brisked with insanity who valued his work in an irregular fashion, you’d surmise that you were a regular workaholic, the epitome of an overworked medical student stereotype, it all sucked the soul out of you, though your scrubs remained spotless and the eye bags stuck in a much acquainted manner.

unfortunately, your heart attack inducing student debt won’t allow for you to simply quit, neither will your pride, your extent of competitiveness, and your bright need to prove your overbearing parents wrong.

getting into a deathly inviting internship program is enough, what’s shit is surviving, and surviving would be easy if not added on by such a nuisance.

what nuisance? you may ask, well the nuisance that so happens to b—

“present the case l/n”.

you somehow retain your sigh, if the distress is displayed through any means of visibility then doyoung merely doesn’t give a shit. “uh— samuel lawson, fifty two, has been in and out of hospitals four times in the last three months with complaints of sporadic, mild to moderate pain in his chest. we picked up on a heart murmur and his echo showed left ventricular hypertrophy with a repolarization abnormality”.

“what would you recommend?”

“the best course of action is to replace his aortic valve with a porcine valve and prescribe anticoagulants to improve the prognosis”.

“good, and why do we want to pay attention to his kidneys in this situation?”

“his kidneys?” you echo, former exhaustion manifesting in the unscathed widening of your eyes. there’s a whistle, lee donghyuck opting to feign forgetfulness to your very presence, as if he even knows the answer.

you aren’t as easily absentminded, you’ve been hard of thinking recently, read all those printed words yet none of them stuck to the confines of your brain. there’s then a sigh, you initially assume from doyoung, but of course it isn’t.

“ah dr na, how kind of you to join us, perhaps you could remind me of the answer?”

arms folded over his chest, jaemin doesn’t miss a beat. “since his heart isn’t functionally effective his kidneys work as a compensatory mechanism, we’ll need to take increased renin and aldosterone secretions into account when considering general anesthesia and how soon he can go into surgery”.

“i see somebody has been doing their homework” you graciously avoid his eyes, glowering in jaemin’s direction as he offers a meager eyebrow raise. “good job na, you’ll definitely be scrubbing in”.

you pray for his early death.

it’s a seamless lesson whilst interning, competition is everything; you love competition, you live for it even, and na jaemin just so happens to be the nuisance which troubles your every week.

it’s something to even survive your first year of interning, let alone in time for when the seven year residency rolls around. only the best become surgeons, a perfectly manufactured system that is definitely not flawed and has most likely not been the cause of many related mental breakdowns.

you’ve had some undisclosed issues out with na jaemin since the beginning of your program, his awareness manifests in his knowing glances, if swiping cases from under your feet and making your life as hellish as possible is equated to diverting entertainment, na jaemin is elated. at least he has the familial connections to ensure the acclaim, the regarded son of na kiwoo, one of the most well revered orthopedic surgeons in the country. now you aren’t petty enough to spew the claim that na jaemin is bad at his job, he isn’t, however, you are petty enough to state the fact that him getting extra time to redo the practical board exam would’ve never been granted to anybody not with the same fucking last name.

and you suppose somebody else could also reign as worthy competition, but you’re conceited, unabashed in the likeness of your own smarts, you didn’t brave the trenches of medical school to lose such a worthy position to some hunky nepo baby.

it’s about half past twelve when huang renjun stumbles into the on-call room.

“you drinking on the job?”

he glares, you smile, there’s something concerning his anger which gets a satisfying kick out of you. you were sat at a desk, overloading on coursework you’d give not even a mere glance toward once you got home, the placid diagrams of human arteries burned into your brain. you spent most of your day, resounding to most of your shift, hanging about downstairs in the E.R, handling skimpy stitches from those who couldn’t help but do something idiotic on a saturday morning. who knew? you’re aware dr. kim probably holds a much lowered opinion of you; however, you still preserve hope that he’ll allow you to scrub in on that upcoming LVAD replacement he has scheduled for later in the week.

“can you believe who got to scrub in on that corpus callosotomy?” his undertone indicated irritation, you did not have to take a glance backward, you could distinctly picture the snuggle frown tugging at his lips.

“can i buy a vowel?”

your response earns a hefty scoff, the ghost of a smile lingers as you take in his much visible exasperation. it appears he wants to look intimidating, but his docile like features do not sell such a point home. “kim wonil, can you believe it!?”

“oh really?” you click your tongue, the raise of an eyebrow paired with the raise of a nearby head, it’s lee jeno’s, you make out. “wow, maybe i should start sleeping with mark lee too”.

“well it’s not like anyone knows if they’re sleeping together— he’s basically just his protégé” what a gentleman lee jeno is, feigning unawareness at the whole thing.

“uh huh, me when i’m fucking the only attending neurosurgeon” you seethe. “seriously, you think he’s taking any under the table offers?”

“you’re an asshole”.

you simply blow renjun a kiss.

whilst renjun may be adamant on the whole civilized pursuit, you would say that sleeping with one of your bosses basically equates to getting favored treatment, you suppose your wavelength on that won’t ever change. “is that coursework?”

your eyebrows raise once renjun leans over your shoulder, you don’t make an effort to nod your head. “that’s coursework, what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m not about to have a splitting headache at home, trying to keep my sanity intact, you know”.

“more like wither your sanity— oh, hey jaemin”.

“hi” jaemin allows renjun the decorum of a smile, because for some reason renjun is the only other intern he has the gall to treat in the manner of a regular human being. he settles in the bed across from you with a look and doesn’t even try a glance in your direction, muttering a small greeting to jeno.

“do you want ibuprofen? i have some in my locker” renjun mutters softly.

you wave a dismissive hand. “no, i’m seriously about to max out on painkillers right now”.

“maybe it’s a tumor” jaemin unexpectedly adds, he doesn’t look up from a book.

“you wish”.

“i do”.

“it could be a caffeine headache” jeno helpfully reckons from where he is across the room, leaning up on his elbows to give you a sympathetic look.

“or the stress” renjun decides. “or your just sleepy because of the stress, i’m getting tired because of the stress” he then makes his way over to the dormant bed and flops right onto it.

“tumor~”.

“why the fuck do you care?”

“i most certainly do not”.

“drop dead asshole”.

“guys..” jeno weakly begins, glancing between you two as if silently picking a side.

“sorry” you feel little remorse towards the tumor hopeful fuckface, simply for everybody else. “the exhaustion is making me mean”.

it appears that a nearby zhong chenle utters the insult of you’re always mean somewhere above you, and then the room grows claustrophobic for you in about five more seconds.

when your chair emits a high pitched screech, renjun’s head rises. “where are you going?”

“gonna find something to do”.

then you shuffle out of the on-call room, feigning ignorance at na jaemin’s continuous stare.

later that week, the one person you observe when you walk into the on-call room on wednesday for your mid-shift nap is na jaemin, the current bane of your existence. you’ve been bumping shoulders in the O.R for the past week, and you’re beginning to think that the world is attempting to kill you early, those mystifying forces rambled about in storybooks manifesting whenever his name happens to appear in your mind.

you pause once you step in, meeting his eyes for a charged second before clenching your teeth, they’ll probably begin bleeding soon. you starkly consider backing out, but you can’t surrender your pride to this guy, that would be letting him win, so you sigh and lean your back against the door.

“i’m just here to sleep,” you voice. “waving my white flag”.

“you should be thanking me”.

you’re baffled. “excuse me?”

“i’ve saved your ass like twice this week, god kim would’ve literally eaten you alive if i weren’t around”.

your mouth dries up, jaemin seemingly revels in such a factor, swinging his legs sideways and out of the bed. “you’re terrible under pressure it’s a wonder you even made it through medical school”.

your left eye twitches, the one singular time you try to be civil, he just— he just decides to..?

“you’re so infuriating and arrogant and selfish—“

“oh really? love it when you talk down on me..”

“and you’re so— annoying god why does everyone like you? i hate you, hate you and your stupid privilege and i couldn’t care less what you think because you’re a fucking suck up! stop backing me up if it makes you so mad”.

jaemin then blinks, slow. “finished now?”

“yes” you drop your arms at the side, breathing having gone shallow as pure fury swirled in your ribs. you hate what jaemin does to you, whatever the fuck this is and why is the rooms temperature skyrocketing? that should be impossible in a hospital of all places, but you shouldn’t give it much thought because jaemin will probably begin over analyzing the singular movements of your facial expressions.

you hate feeling like you’re losing, you feel like your losing even if there’s no prevalent competition, it’s just.. jaemin.

that’s really why.

“good” jaemin replies. “i hope you don’t mind”.

and when he pushes you up against the door you think exactly three specific things in the second it takes for him to do that. 1; jesus this guy goes to the gym how the fuck are his forearms so huge? how is he finding time to hit the gym with such a consistent shift? 2; you should’ve gotten more words in cause oh he got the last laugh, and 3; you suddenly remember you never followed up on that post-op for patient 3109– but then all of those thoughts fly out the window when jaemin leads forward to kiss you.

na jaemin is kissing you, full on lips, hands-on-your-waist kissing you, and all you can do is suck in a breath as you then release a soft sound.

jaemin is ridiculously good at this, all soft despite his rough edges, how funny. he pulled off, taking your bottom lip with him before diving back in.

“i meant everything i said” you pant, even as jaemin pressed you further into the door and your arms wrapped around his shoulders in an effort to continue. you exchanged in a similar manner, frenzied and practically leaning half of him backward with your sheer force.

“i know” he grunts, so effortless in all he does, thumb finding the gap in your uniform which he very much decided to exploit. “but you want me anyway..”

“fuck you”.

so smart y/n, you’re getting into heaven with that one—

he chuckles as he mouths against your neck, light open mouthed kisses along your jaw, tugging at your shirt which acted as an obstacle. “that’s the goal”.

“smart ass”.

“well..”

it was the first and only time.

it actually should’ve been the first and only time, but then again, your decision making is particularly fuzzy.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 2: he’s a hotshot, so unfortunately a hotshot..

you’d been skilled enough to pick out your friends at guleum grace hospital on your first day. frankly you had met a good chunk at the intern mixer the hospital had held a week before you were all due to start, but you were the slightest bit nervous with the whole before day apprehension. lee jeno was an easy one, his timidly boyish attitude made for good company, smile replicated by his eyes as he hung around the refreshments table. he laughed at every single one of your jokes, he was sympathetic to your family predicament, much too familiar with such a thing.

lee donghyuck was similarly not a struggle, he seemingly mirrored many of the traits you found stuck to you and carried around throughout your turbulent adulthood. he clung to your side and assigned you the duty as his titular “person”, whatever that meant.

then there was huang renjun.

it isn’t as if he was unapproachable, per say, he was simply perpetual to consistent avoidance. he exchanged regular smiles yet didn’t divulge any further, somewhat unfriendly and argumentative, especially when donghyuck got on his nerves.

trivially, the only true reason you two became friends is because you assisted him in vomiting up his guts after he’d got a lashing for a mistake in the earlier days. your hand remained on the small of his back for the entire fifteen minutes, and when he finished unleashing his true extent of vulnerability upon you, he threatened you to keep your mouth shut, that threat just so happens to be the bow which ties the knot to your relationship.

renjun is able to refer to the patients as the human beings they are, sensitive and overly stubborn sure, but he’s decent under all the sour looks paired with plentiful insults.

zhong chenle? in a completely different league.

“fifty bucks y/n’s little conquest works at this hospital” he opts to enter, sliding into the spot beside you and exchanging a few looks as if he dumped his life savings onto the table for you to gorge on.

“fifty bucks my wha— how’d you even..?”

“aeri likes to gossip” chenle replies, full of cheek. “and a little birdie told me they saw you leaving the on-call room all flustered”.

“a little— who?”

“i can’t tell you my sources”.

“what if i just had a really good nap?”

“thirty bucks it’s an intern” renjun decides to add on, and you blink his way in sheer betrayal. yes they’re right but you didn’t divulge your weeks ago on-call room hookup story time to anybody, you just.. thought about it.

“that’s what yizhuo was saying! you know we have a bet right?” he digs through his pocket before pulling out an unscathed piece of paper. “let’s see we have dr suh from plastics, yeonjun, dejun, and our very own nepo baby na jaemin, pretty good don’t you think?”

“why is jaemin on the list? take jaemin off the list,” though you swipe for the paper, chenle’s got some fast ass hands.

“no no hear me out, okay? he has my vote because the tension is undeniable but i’m on your side and i don’t think you’ll give into his whims”.

“what whims?”

“his seduction tactic including starting petty fights?” renjun recalls, blinking in your direction as if attempting some newly discovered form of communication. “he probably gets off on that..”

“oh he does!”

and then they begin, you simply sigh as you make the effort to finish your lunch, acquainted with the leftovers you again had to heat up because there was little time for you to actually cook something new.

“jaemin’s a freak, wonil said—“

“we can’t trust anything he says, he’s literally fucking dr. dudebro” you steal a fry off chenle’s plate, humming along with your bite.

“i thought they broke it off?” renjun asks in denial, though his gleaming ‘i knew it’ look would completely beg to differ.

“oh come on! everybody knows they’re still fucking, no mystery, no thrill”.

renjun crinkles his nose at the display of crudeness, you don’t forget to recall the thirty bucks he entered into this godforsaken betting pool. “can i kill him?”

your hands raise in mock surrender. “not in front of me, we swore an oath of peace” you rise from your place and keep your plate in your bag. “besides there’s no mystery, no thrill”.

“don’t leave me with him!” renjun squeaks. “where are you going!?”

you do not let up the walking, however, you allow him at least one reassuring smile.

“to see a guy about a thing!”

in a rare act of perfect timing, you’re just able to sprint to the elevator as soon as it’s closing. by the power of the universe’s most evil, jaemin is the only one inside, and he blankly stares as you hold your folders out to hold the door before ducking in. you hit the button for the sixth floor and begin panting as you lean against the wall.

jaemin barely spares a glance, but his smile says everything. “back for more already?”

“did you tell anyone about us?”

he opts to chuckle at that one. “us? we sleep together once and you’re already thinking there’s an us baby?”

“shut the fuck up, na, like half our class is in a betting pool for when i’m going to let you into my pants so i swear to god if you told anybody i’m going to ship you to the O.R and harvest all of your fucking organs”.

the threat shines brightly above him, smile shimmering. “i’m sure you’d love to do that”.

his smile is endless and the point by which his stare begins is simply dark, it’s that stupid dead-eyed stare that could murder anyone just by one mere glance. if looks could kill, your insides would’ve been splattered all over this elevator currently.

finally, jaemin rolls his eyes.

“christ, relax, no i didn’t, i definitely don’t know anything about a bet either”.

you let out a much needed breath and again allow yourself to lean against the wall of the elevator. the only worse thing than people thinking your friends with jaemin is people thinking you’re actively sleeping with jaemin. well— okay you suppose there are worse things to be known for but being pegged as the intern banging na jaemin is definitely up there.

“i meant what i said by the way, that was a one time thing”.

“of course”.

“stop fucking smiling like that”.

it appears to be his innate need to ensure your irritation, his smile barely resists the clear urge to grow at the sight of your frown. “god, thought you liked my smile?”

“it’s never happening again” you insist. “no more sex, not with you anyway”.

“great” jaemin replies. he finally does turn to face you. “so when you say never again are you actually making a definite final decision or are you simply playing hard to get?”

“what do you think?” you retort, you’re two floors away from your destination, the lab reports you’re clutching much vicely resulting in sweaty palms.

jaemin licks his lips, all high and mighty. “i’m sure you don’t want to know what i’m thinking”.

you look up to meet his stare in a singular effort to glare equally as hard, it’s futile. jaemin’s got the eyes of a predator, as if he’ll pounce if you attempt a single move out of this elevator, it’s striking, his eyes trail all the way up from your terribly expensive shoes and up your body, stopping at your mouth.

he seems pleased with himself, tipping his head forward when the elevator dings at your floor.

you allow a squint, briskly leaving him behind. it’s only three steps out of the elevator that you realize you left him without an answer, therefore leaving him with the last word, but you conclude you’ve walked too far to shout, yet it seems jaemin has no qualms.

“you know where to find me!” he calls.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 3: good sex is addicting! healthy? eh..

naturally it happens again..

and again,

and once again.

if you were in a better place of mind, perhaps if you didn’t contain loads of work on your shoulder and slumped with courses of continuous caffeine, you’d find the right mind to chide yourself for making such a stupid decision, but you’re simply a selfish and desperate man. this is like— the best sex you’ve had since undergrad, not that there were many good examples to be the judge of that one anyway (with little offense given to shotaro, he’s a sweetheart but you two barely ever got it on as it is).

the thing is, you’re beginning to have a little fun with it. sure, you’d felt as if you were betraying yourself after the second or third time but it’s now become its own little adventure. sneaking around and whispering in the hallways in tandem with disappearing into random storage closests is fun.

jaemin is merely jaemin when it’s all over, barbed wire esqe jaemin with a personality you’d liken to some miserable children’s movie villain.

but it works, it isn’t as if you’re doing this because jaemin has a to die for personality, you’re doing it because you’re stressed, despite the fact that he is probably the main contributor of such stress, he at least helps you relieve that stress.

“somethings up with you,” jeno makes apparent when he walks past the couch, casual, conversational.

droning on the television is some nature documentary you don’t recall turning on, acting as background noise as you observe the surgery dr. kim assigned you. you technically aren’t allowed to bring your work home but you’ve also always enjoyed poking holes into rules, you bring your teeth down on a goldfish cracker that you’ve had between your fingers for about five minutes.

“what?” you finally reply.

“you seem different” jeno rewords graciously. “brighter, less.. porcupine-y”.

“i can be mean if you want,” you decide. “you want that puppy?”

jeno turns red, continuous head shaking as he clears his throat. “i just meant— i don’t know, you seem a little less miserable than before, not all grouchy, i’m happy for you”.

“pfft— thanks, always knew you loved me nono”.

his chagrin at such a nickname manifests in his much particular nose scrunch, his arms folding over his chest stubbornly. “don’t call me that.. so anyway, what changed?”

“hm?”

he leans over the couch, staring you down suspiciously, unnaturally nosy. “you can’t just decide to not be miserable overnight, what happened?”

you tilt your head up at him. “i’m getting to scrub in on proper surgeries, and i’m getting laid!”

jeno appears surprised, though gladdened anyway. “oh really? so who’s the guy then?”

you squint at him. “chenle put you up to this?”

“what?” he seems taken aback, but equally completely caught. “no?”

you open your mouth to rebut that clear lie, yet you’re both interrupted by lee donghyuck barreling into the room, looking too good for a regular saturday night, fancy overcoat draped over his arm that he definitely stole from renjun.

“stop looking at me and help me put this on” he motions towards his empty wrist and a fancy looking bracelet.

jeno simply whistles lowly.

“where are you going dressed up like this?” you inquire in the manner of a scrutinizing parent. “you got a date?” you don’t miss his avoidance of eye contact once you actually fasten the thing around his wrist.

“..yes”,

jeno applauds happily, much too excited, as if he were the one going on a date.

“give us a spin” you chide.

“seriously?”

both you and jeno nod in unison.

donghyuck begrudgingly obliges.

“you look good” jeno states.

“very good” you ruffle his hair irritatingly, and he hisses as he bats your hand away, muttering his small thanks. “have fun!”

you make sure to blow him a kiss on his way out, donghyuck makes sure to slam the door on his way out.

jeno then turns to you. “can i guess your guy’s name?”

“no!”

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 4: secrets out eventually!!

you suppose you had to eventually tell your friends at some point, of course that would include admitting zhong chenle is right and that sucks the life out of you for a much identifiable reason. the other three are bound to find out about jaemin soon enough, because whilst you’ve never been a talker, it’s getting annoying to do the constant walk of shame to jaemin’s apartment.

“i’m really trying to understand what your problem with me is” jaemin grins, all teeth, perfectly straight purely white fucking teeth. you’re back in the closet again, you can’t help but surmise that there’s a joke in there somewhere.

“i thought you didn’t care?”

“i don’t, it’s simply so cute how you get angry, kinda turns me on”.

you decide to ignore that one, wiping your mouth over with the back of your hand. you then focus on getting your shirt back to its original, somewhat normal looking form, god you’re so reckless.

“i’m just saying.. if you put effort into actually getting to know me we’d actually be pretty good— fuck ow!” he winces in the manner of a kicked puppy, all because you twisted a piece of skin between your fingers.

“i’m not interested in getting to know you, thought i made that clear” you voice.

“only thing you’ve made clear is that you believe it’s your god given right to hate me since no one else does”.

“oh you make me feel so special, i’m sure there’s someone else in this world who hates you as much as i do”.

“sure y/n” jaemin begins, “i find it hard to believe you actually do hate me” he nips at your ear, you really shouldn’t let jaemin kiss your neck, but you don’t push him off, he’d throw a hissy fit.

just as his hand begins venturing downward the closest door creaks open, and you two jump apart as if you’ve been caught, standing in the doorway is none other than lee donghyuck.

“what the fuck?” he whispers, quickly closing the door behind him. when he steps into the dingy white light, you notice the wet tears against his eyelashes, everything else is erased from your mind.

“hey” you begin, voice soft. “what’s wrong? did something happen?” you smooth over your scrubs.

“nothing” his voice gives it away. “we can’t cry mid shift anymore?”

no, but donghyuck hasn’t cried over a patient in a while, that’s typically your prerogative.

“it’s wonil” he sniffs. “stupid fucking kim wonil,” he sits down on an upturned bucket, once you kneel beside him, he pulls you into a hug to bury his tear streaked face against your neck. “i’m gonna have to change my name and transfer to gwangju instead!”

you look over donghyuck’s trembling shoulder at jaemin, who appears just as clueless as you are. he instead opts to patting the small of his back in support, rubbing soothing strokes. “could i have some elaboration, babe?”

“he used me” he says, holding onto his sobs. “took me on a stupid fucking fancy date and then i caught him with mark lee— oh my god, he.. he lied to me, he said they broke it off months ago but that obviously wasn’t true and he kept scrubbing in on the important surgeries, i thought he— we were going out for months and i just, fuck i feel awful y/n”.

well that’s.. not what you expected to hear at all. your head spins.

“wait— wonil? that’s who?”

“can we not talk about that part right now?” he simply allows for the tears to free fall, you attempt to wipe them as best you can.

sure, it’s nothing.

“did he tell you? how’d you even find this out?”

“no he didn’t i saw them” he covers his face with his own hands, distraught. “and he didn’t even care..”

“then none of it is your fault” you assure, patting the side of his arms. “he’s an asshole”.

it doesn’t quell donghyuck enough, his shoulders continuously quivering. “i had a bad feeling, i really should’ve known better—“

“he’s a cheat, he should know better, don’t beat yourself up over this”.

“i fucking loved him y/n” he rests his head onto your shoulder, something twisted and horrible lodged in his throat, tears endless.

it’s raining because of course it’s raining.

“it’s storming pretty bad” jaemin quips, conversationally. “do you not want me to call you a ride?”

you simply allow a small breath to escape your lips, hair tousled as you slip your jacket on through your arms. “nah, the bus works just fine” you say, wiping your hands on your pants despite your much irritation.

“and i’m guessing you don’t want to wait until it’s let up either?”

“i have to get home cause jeno’s working late and— hyuck’s alone, don’t want him to be..” you mutter, glancing down at your watch as you crinkle your nose at the time. “he’s been baking since the whole wonil thing happened, need to make sure he doesn’t burn down the apartment”.

jaemin doesn’t have to put anymore work into convincing you. “alright, have fun”.

you do the typical before leaving checkup, you have your keys, your phone, cash, and a bus pass, good. it’s silent, awkward, not much of a regular conversation when he isn’t bending you over a table.

but there’s something you really need to know.

“hey jaemin?”

“hm?” he doesn’t look up from his phone.

“should we talk about.. this?”

“well talking about it makes it weird”.

you consider your next words very carefully. “i’m lonely, you know”.

jaemin then puts his phone down. “i’m lost”.

you’re unaware of why exactly you feel the need to divulge context about whatever your relationship happens to be, you keep thinking back to donghyuck and you remember the liabilities caused by workplace relationships. you’re afraid you can’t stomach another complicated relationship, situations that wrap around your head in a nauseating fashion. not that jaemin is boyfriend material or anything but—

“the first time we hooked up? in the on-call room? i did it because i just got off a bad breakup and i was stressed and.. you were my first option”.

jaemin remains frozen in his place, gaze pointed, chest perfectly accentuated in his shir— stop looking there y/n. “what i’m trying to say is that i was desperate and it’s important you know that because—“

“get to the point”.

“i don’t want this to.. you know, be more than what it is, like.. domestic and shit”.

“oh jesus, okay y/n” he pinches the bridge of his nose, as if you irritated him. “you’re asking me not to fall in love with you right? you could’ve just said that then”.

“it sounds stupid”.

“and your other option sounded better?”

“whatever, i’m going, good talk”.

“great talk”.

“stop trying to get the last word in”.

“i’m not trying to do anything”.

“goodnight”.

“don’t say things you don’t mean”.

“fine, i hope you have a terrible one, i hope your roof catches on fire and you sleep through it and it all comes crashing onto you so your death is all slow and painful, happy?”

jaemin smiles, waving you off with each of his fingers as you storm out of the door, into the pouring rain, slamming it shut behind you.

you take a short walk and an even shorter bus ride home, yet when you enter your apartment you’re absolutely drenched.

the whole house smells of sugar and semi-baked sweets, it almost reminds you of home, back when you’d fuck shit up with your sisters in the kitchen. the now added on pain is the continuous ringing of the fire alarm, donghyuck standing at the counter fanning smoke with an empty box of brownie mix.

you sigh as you kick off your shoes.

“what the hell did you do?”

“i have it under control” donghyuck whines.

“hyuck—“

“don’t step any closer” he threatens, butter knife in hand.

your hands raise in mock surrender, a flat look sent his way. “you’re being ridiculous”.

“sorry” he puts the knife down, breathing labored. “help me?”

you two sit down on the kitchen floor and have brownies and ice cream for dinner, an ironic feat for a pair of medical professionals, but this is simply one of those things licensed under free will you have as an adult, the kind of thing that makes you think maybe parental supervision is a good need. besides, sugar is good for heartbreak.

“i don’t wanna go to work tomorrow” donghyuck mutters, beginning to consistently tap his head onto the counter, as if attempting to bash his brains out. “this is so stupid”.

“it’ll be fine, i’m sure no one will question you up front”.

he glances upward. “my former sort of boyfriend is fucking the most popular attending neurosurgeon, and people think i was homewrecking whatever the hell they have going, you think people just forget that?”

you lick your spoon clean. “yeah it’s not looking good,” you admit, scratching the back of your head. “but i’m here to help you through it, and samoyed will be there to bark at anyone who looks at you funny”.

donghyuck gives a weak laugh and leans his head onto your shoulder. “yeah yeah, whatever..”

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 5: fuck the domestics, fuck na jaemin.

of course because the universe has a really good sense of humor, mark lee and kim wonil are the first people you and donghyuck see when the elevator dings on the first floor. wonil looks at a loss for words, you’d pride him on such amusement if you weren’t looking to cause him bodily harm.

“uh” mark starts.

“we’re taking the stairs” and since you’re a good friend you do not complain when donghyuck drags you up four flights of stairs.

in his valiant efforts to stay away from neuro, donghyuck gets assigned to obstetrics for the day, whilst you end up back with dr. kim in cardio, which is always a simultaneous blessing and curse. the patient you’re seeing—kiara— has been going back and forth on getting the surgery for a while, and doyoung seemed more than relieved when you showed up with those signed consent forms.

you worked your ass off to get onto this case. you stayed up late all night reading into the procedure, designing a diagram which detailed the surgical process despite the fact that you wouldn’t be carrying it out yourself. observing a complex surgery like this is a rarity for interns, so you intend to soak up every bit of knowledge you can.

so, by design, you’re also standing beside the operating table when her pulse dips, her clutched hand falling dormant in your hold. after the frenzy of orders getting called out and defibrillators charging, there’s nothing but the long, insistent beep of a flatline.

dr. kim calls out the time of death.

realistically, nothing could have been done. she’d waited too long to take the surgery, her vascular walls were weak. it was the best surgeons in the room, and if they couldn’t save her then maybe it was just her time.

you break down in the tunnel despite all of that, you’re sitting on one of the beds against the wall, aware of your own ridiculousness, yet allowing for the tears to brim up anyway.

the only reason kiara was terrified of getting that surgery was because she was afraid of dying on that table, she was scared of dying, and you’d held her hand while they put her under, promising she’d be okay.

that was the mistake.

patient outcomes are never promised, and as much as they remind you, as much as you’re aware that this is in your line of work, death just so happens to spring up on you instantaneously, you can never really fully prepare for it.

“she was going to die anyway” you don’t have to glance up to meet the face behind the voice, simply acquainted with the sight of jaemin’s shoes.

“i know”.

“so why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?”

you sigh, massaging a finger to your temple, your head hurts, it all hurts. “go away” another sob pushes itself up out of your chest, another sniffle, more snot.

but would na jaemin ever genuinely listen to an order? absolutely not. he did not go away, he stepped closer, a hand gracing your shoulder.

your own shoulders slump, you’re completely and utterly disappointed in yourself.

“i don’t need you to say anything,” he breathes. “i’m just telling you that it’s okay..”

“it’s not okay” you seethe. “would you have made the same mistake? would you be in my position if it was you?”

you take everything too personal, you need to start thinking like a surgeon, there’s no room for sensitivity in a field like this, dr. kim had said. he made you break the news to her family, have to watch the washed over expressions and the chorus of sobbing as you attempted to contain your own.

“well i wouldn’t have gotten attached..”

and it sounds so condescending, lowly, superiority reigned over your head. you’ve had a terrible day, and all you can do is sob in your own pity as jaemin just stands there.

it’s so easy to get swallowed up in your pride, tout your pigheadedness in front of jaemin on a regular front with spouted curses and illusions high. you suppose jaemin doesn’t have the best standards for you, you didn’t even do anything, but the fashion of your personality you’d displayed was enough of a case.

“y/n” jaemin calls, soft, you almost don’t hear him. the mattress dips with his added pressure, a hand coming to touch the side of your face, fingertips cold as they tuck strands of your hair behind your ear. jaemin’s hands are always cold. “y/n, hey”.

you don’t respond, can’t do anything but let jaemin pull you against his chest. it’s an odd feeling because it’s the thing you needed from the last person you expected to give it to you. you exhale shakily, closing your eyes and reveling in the prospect of being held.

“you suck at this” you sob, on principle of course.

“hush” jaemin murmurs. he rests his chin atop your head, and he says nothing more, doesn’t even pull away either. you cry until you have no more left to give, your shift isn’t quite over yet, you have charts to finish and labs to read over. you push at jaemin to let you go.

“m’fine” you sniffle, posture straightening as you wiped the tears from your cheeks. you feel reckless, embarrassed, like a child. your face is burning hot, but at least you feel better. jaemin is staring, as if he’s experiencing a certain thing for the first time.

you look away.

“i’m fine” you repeat. “don’t look at me like that”.

jaemin clears his throat as if snapping out of an episode. “i know you don’t care for my opinion, but i think you’re doing great”.

“you what..?”

jaemin nods, doesn’t elaborate on any of it, it’s awkward.

your pager beeps, and once you glance down at the location, you silently curse at the location being half across the hospital.

“right, um thank you, i guess i’ll.. uh, see you later?”

“you know where to find me”.

jeno seeks you out first once your shift is over, apprehensive as always.

“you okay? i heard what happened..”

“yeah m’fine” you pause before the doors to allow jeno to catch you, donghyuck and renjun won’t be done for another hour, and it’s once again pouring outside. “i just need to shower and sleep for fifty hours”.

jeno is already looking at you when you glance over. you’ve heard your fair share of stories concerning surgical failures, much too close to one when in your childhood, but experiencing one firsthand just really took it all out of you.

“i’m going to get better at this surgeon thing right? i have to?” you ask.

“you will” jeno replies, silent. he links your fingers together, a warm feeling. he then nudges you, the slightest bit of comfort in the affection laced gesture. “we both will”.

there’s a small switch flip after that.

jaemin remains jaemin. perfectly polished jaemin, hardened in the face of death, all precise and unphased, yet you lay your heart bare for it all, fortitude at the forefront of your emotions.

occasionally, you find yourself looking over at jaemin when he’s too engrossed in his work or conversation to notice.

when you observe him, you attempt to figure out where the fortitude of his beating organ lies. it appears jaemin acts in kindness when he thinks no one else is looking. you wonder if that’s a true display or if that’s simply another mask he wears around for the hell of it, getting into the sweet spots of littler kids is a spectacular move. then again, it takes a special kind of evil to be mean to kids. sure, jaemin’s a bit of an asshole, but he isn’t all bloods evil.

that isn’t such a hard concept to grasp.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 6: running out of terrifically timed titles

the tumultuous disarray of your life provides solace, somewhat regular sex escapades with jaemin continue and donghyuck is often too tipsy once you get home from your shifts later in the week. you surmise he’s simply coping with his situation in manners he’s accustomed to, though both you and jeno would love to chide him for the unhealthiness, you two also can’t talk, ever since you found that unlimited espresso machine in the second floor cafeteria, it’s basically become your life source. jeno will scold you for that one when he eventually finds out, though it’s good to know jungwoo doesn’t mind, simply passing you with mild apprehension whenever you go grab another cup.

you guess you can’t talk about anything, but you also can’t help worrying about your friend.

“l/n, did you follow up on those scans i asked for?” dr. kim unabashedly ambushes you whilst you’re in the middle of a good speed powered walk, files almost tumbling out of your bundled arms.

“uh— yes, they redid them so they aren’t blurry, and i also put in that psych eval you requested, i have all of them here”.

“nice work, will you be available to scrub in tomorrow morning?”

you blink at him, baffled. “i— oh my god yes, thank you um..” you honestly didn’t expect that one after the prior incident with kiara. you assumed for sure doyoung would stand between you and the O.R for a couple of months.

“is there a reason you’re still standing in front of me?”

you blush, embarrassed. “i’m sorry i just.. i know you don’t think i’m cut out for this so I’m unsure of why you chose me”.

for a slim moment, there’s genuine in doyoung’s eyes. “well i’ll have you know opinions can change, will you move out of my way now”.

you pause. “of course, sorry, thank you, i appreciate it”.

“you’d better” he beams, placing yet another stack in your arms. “could you drop these off at the nurses station for me?”

you make your way back downstairs, still reeling from the previous words said to your face, when you hear a familiar voice.

“is dr l/n here? well, no— he’s an intern”.

you look up from the nurses station immediately, catching a glimpse of osaki shotaro’s identifiable tuft of hair, golden blonde, still dyed. he hasn’t changed since you last saw him, well you suppose a few months really don’t provide anything substantial in the area of change.

“taro?”

when he glances up, he breaks into one of his bright smiles and he parts (hyperbole) the hallway to get to you. “y/n, hey, hi”.

“what— what are you doing here? is everything okay? is your mom oka—“

“i’m fine, everyone’s fine it’s just.. i mean— i don’t know actually i was just nearby and i wanted to see you? i know i’m the one who broke up with you and all but i was sure there was a high chance you’d be here instead of.. well anywhere else”.

“yeah” you laugh. “yeah that is true”.

“it’s nice to see you” he fiddles with his bracelet, reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, a natural habit, you grab onto his wrist before his fingers can grace your skin. shotaro pauses for a moment, cheeks colored pink in embarrassment as he slips from your hold.

“sorry— i um.. can we just talk actually?”

your face warms rather quickly. “uh..”

“oh hello” jaemin appears—literally out of nowhere—“are you here for a patient?”

“no actually he was just leaving—“

“i’m shotaro” he tilts his head to read jaemin’s id card. “you’re.. dr na?” he extends his hand for a handshake, jaemin ignores it. you almost want to tell him off for such a thing.

“yes, you must be the boyfriend”.

“ex boyfriend” you both say.

jaemin inhales a bated breath, handing you a stack of files. “jungwoo said to give these to you, the chief needs all the records manually inputted before you get off your shift today”.

“but—“

“we’re all splitting work, that’s your stack and this is mine”.

“i’m supposed to be having lunch” you frown.

jaemin shrugs, nothing of helpful. “do them after, i don’t care, i’m just the messenger”.

“it was nice meeting you”.

“sure” jaemin flashes a noncommittal smile, then, as quick as he came, he’s gone.

“is he always like that?” shotaro inquires, you sigh, much loudly.

“yeah, kind of, at first glance..”

“so lunch! can i treat you?”

you chuckle. “well i can’t leave so i hope you don’t mind hospital food”.

it’s (surprisingly) a very enjoyable experience for you.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 7: coupling 1000

on tuesday, lee jeno walks into the locker room looking slightly askew, yet completely elated, brightened in some unusual fashion.

you let out a low whistle. “now what the fuck has you so happy?”

“nothing”.

“is it a guy?”

“no!” jeno refutes, the bright red hue paired with the shrill squeaked ‘no’ do naught for his argument. “it’s not that”.

“you have that after guy glow”.

“you’re insane”.

“he’s right though” jaemin wraps an inviting arm around his shoulder, jeno full on pouts. “you look awfully stunning this morning, jeno”.

“fuck?”

“you’re okay”.

“damn, why’s it feel like every intern in this hospital is getting some but me?” donghyuck grouches, you instantly share a look with renjun.

at the inevitable silence, donghyuck groans again. “don’t answer that”.

“yeah cause you’d only be told the obvio—“

“good morning~” kim jungwoo sings, much too delighted for the time of day. “glad to see all of you interns actually in on time, l/n and na you’ll be helping mark prep his patient, zhong and lee one you’ll be in the pit, and.. huang and lee two on charts, any complaints? wonderful! get going!”

mark lee has the discontented mannerisms of a teenage boy, awkward stutters and all, you often neglect to recall that he’s a revered surgeon prided for performing some of the best brain operations in the country, technically your boss.

you haven’t spent much time around him, you actively avoid kim wonil for the sake of donghyuck’s (and your own) sanity, looking into the eyes of mark lee, he appears bashful, shyly boyish in a manner akin to a formerly stranger lee jeno.

“guess he’s still avoidant”.

you snort, jaemin sucks his teeth, you then sigh with your tongue prodding at the side of your cheek. “well he can’t look at you without thinking about..”

now that you think about it, you’ve never really had a conversation with kim wonil, what’s even with the guy?

“oh” his face drops in that distinct kicked puppy fashion, you merely sigh.

“just give him space, okay? he’ll surely come around”.

“space.. really?”

“space is good” jaemin chimes in. “and either way he’s not your intern, we are, can we go now?”

he’s always been ever so impatient.

yang jungwon is a twenty year old college student with a tumor pressing down on his frontal temporal lobe. “it’s affecting his impulse control,” mark warns. “so if he says something a bit forward, that’s why”.

“forward?” you question.

when mark, you and jaemin walk into jungwon’s room, his mother is sitting beside his bed, smoothing over his sheets with her hands. mark bids them good morning and introduces you two as the interns which will be overseeing the surgery, the first thing jungwon says is:

“jesus you all are hot, is that requirement here? why are you all so hot? are there more of you?”

“jungwon” his mother softly chides.

forward, you hum, jaemin only makes an agreeing noise beside you.

“sorry, was that rude? i’m very sorry”.

“he’s usually shy” his mother explains. “he doesn’t mean to be offensive”.

“no offense taken ma’am, that’s probably the nicest thing a patient has said to us in a while” mark replies. “how are you feeling won?”

“my mom’s nervous so now i’m nervous and the food here sucks by the way, i don’t really wanna have brain surgery but i have to be optimistic so yay!”

“that’s the spirit!” mark cheers. “okay, dr. l/n here is gonna run a couple of tests to make sure everything is okay, dr. na will handle all the paperwork, if you still want to proceed i can have you scheduled for O.R two bright and early tomorrow morning, i’ll make sure everything goes smoothly for you okay?”

“can i get snacks from the vending machine to make it go smoother?”

“i’ll do it” his mother offers. “don’t give dr. l/n a hard time, okay?”

mark leaves with jaemin and mrs. yang to grab snacks and necessary consent forms, you begin putting on your gloves to give jungwon a routine examination.

“dr. l/n can i ask you a question?” jungwon asks.

you remove the stethoscope from your ears, giving him a small smile. “go ahead, i’m all ears”.

“well it’s more of a personal question” he twiddles his thumbs, smile stretched widely as he tilts his head towards you. “are you two like.. together?”

“me and who?”

“the other, other hot doctor with all the teeth, the one who was in here just now”.

“me and.. na?”

“yeah, is he your boyfriend? he was looking like he wanted to eat you, i was honestly getting worried by how intense he was staring”.

that shocks a fit of laughter out of you. “no no, he wasn’t—he’s.. he’s not my boyfriend”.

“oh okay, well if nobody’s told you yet then i’m a hundred percent sure he wants to jump your bones, and also be your boyfriend”.

you clear your throat, flustered by jungwon’s sense of earnesty. “we’re not together, just coworkers”.

“do you have a boyfriend?”

you sigh and lean forward, pressing two fingers on either side of his neck to feel for a carotid pulse. “you’ve said the word boyfriend an awful lot in these past few minutes,” you pause. “no i don’t”.

“okay” jungwon says. “this is going to sound a bit presumptuous, but if i survive the surgery, will you go out with me?”

you skillfully sidestep such a question. “that’s not presumptuous, dr. lee is one of the best brain surgeons in the country, he’s going to make sure you come out just fine, your most likely outcome is positive”.

jungwon stops, blinking up at you, galaxies in his pupils. “i think we might be soulmates”.

“yang jungwon”.

“that’s me”.

“you’re cute, and sweet, and funny— but i absolutely cannot go out with you”.

“is it the brain damage thing? i’ve been told that’s a dealbreaker”.

“don’t be cheeky, how old are you again? twenty?”

“twenty going on twenty five”.

you laugh. “you have your whole life ahead of you to find a soulmate, people don’t really have a good time dating me, you’ll be dodging a bullet”.

“what, why not?”

“won—can i call you won?”

“you can call me anything you want..”

“won” you stress, “i spend about eighty hours a week in this hospital, i barely have time to eat or sleep or even think about anything that doesn’t include cutting someone open, my last boyfriend dumped me for that reason, i couldn’t do that again, and i definitely don’t think you want to”.

“ah i see” jungwon says, he’s silent for a while before he asks: “you’re saying it would make sense for you to date someone who works as much as you do, like another doctor, right?”

“well that wasn’t the point but i guess that makes sense then”.

jungwon smiles as if he’s figured out something. “so do you like dr. na then?”

“dr. na is standing right there” jaemin chimes in. you two both turn to see him standing in the doorway, “i have consent forms, i already went over the procedure with your mom, i’m aware mark probably covered it with you, but if it would make you more comfortable i could go over it with you myself”.

both you and jungwon stare at him.

“what?”

“is he always like this?”

you smile in his direction, giggling as you ruffle his hair. “yeah”.

“didn’t peg you as the type to flirt with patients” jaemin utters later in the nurse station whilst you two idle around in feigned ignorance as if you don’t have mountains of work weighing on your shoulders. jungwon had personally asked for you to scrub in on his surgery, and it’s clear jaemin was just the slightest bit envious, you would be too if in his shoes. mark’s surgeries are always the most fun to watch.

“i wasn’t flirting, he was simply asking invasive questions so i entertained him, he’s a nice kid, it’s called having good bedside manners”.

“are you saying i don’t have good bedside manner?”

“your words, not mine”.

“i don’t care, you were definitely flirting back”.

“i thought you didn’t care?”

“i don’t”.

“well there’s your answer”.

jungwon comes out just fine, you and jaemin however, you take a while to recover.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 8: well i guess he’s fine..

at the end of the week you typically only prefer to gorge on the junk food remained tucked in your refrigerator and embrace the warmth of your bed, but everybody knows you don’t always get the things you want, especially you in your kicked rock of a life.

“are you ready?” renjun bounces on his heels, changed out of his scrubs already, breathing down your neck in an effort to fasten your process of changing.

“what are you all doing tonight?” jaemin inquires, suddenly nosy.

“well i wanted to go home to eat ice cream then sleep all night, but since it’s the last wednesday of the month and we have tomorrow off renjun wants to go do karaoke at the local bar”.

“it’s kind of our tradition!” jeno offers, he’s sat down on one of the benches, lacing up his dunks. “you should come with us, drinks are half off until midnight”.

“you should come! it’ll be so fun, y/n has the voice of an angel”.

your cheeks color red in embarrassment. “well actually—“

“stop trying to be humble now, just admit it” renjun then turns to jaemin. “please? you literally never hang out with us”.

you can’t see renjun’s face, but you know he’s using that pleading puppy look to sell his point.

you watch jaemin crumble in real time.

“alright, guess it couldn’t hurt”.

what hurts is your throat after demolishing a flurry of early 2000s hits. now your ears are beginning to pain as renjun, donghyuck and chenle go head to head, they’ve rapped to super bass three times in a row, and donghyuck continuously doubles over in laughter whenever chenle messes up a single lyric. you aren’t complaining though, this is about the happiest you’ve seen donghyuck in the week, it makes you feel all warm seeing him laughing and all full of bashful insults.

jaemin has been nursing the same beer since you’ve arrived, tucked away on the couch in an effort to not participate in such nonsense. it dawns on you that you normally don’t hang out with him outside of the hospital much, and you wonder if he even has friends outside the hospital.

before you stop yourself, you’re wriggling out of jeno’s lap and making your way over to jaemin. he looks over when you get close, eyes traveling from the loose neckline of your shirt to your face.

“hiii”, you greet.

“hello, you’re drunk”.

“just a little” you giggle, hiccuping on nothing. “you look all moody and broody in the shadows, are you not having fun?”

“i am, you guys are just..” jaemin pauses, again glancing back at the scene before seemingly taking back a few words. “i am”.

you hum, whistling in the air. “i need some fresh air, come with me?”

jaemin nods, following behind you in the manner of a shadow out of the establishment. you two end up sitting on the sidewalk, chilling air offering you solace as you attempt to sober up.

it’s chillier than it was before, but you bask in the cold instead, short sleeves acting as nothing of a barrier.

“that was quite the performance back there” jaemin says quietly.

“thank you, yeah i can’t compare to donghyuck but singing is.. you know, just a hobby”.

you shiver offhandedly, jaemin observes for a while before offering you over his jacket, caging it around you in his lingering warmth. you yearn to comment on it, he practically dares you to, so you take it in silence.

“you know what would be amazing? a hot spicy bowl of kimchi jjigae”.

it’s been a while since you’ve been able to cook a genuine meal, the shifts take it all out of you and turning on any kitchen appliances gives you anxiety after a long shift. eating is a whole shove and go sort of a thing, you don’t pay much mind to it anymore. “now why would you put that in my head? i’m hungry” you whine.

“i know a good spot near the hospital, their stuff is like home”.

you ignore the mention of home.

“you’re just making it worse”.

“sorry” jaemin is not sorry. “maybe we can go together after work sometimes”.

“oh, like with the other interns? that’d be nice..”

jaemin looks caught, he swallows down nothing. “no i mean.. just us”.

you freeze. “oh”.

“what? having sex with me is okay but dinner is completely out of the question?”

“no” you reply defensively. “it’s just— us, you know? we can’t even go a few words without arguing, we don’t do dinner, the only thing we have in common is that we’re stuck up surgeons, we don’t do dinner”.

jaemin presses his lips into a flat line, the kind of thing he does when he’s looking for something nice to say. “we’re friends”.

you almost lurch forward, perhaps drinking was not a good idea. you blink, completely knowing of your upcoming decision.

“you know what? yeah, let’s get dinner”.

“right now?”

“no time like the present!” you shout, holding your hand out for jaemin as you rise from the sidewalk. he takes it, intertwining your fingers as you haul him off the ground,

“what about the others?”

“they’ll be fine” you excuse. “come on”.

you realize belatedly that it’s about midnight, which means most, if not all restaurants serving kimchi jjigae are closed. you two end up at the popular twenty four hour ramen spot instead, and you take time to sober up as you two wait in line. hanging off jaemin’s arm, you simply allow your head to lean against his shoulder, the other making no room for little complaints, you’ll regret being all clingy in the morning, but for now, it’s all up in the air. the waitress who seats you eyes you in that knowing way, she thinks you two are a couple, you decide to not correct her, there’s no benefit, she ensures a comment about how cute you two are.

“first thing i want to do after getting my license is..” jaemin begins. “treat the uppers at one of these places, like a celebratory dinner”.

“ramen for surgeons?”

“basically”.

you hum, tongue hot, all warm. “you wanna split this with me?” you inquire, referring to the takoyaki before you on a plate.

“can you even eat all that?” jaemin poses, clicking his tongue as he eyes the spread of appetizers. you aren’t a quitter, especially after a week of subpar meals you didn’t even bother turning on the stove to create. you raise your plate in his direction, offering a takoyaki ball which he takes a stab at.

“have you always wanted to be a surgeon?”

jaemin sighs. “we don’t have to do this”.

“do what?”

“the thing where we ask each other questions and pretend to care about the answers”.

“i do care” you press. “aren’t we friends? answer the question, minjae”.

“is that supposed to be a nickname?” jaemin grumbles. you’ve always had a knack for nicknames, jeno your main victim. “it sucks”.

“answer the question”.

he sighs again, but this time he’s smiling. “i mean, guess i always had the feeling, i was obsessed with that surgeon game when i was younger, i would sneak into my dad’s office and read up on all of his procedures, i read a lot of his stupid textbooks and was hooked forever”.

“oh”.

“yeah”.

“well it probably helped your family’s full of doctors huh?”

he pauses. “not really”.

you stop for a moment. “your dad is na kiwoo, he’s crazy good at his shit, he invented a whole new way to transplant bone marrow! your uncle is literally the chief of surgery at the hospital we intern at!”

you probably appear nerdy, you scratch the back of your ear, somewhat embarrassed. jaemin stares, clearing his throat. “my parents didn’t want me to become a surgeon”.

you are absolutely gobsmacked, jaemin goes through the effort of physically putting your jaw back in its place. “seriously?”

“absolutely, they did everything to make sure i wouldn’t get into the medical field, wanted me to get some bullshit sports scholarship, they refused to pay my tuition and basically said i ruined their dreams of having an olympian son so i went no contact”.

you scoff. “god”.

“right” he grins, though there’s little genuine. “i tried so hard to get into any program that didn’t have to do with guleum but look where i ended up”.

you blink as you attempt to process the influx of information. “but you’re destined for greatness— you’re your parents’ legacy”.

he dismissively waves. “it would be great if they cared, they have their noses buried in their work, can’t believe they thought i wouldn’t take it personal”.

“you’re still mad?”

“what do you think?”

and then he chuckles. you deliver a small smack to his shoulder, along the lines of an affectionate gesture. “they’re dickheads, you’re gonna be one of the best surgeons in the world, besides me”.

jaemin is now the one who’s surprised. “did you just compliment me?”

“hm.. think you’re hearing things”.

“sure” he stops. “so what about you, then? what got you into this program?”

your nose scrunches. “my sister, she always had complications growing up but she had to get a lobectomy when she was young because she had a tumor, after that she couldn’t talk for a while, we spent a lot of time at the hospital so that’s where the interest came from”.

“i didn’t know you had a sister”.

well you didn’t exactly care. “i have three, never a moment of peace”.

“oh i bet”.

your expression falters for a moment. “dad and mom didn’t want me to, get into the medical field that is, they thought i couldn’t do it, said it was a future depicted in failure and that i’d quit at the first loud shout”.

“you? quit?”

he appears genuinely shocked by such a revelation. “are you surprised?”

“kinda” he mutters, opting to glance directly at you. “you’ve always been so persevering, can’t imagine you quitting anything”.

you shrug. “they weren’t around much, i had to kinda fend for myself with three girls running around”.

“well you did it didn’t you?”

“yeah, all those my little pony reruns and sugar cookies” you muse, shaking your head. “i should not know as much as i do about that show”.

jaemin laughs at that one, and you can’t help the pride which swells in your chest. you belatedly realize that you’re enjoying this conversation, you two haven’t had a petty fight in a while, go figure.

“you aren’t that bad”.

“surprise”.

“so why are you so hellbent on proving it then?”

“preconceived notions go a long way, people hear my last name and think seven thousand different things, it gets tiring trying to prove them wrong, i don’t care anymore”.

but if his voice is anything, then he definitely does still care.

“okay so how exactly do you plan on getting home?” he inquires to you, leftover bags swinging in the light wind.

“the night bus”.

“you don’t drive?”

“i would kill myself” you blurt, and jaemin snorts. “don’t laugh, highways are terrifying, besides, the bus is empty at this time”.

“do they really run now?”

you stare flatly. “of course they do, i memorized the running hours”.

he has half a mind to giggle at that one, you then grab onto jaemin’s hand as you drag him towards the nearest bus stop.

your building lights remain blindingly bright once you finally reach your stop, jaemin following behind you in the fashion he always does.

“you really didn’t have to walk me”.

“i needed to make sure you’re in safely” he emphasizes, as if that makes any sense, he opts for an eye roll to sell the stubborn bit.

“aww, what a gentlemen you are minjae”.

he grumbles at the nickname, though his smile threatens to jump up at every glance.

for the first time since you and jaemin eloped, you take a glance at your watch, shocked at it being half past two already. “don’t you have work today? why didn’t you say anything?”

jaemin shrugs, flatly, very jaemin. “you guys were having fun, my shift’s at noon, it’s fine”.

“okay well, goodnight?”

“goodnight,” jaemin replies, and he leans forward for a peck, it’s short and sweet, by the time he’s done, you realize all too late, cheeks gone red as you instead blink.

“uh” you begin, very intelligent y/n, stellar. “that was.. um—“

“you okay?”

“no! i mean— yes i just, that was nice it was nice..” you exhale, “can i have another one?”

jaemin gives in, cupping your cheeks and drawing you in for another kiss. it shouldn’t go on for as long as it does, but you’re much too embarrassing to admit such a thing, instead you let him do it again, and again, and again, all soft against your lips.

“we probably shouldn’t do that again because..” your lips attempt to twitch up, you try to fasten that sincere expression on your features. “well you know—“

“right, no domestic shit” jaemin smiles, all teeth, so cocky.

you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a smile, turning towards the entrance in order to hide it. “goodnight”.

“goodnight” jaemin lingers for a moment, as if he wants to say something more. however, it appears he changes his mind once you glance back at him, he mirrors your turn back and begins walking off.

it’s not until you put the leftovers away and begin undressing for your shower that you realize you forgot to return him his jacket.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 9: the crush-not-crush phase

jaemin does the friend thing exceptionally well, he relays obscure anecdotes that you giggle at and sneaks in slight jabs when doyoung’s in the middle of an important sentence that has you nudging him in the stomach with your arm.

like right now, he’s droning on about a moment when a nanny almost burned down his parents house whilst trying to cook for him and you’re very much interested, sneaking snorts under your breath.

renjun, jeno and donghyuck all arrive, tapping you on your shoulder, you turn to glance with the slightest confusion.

there isn’t an exchange of words, they simply observe jaemin until he smiles, making up a story about having to go check up on a patient.

they all silently watch him leave.

“why’d you scare him off?” you complain, almost tapering off into whining territory.

“i just want to know what’s up with you two” renjun finally says.

you groan, donghyuck pushes as he takes a seat beside you. “we are not having this conversation again”.

“is he your friend? your boyfriend? an eight month conquest? your shotaro replacement?”

“why does everyone think we’re dating—“

“i ran into him when he was leaving your room this morning” jeno drawls, flat, irritated in that soft way he always is. “i’m about to ask him to start pitching in on the water bill”.

“he’s not over that often”.

your argument falls flat at donghyuck’s eyebrow raise. “he has been this month, do you like him?”

“okay— i hook up with him a few times doesn’t mean i like him”.

“you two keep sneaking off every time we hang out, you basically made him our new pseudo roommate and you were doing that thing you do when you like someone”.

“what thing?”

“you get all giggly and playfully mean—“ donghyuck tucks his hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes, squealing in what you suppose is a high pitched imitation of your voice; “oh jaemin you’re sooo funny!”

you land a punch, neither renjun or jeno reach to stop your action despite donghyuck’s extensive complaints.

“i’m not— it doesn’t matter, how could i like jaemin? he’s a fucking shark, do you not remember what he did to me in my our first month?”

renjun glances around, as if searching around for a better excuse you could tout. “your point?”

“i don’t like him, i’m not dating him, it’s all for sex”.

“how long has this been going on again?”

you wrack your mind for an answer. “we started right after i got dumped so.. around late august?”

“oh my god” donghyuck says, his eyes blown out dramatically. “you’ve been sleeping with na jaemin for THREE MONTHS!?”

you decide to assault him again. “can you not be so loud?”

“and you haven’t killed him yet? ew, you do like him”.

“i don’t— what does—“

“oh you totally do! holy shit, is the dick that good!?”

when you take a liberal pause, renjun immediately crinkles his nose. “don’t actually answer that”.

“i wasn’t going to”.

“you were having sex flashbacks!”

“was not, get over yourself” you snark.

donghyuck looks one mouth opening away from speaking when mark lee suddenly shows up, plopping himself at your table. “is this seat taken?”

“yes!” you and renjun yell in unison.

donghyuck clears his throat. “actually, you were just leaving weren’t you?”

“we were?” you ask dumbly, donghyuck nods, tipping his head towards the door.

oh, you realize what he’s trying to do.

“right” you begin slowly. “just leaving, just going”.

“me too” adds renjun.

“i haven’t finished my sandwich yet..” jeno pouts, and renjun sighs as he grabs ahold of his collar, dragging him away from the lunch table where you’ll leave mark and donghyuck alone. “c’mon, they have something to fix”.

when you enter the kitchen the following saturday, donghyuck offers you a mere glance from his book before sighing. “jaemin’s?”

“yep” you pop the p, crouching down as you open the fridge, offering a squint as if your aid will magically appear given your gaze. “are we out of grapes?”

“jeno ate em all, why?”

“nothing, guess i’ll just starve”.

“are you gonna sleep over?”

“i don’t know..”

“sounds close to a yes”.

you glare, donghyuck chuckles.

“practice safe sex youngling!”

you flip him off, he offers you a kiss instead. “sure”.

“enjoy your weekend off!”

you pause before the door and turn back to give him a look, itching to ask a question you’re aware doesn’t have a definite enough answer. “so.. is everything good between you and mark now?”

“i’m working on it” he says, “just working on it”.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 10: blurring the line just a bit

you stumble into jaemin’s room and fall into his bed with your legs tangled. you feel warmth encapsulate you instantly. there’s lightheadedness, as if you’re drunk, intoxicated by the familiar scent of simply jaemin. his hair is in his eyes, yet for a long moment he simply stares. you doubt there’s a definitive way your imperfections could be glimpsed at in the vague orange lamplight, a small frown tugs at your lips.

“what?” you whisper, tentative.

“nothing” jaemin replies, equally silent. “it’s just— you’re just.. you look pretty like this”.

you blank for a moment, brightening yet attempting to shove it downward, reddened. “good, thought you were about to change your mind”.

“hush”.

when jaemin leans down to kiss you it’s soft, and your brain does that stupid malfunction thing once again, you sort of don’t know what to do with it. it’s syrup slow, the way jaemin licks into your mouth and his fingers trail up underneath your shirt, like you two have all the time in the world. you take in a long breath, tugging impatiently at his shirt which acts as a hurdle for you. he chuckles, you feel his smile against your own growing one.

you frown, such an expression heartens jaemin to no end. he’s torturing you, pressing slow soft presses against your soft skin, each press marked by his growing smile as he drags his mouth across each particular edge, exponentially leisure, nothing of vigor and more of attention to specific details. you squirm gradually, jaemin digs the pads of his fingers into your hips to hold you still in place, there’s a gentle edge to it that makes your head spin.

“hey” you tug at jaemin’s hair, and when he glances up at you there’s that huge urge to punch him, or maybe kiss him, do a crazy combination with the grin he’s sporting. “could you— fuck speed it up”.

“don’t you rush me y/n” he drawls, blinking up at you through his terribly beautiful eyelashes. “today is special”.

“it can be special when you get to it”.

“so bossy, maybe you should be in control then”.

despite his clear amusement, lingering insults on his tongue, jaemin again leans down to kiss you. it seems he enjoys that aspect, you don’t let go of his hair, hand on the back of his neck pressing him closer. it’s a good kiss, the slightest bit scary to you. you think you could get used to this, get accustomed to the sight of his dirty blonde hair and his hands pressing into the skin of your hip, possibly leaving marks.

it seems a little scary, but it also seems.. well, it makes you have all those mushy feelings you shouldn’t be having, feelings you’d have a heart attack at having three months ago.

you suppose you are blurring the lines a bit here, teeth ground and face buried into his neck, as if you were attempting to crawl into his skin. jaemin holds you and talks you through it like a lover would, it does terrible things to you, terrible terrible thoughts swirling around in your brain.

in the morning, you awake alone. you lie there for a moment, sunlight peeking through the curtains, then you allow your head to fall once more, taking in a deep breath which inadvertently means you’re smelling jaemin’s pillow. you shake your head instantly at such a thought, it’s really all over for you.

you settle for a moment before finally rising from your place, more of rolling off jaemin’s bed and almost breaking your bones with the fall on the floor.

you go through the motions, brushing your teeth and attempting to fix your hair, eventually just leaving it half done. you then venture into jaemin’s closet, grabbing at a random black hoodie and pulling it over your head.

you hear a commotion, head whipping in the direction of the door. you blink, poking your head out of the bedroom door. “jaemin?”

“i’m fine, it’s all fine! nothings burning down”.

you shuffle your way out of his room, feet mute against his bare floor. jaemin has his back to you, in nothing but a practically see through white shirt. “what’s this?”

“breakfast” he muses, eyes seemingly jumping when he catches a glimpse of you.

you lean over his shoulder, nosy as ever, his face is flat. “what?”

jaemin squints. “do you not like pancakes?”

“what kind of question is that? everyone likes pancakes” you reply, breakfast is one of the most foreign meals to you, you haven’t had an actual real breakfast meal in a startling while. “i thought you didn’t like strawberries”.

“they’re not for me” he says, nose scrunched. he uses a fork to cut up the pieces, getting an equal amount of each ingredient before holding it up to your face. “open up”.

“i know how to use a fork myself, you know”.

“open up”.

you drop your mouth open and allow jaemin to feed you, he observes you eat like a hawk. “good?”

you nod enthusiastically.

jaemin smiles, a real, toothless smile that blossoms alluringly over his features. “alright, eat breakfast, then we can go back to sleep”.

you pause, chewing. “i could’ve helped make breakfast”.

“well i didn’t want to wake you” you’re unaware of when he got closer, you opt to not question it, simply allowing his arms to circle around your waist and for him to kiss you once again. his presses are slow, lazy, warm, his sigh in tandem with him pushing you up against the counter.

“can’t i eat?”

“you look good”.

“my hair looks like shit..” you mumble, in response he ruffles it, which earns a grunt as you attempt to escape his hand by leaning backward. “and you just ruined it again”.

“i didn’t do anything” he’s got that smile on again, the one without his teeth, you found you enjoy capturing glimpses of that one much more than you’d ever gloat. “now eat, lord knows how long it’s been since you’ve had breakfast”.

he makes it up to you by helping you wash your hair in the shower, practically putting you to sleep with his ministrations, hand motions paired with a warm stream of water a dealing blow. he lets you do the same for him, sneaking in kisses between rinses to make your time a bit more difficult, water flicked your way resulting in slight squeaks. you spend the afternoon on the couch, bickering over what to watch before eventually settling on a drama you’d been recommended, cuddling closely, though napping quickly overtakes you. jaemin is heavy against your chest, and when you wake up past sunset, there’s a noticeable cramp in your arm, yet it’s the happiest you’ve felt in years.

it’s no wonder things change after that.

you see jaemin in the hallways of the hospital, messy hair paired with eye bags and your heart starts beating erratically. it remains in such fastened motions whenever he sends you a smile at lunch, or when you’re around the rest of your friends and can’t help but just.. stare. your chest warms inexplicably whenever he purposely bumps into you in the locker room or leans against you once he’s worn out, in the manner of a mind reader who knows what exactly such things to do your weak heart.

you’re still hooking up, obviously, but it’s become so ridiculously domestic that you’re unaware of when such lines began blurring.

jaemin brings you coffee, placing it atop the nurses station and patiently awaiting your response, smile akin to a cat bringing their owner a dead rodent as a gift.

you blink at it, then up at him, smiles all high. you recognize the doodles on the cup as from the cafe down the street, yet your mind is still the slightest bit woozy from a frankly terrible three hour sleep. “what’s this?”

“a little pick me up” he replies. “can’t just keep throwing back espresso shots, that’s unhealthy”.

how jaemin even figured that out is something you neglect to mention, you presume he’s some sort of alien mind reader, completely inhumane. you would’ve bitten back with a snarky remark a few months ago, yet it appears your mind is full of gray static now. you shake your head and go back to reading over the patient notes.

“i can’t drink that”.

“it’s your order” he drawls, and your eyes again shoot up.

“what.. uh— shit”.

jaemin pokes at your shoulder, sliding the cup over and encouraging you to take a sip. you’d argue with him, if you could with how he’s staring.

he was right, it is.

“how’d you even..?”

“i have my ways,” he brightens.

“thank you” you whisper.

“it’s nothing” he leans in to dart a kiss to your temple. “take it easy, okay?”

and your world successfully tilts on its own axis, you really need a word for that one.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 11: desperate times desperate looking man

“i feel like i haven’t seen you in ages,” renjun whispers. you’re sneaking into the NICU between patients, like you typically do when swallowed with work. the tiny preemie babies are so cute, they’re simply giving it their all to survive, it encourages you to keep going in the slightest bit. also did you mention they’re absolutely adorable?

“are you finally moving out? are you taking jeno with you? am i free?”

“i’m not leaving, stop trying to divorce me” you say, smacking donghyuck’s shoulder in retaliation to such words. “has jaemin been acting any weird around you?”

“you mean like— weirder than normal?” donghyuck raises an eyebrow, renjun distracted by cooing at the sleeping NICU babies. you always wondered the extent of dreams infants have, constantly intrigued by such a thing.

“no not really” he replies, nudging renjun slightly in an effort to get him back on track. the older startles out of his admiring daze, blinking in your direction.

“jaemin? jaemin’s always been weird, why are you asking?”

“i don’t know he’s acting.. different, i’m a little worried”.

“different how?” renjun does his award winning judgmental gaze, amping up your consciousness.

“well you know how i slept over at his place last weekend—“

“and spared me the ear bleeding noises yes”.

“shut up, this morning he got me coffee before rounds started, he kissed me and told me to take it easy, since when has jaemin cared about that?”

renjun and donghyuck exchange one mere glance before the latter speaks up; “you know what that sounds like? i think you sucked and fucked your way into a relationship”.

“don’t swear in front of the babies!”

“and don’t ever say sucked and fucked again” renjun glares, nose crinkling in disgust.

donghyuck sucks his teeth, though ignoring renjun’s distinct complaint. “seriously y/n, if you can’t see with your huge fucking eyes that jaemin has something for you, that might be a huge problem”.

your arms drop at their sides, readying up some terrible rebuttal when your pager goes off, you immediately sigh once jaemin’s name pops up. “speak of the devil” you muse.

when you walk into the E.R you spot him immediately.

“hey, what’s up?”

“just need you to come look at something for me” he immediately says. “i have a theory, but i need a second opinion”.

a smug smile creeps onto your face. “are you asking me for a consultation right now?”

he rolls his eyes. “don’t act coy, there’s a lady with glitter glue in her ears, you seriously have to see this”.

you let him lead the way.

it’s eerily quiet in the intern locker when you walk in to grab your phone, one single being in the room, that of na jaemin, lying back on one of the benches, leg propped up. once he catches sight of you, he sits up.

“hey”.

“hi” you reply.

“out or in?”

“out, apparently i hit my eighty hours for the week, jungwoo cut me off”.

“that sucks, i’m on call tonight”.

“that does suck” you hum, shoving your phone in your bag as you eye the suspicious way his leg is propped up. “what’s up with your leg?”

“nothing, it’s just— my knees a little sore, that’s all”.

you frown slightly. “let me see”.

“you know i’m an adult, right? i can take care of myself”.

“hush” you respond, flatly staring as jaemin sits back on the bench, allowing you to poke at the wrap around his knee.

“it’s an old injury” he says. “it’s supposed to be fully healed but it still troubles me sometimes”.

your mouth drops open in a silent ‘ah’, “speed skating, right”.

“yeah, i was just telling choi about it, i don’t know why everyone is so surprised i used to speed skate”.

“you’ve been telling everyone about your secret past? i don’t feel special anymore, na jaemin” you tease. you sit up on the bench, satisfied jaemin wasn’t lying about wrapping it up properly. you’re supposed to go meet your family after this, but you don’t want to leave jaemin’s side just yet, call it obsession.

“relax” jaemin drawls, giving you a salacious wink. “they all know i only have eyes for you”.

you ignore the heat rising in your ears. jaemin has been much more forward with his advances lately, unabashed, little shame, which reminds you—“everyone thinks we’re dating, you know? you’re fueling the fire”.

“you know i don’t care what people think of me”.

liar.

“well i care” you answer. “about us, about.. uh— well, people always talk, you know? makes me anxious”.

“you sure you want me to stop flirting with you? really?”

“yes” you have an airy undertone lacing your voice, eyes sliding towards jaemin’s mouth, you realize lately that all you want to do is kiss him. you’re about fully prepared to when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“you got somewhere to be?”

you shoot off a text to your younger sister to assure her that you will indeed not be late. you meet jaemin’s eyes and hesitate for a moment, though you’re unsure of why. “yes actually i have a reunion, well— not exactly a reunion but my parents want me to come home for some reason, probably gonna try to set me back up with my ex like they do every single time..”

there’s a small shift in his expression. “oh? didn’t they try to do that last week? or was that something else?”

“shotaro offered last week and i couldn’t turn him down, they’re trying to push me back to another ex”.

“ah”.

you pick up your bag and stand to head out of the door.

“i promised my sisters i wouldn’t be late, can’t leave them alone at home, if they make anything good i’ll bring around leftovers” you look over your shoulder. “text me when you get home?”

jaemin neglects to respond, you squint as you look at him.

“jaemin?”

“what? oh yeah, yeah, i’ll text you”.

jaemin does not end up texting.

you’re aware of that because you continuously glance over at your phone whilst your parents mutter on their meticulous jargon, sneaking in less than vague insults pertaining to your character. you keep checking for some sort of ping, a rogue emoji or videos of his cats that he enjoys sending so much. you only get texts from donghyuck asking what kind of pasta noodles he should buy for dinner, nothing else.

“are we boring you?” your youngest sister inquires, her head leaning against her head as she takes liberal glances towards your own phone.

you sheepishly put your phone away, you have no idea what anybody has been droning on about for the past few minutes, and you’re much too embarrassed to ask. “sorry no, please continue”.

later, you get home and crawl into your sheets, swiping the notification bar one last time to see if jaemin sent anything. disappointment. you tossed and turned for a moment, uncomfortable in the air of your room. it’s late, jaemin clearly had a long day and crashed as soon as he got home. he isn’t obligated to text you everyday, especially when you’re both equally busy in your own right. nevertheless, you briefly entertain the idea of showing up at his place just to see how he’ll react.

that would be crazy, you freak, is what your inner conscious speaks. he’s not your boyfriend or anything.

you do wish jaemin were here, though, he warms your presence in just the slightest.

you get up one last time, grabbing a dormant pusheen plushie left on your floor and pressing your face into it, a silent scream escaping your lips. you peer over at your phone one last time, finally deciding to take a leap.

goodnight, you text, pausing. you take a few moments, typing out i miss you a good six times before deleting such an idiotic message, you two saw each other no more than a few hours ago, why would you even send that? your hands are clammy.

maybe he caught something?

in the next minute, you practically jump up on your feet as your message is registered as seen. you sit up on the bed, observing text bubbles pop up and disappear for several minutes. eventually, jaemin settles on simply hearting your message.

he didn’t even say it back, but your heart is racing, and an irreversible warmth encapsulates you. the sides of your mouth curve upward involuntarily as you think of jaemin, his stupid jokes and his wide smile and his messy blonde hair, lying in bed deciding over how to respond to a ‘goodnight’ text. it’s just a text. a mere reaction even, nothing of a true response, yet this is a feeling you haven’t had in a long time.

lovesickness, you realize.

oh lord.

THE ETHICS OF COWORKER HOOKUPS 12: and zhong chenle was right in the end

“fucking finally” chenle’s mouth does that swivel upward and he beckons renjun closer. “pay up”.

“what? no, this doesn’t count, he hasn’t even told jaemin how he feels yet” renjun argues.

donghyuck taps his feet onto the floor, nudging you with his shoulder as he shares a knowing look, you stick out your tongue, though completely anxious about your upcoming circumstances. “told jaemin how i what?”

chenle sighs as if the whole world rests atop his shoulders. “jaemin romances you every single day, cooks for you, buys you cute gifts, asks for free consults and you’re still wondering how he feels for you? you sure you were at the top of your class back in university?”

jaemin walks in then.

“jaemin!”

you internally wince at the extent of your excitement, tone overwhelming. “um.. hi”.

“hey”.

“you never texted”.

“must’ve slipped my mind”.

“cool— uh, listen” over jaemin’s shoulder, chenle gestures you a thumbs up, renjun making a cut throat motion across his neck whilst donghyuck simply observes the whole thing in the manner of daytime entertainment. “uh.. i’m— we’re ordering in tonight, pizza and a movie are you down?”

jaemin opens his locker and doesn’t look at you. “sounds a little boring, sorry..”

“we don’t have to watch the movie” you suggest, screw shame, you’re as desperate as they get.

he blinks over at you, as if attempting to keep himself grounded though looking into your eyes.

“i’ll pass, have fun though” he replies, “see you all tomorrow” then he’s picking up his jacket, rushing out the locker room in an instant, cutting you off quickly. he practically runs into jeno on his way out, startling the other into donghyuck’s personal space.

“what’s up with jaemin? he looks like his cat just died”.

you turn to renjun and chenle. “he just rejected me, right?

“that money is literally mine” chenle grits his teeth.

“you’re all useless”.

by the time you make it to the lobby, jaemin is about finished with his daily wrap up talk with the receptionist, bag over his shoulder and head pointed towards the door. you’re fully aware of how pathetic you must seem currently, but you suppose nothings worse than not getting the truth out of him.

“hey.. hey, jaemin, slow down?”

jaemin blinks again, the irritated furrow of his eyebrows jumping out at you immediately. “what do you want?”

“i want you to talk to me”.

“what’s there to talk about?”

“you— gosh, you’re so confusing, you know? i can’t read minds, can’t you just tell me what i did wrong?”

and how you ended up outside is beyond you, perhaps it was the better decision, after all, arguing in front of the front desk lady is about as embarrassing as it gets.

jaemin scoffs, glancing down at his watch as if he’s unaware of the time, his apple watch lights up and the background is a picture of his cats, the wallpaper is helplessly adorable, it endears you to no end.

“you didn’t do anything”.

“well you don’t exactly make that obvious with how you’ve been avoiding me, you’ve been weird ever since i told you i started hanging out with shotaro again”.

“that— that has nothing to do with it, what you do out of work is none of my business”.

you try not to feel hurt by that one, you’re aware of what jaemin is trying to do. “so what is it?”

jaemin bites into his cheek. “can’t you drop it?”

“no” you refuse, slightly blocking his way though he could probably carry you on a bad day. “you’re going to have to tell me or get through me”.

“are you insane?”

that almost earns a well deserved fit of laughter, you suppose you are at this point. “you’re being immature, we have all night”.

jaemin gives a long hard stare, and you actually think he’s about to push you out of the way, leave you rejected on the cold sidewalk, but then he sighs, picking at the ends of his hair before breaking into a sigh. “i let you down, you know?”

you blank, arms dropping at your sides as you instead give continuous blinks. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

jaemin looks a crossbred of punching you and kissing you. “of course you don’t remember it’s— god you say things and barely even mean them cause you just talk so much, you know? you make me mad cause you do these little things that just piss me off and i just don’t understand you, you care about people so much and you’re so bossy but you’re also so.. cute, and nice, and you’re funny and you always do these things that make me realize i’m stupidly in love with you, there, that’s it”.

your heart resounds like a drum in your ears. “jaemin—“

“i fell in love with you, okay? and i know you told me not to, didn’t want us devolving into any domestic shit but.. i am, present tense, i’m in love with you”.

oh, you suppose there’s always a catch.

“you done now?” you ask.

“am i— yeah” jaemin laughs, dry and all. “i’m done, are you happy? can i go home now?”

“no” you pull him by the front of his jacket to kiss him, it’s cute that jaemin is clearly surprised by it, the broken whimper he allows to escape when you bite into the swell of his bottom lip is even cuter. his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and for a few sweet moments you forget you’re in front of your building of occupancy. you pull away with your cheeks hot as you rest your foreheads together, suddenly amused.

“thought you would’ve let your parents set you up with your ex”.

“and you didn’t think to ask me?”

“i mean— we never talked about.. this”.

“because you said it would be weird!”

“oh so i’m the bad guy now?”

“yes! yes you are!”

“i told you i was in love with you all you had to say was—“

“shut up” you snap, cupping his impossibly perfect face between your hands. “lord i like you so much, love you an excruciating amount and i miss you all the time even though i see you everyday, you’re so annoying and you have that addicting smile and it’s— you piss me off”.

“as you’ve said before”.

“but.. you know, guess it wouldn’t hurt to try”.

he kisses you again and you can’t help how you smile against his own lips.

“you wanna come back with me?”

jaemin pretends to think it over, as if your fingers aren’t entwined and you don’t already have butterflies alive in your stomach. “i’m worried, what happens if my helmet swallows your tiny little head whole”.

“so romantic na, i’ll have to give you an award for that one”.

“aww, really?”

“no”.

jaemin sticks out his tongue, one last peck given to your lips before you two were off.

when you get back to your place, jaemin falls asleep on your lap midway through the movie like an exhausted old man, or maybe just the young surgeon subjected to the torturous work hours at guleum grave hospital just trying his best. you can’t believe how fond you are, gaze brazen in a manner that renders you nauseous. unable to resist, you reached out to tuck strands of his hair behind his ear.

you hate yourself, it’s just the slightest bit terrifying, you’re fearful at the oncoming future and the enigma of na jaemin in his all. you just want to make sure he wants this, the mushy and sticky feelings which come with the whole process. he is a mystery, yes, but he’s also kind, and patient, and so full of boundless devotion that he probably isn’t even sure he retains.

jaemin jerks awake once jeno flicks on the lights of the living room, but he settles down quickly once he realizes he’s in your lap, you run your fingers through his hair, quietly aching.

he blinks up at you slowly. “i missed the movie”.

“you did” you murmur, “wanna go to bed?”

“yeah” jaemin grabs ahold of your hand in his hair, fingers intertwined, beginning to leave light kisses on your wrist, just above your pulse. he’s so cute like this, so soft looking with his delicate feeling lips and soft all around the edges. you might get sick from the absorbent amount of love you happen to be feeling, his eyelashes flutter in your direction, a smile tugging at his lips which you mirror.

it’s a match made on this soul sucking earth. it’s only a little perfect.

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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hyunniesgirl · 1 year ago

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Another Love | part 3

Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.

Words count: 5,082

Warnings: do I even have to warn you guys about angst at this point?

A/N: this is not proofread because I'm sleepy, tomorrow I'll probably come back and fix the things that should be fixed.

I'm planning two or three more parts for this fic.

Seungmin got home after work and awkwardly told you he found a new roommate, it's a friend from his highschool time.

“That's great”, you tell him, even though you're worried, because that means you have to go back home and you just don't know if you're ready yet.

“I asked him for two weeks, so I could settle everything, so take your time”, he says and you nod.

That is a good amount of time, Jeongho is coming to see you in two days and you're really looking forward to seeing him. You find yourself already missing the man even though it's barely two weeks since you last saw him last.

Things with Jeongho are going slowly but great, he's sweet and makes sure you're comfortable with every advance he makes. You can't deny, being the object of affection of such a handsome and interesting person is flattering.

“Do you wanna go out before I move out? We can go watch a movie or eat something nice, it's on me”, you ask while watching him walk to his room.

“That would be nice, I'll check my schedule and we can set the date”, he tells you before closing the door to his bedroom.

You're so grateful to Seungmin, if it wasn't for him you would have been forced to stay living with Jisung after he rejected you, or you would have had to rent a crap apartment on short notice so you could have a place to stay without bothering anyone.

Speaking of the devil, it's the first time in a few days you're thinking about Jisung and you realize how relieved you are. It makes you believe things are finally looking up for you.

Living in Japan, Jeongho can only come to see you on weekends when he's not working. So you basically spend two weekends a month with him, it's not perfect but at the same time you two decided to take things slowly so you're taking your time to actually develop your feelings for him. What doesn't take very long.

You're not sure if it's because you were deprived of an actual romantic relationship for quite some time or if it happens to be like that because Jeongho is such a warm person to be around, but you just know you like him.

You are at the airport, waiting for him to arrive. When people start coming out of the gate, you tiptoe trying to find him in the crowd.

He's doing the same as you, but being taller it's not so difficult for him to find you. You jump and wave with your arms even though you know he already saw you, but you're just too excited to see him.

“And here I thought it would be difficult finding you”, he stops in front of you while you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze him into your embrace.

“I missed you”, you tell him. He chuckles, bringing his hands up and cupping your face, lightly brushing his lips on yours before landing the most sweet kiss.

“I missed you too”, he tells you, connecting your foreheads. You smile brightly, feeling warm.

You really like Jeongho, and that makes you wonder how your life would have been if you had said yes to him in middle school.

“Let's go”, you say, intertwining you fingers with him, “you have to rest because I have lots of fun planned for us”

He nods, paying attention to every word you say while you tell him some of the things you want to do during the weekend.

You stay in his hotel since you can't take him to sleep on Seungmin's sofa. You two ask for room service and talk about everything—his life in Japan, his work, your major, your tutoring and how things are going now that you will have to go back to live with Jisung.

“How are you feeling about that?” He asks, while you eat.

“Honestly, I don't know”, you tell him. “But I'm pretty confident, things are different now, I even have a hot boyfriend”, you joke, making him choke on his food.

“I don't remember being asked out”, he says, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I thought it was a giving”, you shrug, biting on your burger, “since you're down bad for me”

He laughs out loud, throwing his head back.

“I'm not saying you're wrong, but you could be a little more humble”, he tells you, grabbing a napkin and whipping the ketchup off of the corner of your lips.

“Don't you think I've been humble enough for like a decade?”

“You got a point”

You soon finish your dinner and turn on the TV so you can watch a movie. It's just comfortable being with Jeongho, he makes the storm that usually is your mind become a light rain.

The next day is packed, you wake him up at 9 a.m. knowing it's going to be difficult to take him out of bed, especially when he keeps holding you and trying to make you stay in his warm embrace.

“We have to go”, you tell him, trying to escape from his heavy arm around your waist.

“Just more five minutes”, he asks, snuggling his head in the crock of your neck.

You really do want to stay like this with him, but you can't be swayed, you two have a full schedule that must be fulfilled.

“Jeongho, we must go or we are going to lose my first surprise”, you pout.

“Surprise?” He asks, backing away to look at you.

“Yes, I prepared a lot of things for us to do this weekend”, you give him a smug smile, “I didn't tell you half of it yesterday”

“Hm, that does sound interesting”, the hold on your waist tightens, making your body press even more against his. Jeongho lands a kiss on your cheek, then on your neck, going slower, “but you'll have to give me more than that to convince me that anything you planned is better than this”, you gasp feeling his hot breath hitting on your skin.

“I-”, you're not sure if you want to go out anymore, after feeling his soft lips again. “Babe”, you whisper, almost giving up when he flinches, backing away again. He is blushing.

“Did you just call me ‘babe’?” He asks flustered and you nod, smiling sheepishly.

“I mean, if you don't like it-”

“Of course I like it”, he answers fast, sitting on the bed. “Let's go, if you keep this up I won't let you get out of this bed for the whole weekend”, he tells you, getting up.

That offer does sound tempting, you sigh, but you two really do have lots to do.

Jeongho is not your first boyfriend, you didn't spend years pining over Jisung just waiting. Trying to get over him one way or another, you had your fair share of relationships, they just quite never made you feel like it was enough.

Until now. Jeongho easily swept you off your feet, liking him is just natural.

“Say cheese”, he asks while taking a selfie of you two, you're resting in a cafe after walking for hours.

“You really do like taking pictures”, you say and he nods.

“I do, especially when I'm with the second prettiest woman in the world”, he tells you.

You chuckle.

“May I presume that the number one is your mother?”

“Of course, dear. Who else could compete with you?”, he jokes, making you roll your eyes.

Jeongho’s name is called and he excuses himself to go to the counter to get your orders. This cafe you're visiting just opened, it is pretty popular and always crowded. You were only able to secure a table for your date because Hanna has a friend who works at the cafe and they were able to reserve it for you.

You hear the noise from the bell on the door and lift your eyes out of your phone to look at it, meeting Jisung's eyes.

What is he doing here?

“I didn't want to say it, but I think the cake you make is prettier than this one”, you hear Jeongho's voice, making you turn away to look at him, praying that your best friend won't try to talk to you.

Jeongho is much more sensible than you think, he picks up on your sudden stiffness and the awkwardness on your face, looking around to find out what happened. He sees Jisung coming in your direction hand in hand with a girl.

His right hand moves fast to the hand you have on the table, and his left one lands on your back, giving you reassurance.

“Jisung, it's been a while”, Jeongho says, voice more stern than you're used to, making you look at his face again, to see him almost glaring at your friend.

“Jeongho”, Han smiles, glancing at the hand your boyfriend has over yours and noticing how close you're from each other, “I thought you lived in Japan”, he points out.

“I do, but I come often to visit my girlfriend”, Jeongho smiles pretentiously.

“Your what now?” Han asks him, but he's looking at you, “last time I checked you haven't seen each other for almost ten years”

You turn your hand around, interlacing your fingers with Jeongho.

“Well, it has been a while since you last checked”, you answer, confidently.

Jisung's stand falters and the frown in his face is just priceless but you feel bad that he had to find out this way.

“Why are you being so awkward”, Lia says, glaring at him, “you should be happy for them”

She smiles at you.

“I'm happy for you, y/n, please take good care of her”, she tells Jeongho and he smiles kindly at her. “We will be on our way, then”

You have known Lia for a few months now. She was always nice to you, going to the apartment all the time and you thought her and Jisung to be just friends until you saw him smiling when he picked up her call, the same smile you have coveted for so long, wishing you were the one in the receiving end of that smile.

But you never were.

There's no reason for you to dislike her just because she is with him, now you have your own love and you don't need to wish for the affection of someone that doesn't have it in them to give it to you.

“Well, that was awkward”, Jeongho's voice takes you out of your daze. “Are you alright?”, he asks, bending down to be closer to you.

You smile at him, giving him a peck on the lips.

“I'm good, I have you”, you tell him. The man smiles brightly, tilting his head while looking at you lovingly.

“Now I'm thinking you're the one who's down bad for me”, he scoffs playfully, standing up and sitting in front of you.

“I can't confirm nor deny”, you say, winking at him. “What I can confirm is that the cake I bake is prettier than this one”, you bring back what he told you before.

“That's what I'm telling you!” He says excitedly, forgetting about Jisung, and honestly, you do too.

Why is she laughing so much? Is he even that funny? Or is she just trying to win his favor? Those are the thoughts Jisung has in his head while waiting for his order to get ready, he can't stop stealing glances at you, he misses your smiles and your laugh, there was a time he was the main reason for that beautiful sound to come out of your mouth.

“They look good together”, Lia's voice never sounded so annoying to him, what is she even talking about? You and Jeongho don't look good at all.

He gets up when his name is called, going to the counter to pick up his order and walking outside to meet Lia after. He can't stop thinking about you, if you hadn't gone away he would be the first person to know about you and Jeongho. It's just weird for him not being the first person you tell things to, that's what is bothering him he's sure of it.

The fact that he couldn't listen to anything Lia said throughout their whole date honestly worries him, Jisung has no idea what's happening to him and why he's acting this way towards the girl he was so into a few months ago.

He tries to bury himself in work, doing everything to stop thinking. He's afraid of what he's going to find out if he dig any deeper trying to understand his feelings.

You're in front of your apartment, you know the passcode and you know Jisung is not there at that moment but you just can't move. You have your huge bag hanging on your shoulder and another one on the floor, the only thing you have to do is go inside, so why is it so terrifying? The other time you went there to pick your books and some clothes, you didn't feel this way.

Was it because you knew you were not staying? Or was it because you and your best friend were on better terms at the time? Maybe you should just rent a crap apartment and go live alone. But how are you going to explain that to your parents? You can’t run away from Jisung your whole life, he is your best friend.

“Oh dear, were you traveling?” You hear the voice of the old lady who lives right next door.

You turn around, putting the sweetest smile you have on your lips.

“Hello, Mrs. Park, I was visiting a friend”, you half lie.

“Oh, that sounds like fun”, she giggles, “are you having trouble going inside?”

“Actually, Jisung changed the password and forgot to tell me”, you smile, lying through your teeth now, “I'm waiting for him to answer my texts”

She nods.

“Oh, your generation don't like to call, right? If I were you, I would call him until he picked up”, she jokes, “would you like to come inside to wait? You're going to get tired by just standing there”

You breathe, relieved, you know it's just a temporary measure but you'll take any opportunity not to enter your apartment yet.

“I would love to”, you answer her, grabbing the bag from the floor and following her inside.

Her apartment has pretty much the same layout as yours, but the decoration couldn't be any more different. She has lots of trinkets, frames and a clock hanging on the wall. There are a lot of pictures of her children and grandchildren.

“What about your husband?” You ask, sitting on the sofa while watching her going through the kitchen and putting some water to boil.

“He's visiting his brother in the countryside”, she answers. Your eyes wander around the room, landing on a frame with a beautiful couple. The picture looks old as it has a lot of aging marks.

“Oh, it's me and my husband”, Mrs. Park says, making you flinch to hear her so close to you. She has a proud smile on her lips. “Quite a handsome couple, weren't we?” She points out and you nod.

“Yes, a very charming couple”

She sighs, putting the tray with the teacups on the table in the center of the room.

“You know, he was my best friend”, she sits on the sofa, pointing to the other side for you to do the same, “I didn't always see him as a man, you know? I was in love with someone else at the time he confessed”

You stare at her, not sure what she's trying to say.

“But that guy broke my heart and he was there to pick it up and I fell in love”, she completes, with loving eyes.

“I'm not sure if I understand”, you say, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

“I'm telling you that the person you like may take a bit of time to understand his feelings”, she smiles kindly, “but I'm sure he will come to his senses”

You drop your eyes to your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. You're sure the old lady is only telling you that so you can feel better, but you don't feel like that at all. You don't want Jisung to like you now, you are exhausted from waiting for him.

“Your story is amazing, Mrs. Park”, you tell her, “but I already have someone who's absolutely sure of his feelings for me”, you stand, “I don't think I'll have to wait for another love”

She stares at you for a moment, analyzing you, trying to guess if you're being serious. Then, she smiles, standing too.

“I'm glad you came to that conclusion, honey”, she gets closer, patting you on the back. “Did Jisung send you the password?”, she asks, seeing you collect your bags.

“Yes, I have everything I need to go back home”, you say, thanking her for the hospitality.

You take a few deep breaths before pressing the password on the lock of your door. The house is the same as it was when you last went there.

You put your things in your room, unpacking your belongings and putting everything in place. You go to the living room, opening the glass door to the balcony so some air can circulate inside, you're sure Jisung spent his days out and didn't worry about opening the house a bit.

You go to the kitchen, there's nothing in the freezer, you already knew that you'd find it empty so it's time to go grocery shopping.

You're in the middle of the vegetables section when your phone buzzes. Looking at the device, you see Jeongho's name lightening the screen.

“Hey”, you answer, smiling.

“Hello, my love”, he says, you hear heavy breathing in the back of the call.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, worried.

“Yeah, I was hitting the gym and they called me from the office saying they needed me”, he sighs, rustling at the other side of the line.

“If you're in a hurry why are you calling me?” You ask, frowning.

“Of course, it's because I told you I would call you in the afternoon”, he tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world and you giggle, feeling the happiest at that moment, warmth growing on your chest.

“You could have just texted me”, you tell him.

“Then I wouldn't be able to hear your sweet voice”, you're sure he has that flirty playful smile on his lips while saying that.

You sigh, leaning on a shelf from the store.

“I miss you”, you tell him.

On the other side of the line Jeongho stops on his tracks, smiling to himself while fidgeting.

“Me too, I can't wait to see you next weekend”, he says, “I was thinking maybe we could have dinner with all your friends so I can be officially introduced?”

“Yeah, that would be great”, you say, “I'll talk to them”

“Okay, I have to go now but I'll text you later”

It's great having someone who actually reciprocates your feelings, much better, someone you're so into as Jeongho.

You walk out of the elevator struggling to carry the groceries, finding a feminine figure hovering over your door. When she turns around, you recognize Lia.

“Hey”, you frown, did Jisung not tell her he was out?

“Y/N, hey!” She says, smiling at you. “Here, let me help you”, she says, grabbing two bags out of your hands.

“Thank you!” You say, “Jisung is not home right now, but come inside to wait for him, I don't think he's going to take long”

You open the door, giving space for her to walk in and then close the door.

“I'm sorry about showing up unannounced”, she smiles sheepishly, putting the bags on the table in the kitchen. “I texted Jisung but he didn't see my texts, I just wanted to give this to him”, she says, taking a pot out of her bag.

“Oh, okay”, you take it from her hands and turn around, putting it in the fridge.

“You can have some, I made a lot”, she says awkwardly and you smile at her.

“Thank you, Lia. Are you sure you don't want to wait?” You ask, looking at the mirror, you're sure he will be home soon and if she stays it's less of an opportunity for you to speak to him.

“I have class”, she sighs, “can you tell him to call me?”

“Sure, I'll tell him”, you nod. She starts walking to the door and you accompany her, saying goodbye and watching her enter the elevator, waving goodbye to you while the doors are closing.

You're sure you could have been friends if things were different. You sigh, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt while going back inside.

You brought a lot of vegetables, they all need to be washed before being put in the fridge, so you start taking them out of the bags to organize everything.

You have the sink’s tap running and some music playing on your phone, so when the door is opened and a tired Jisung enters the house you don't seem to notice.

He stares at you as if you're a mirage, happiness overflowing in his chest with your presence back home. He watches as you hum to the song playing, a few strands of your hair falling on your face.

With a bowl of vegetables ready to be stored, you turn around bumping into your best friend, making you jump.

“When did you get here?” You ask, with your hand on your chest, heart beating fast, not sure if it's because of the surprise or because you're finally facing him.

“I just got here”, he lies, he can't tell you it's been minutes he's there watching you.

You nod, opening the fridge to store the vegetables, trying to avoid his gaze. Not sure of how to act now that you're back.

“Oh, Lia stopped by and left you this”, you point to the pot.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know she was going to come here”, he starts explaining and you frown.

“There's no reason for you to apologize, she's your girlfriend”, you answer nonchalantly and he steps back, feeling a sudden ache in his chest. You're not even looking at him while saying that, but why is it that you look so unbothered? Are you really over him? That's what he wanted, so why doesn't he feel relieved?

“She's not my girlfriend”, he tells you, frowning. You finally look at him, he's staring at you like he expects something from you. You don't know what he wants and you sure don't have the energy to try and find out.

“Anyway”, you say, closing the fridge, “I'm sure she'll be your girlfriend soon, you can bring her anytime you want don't mind me”

“Won't you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Not at all”, you grab your phone and put it in your pocket, ready to go take a shower. “I plan on bringing my boyfriend a lot here, so it won't be fair to you if you can't do the same”

You flash him a smile before heading to your room. You're acting the same as you did before your confession, so why does it make him so miserable now?

“So, does he want to ask for your hand in marriage or something like that?” Felix asks, making you and Hannah choke on your drinks, while Hyunjin and Minho laugh at your reaction. “I'm just asking!”

“No, why would you even think that?”, you chuckle.

“It's such a formal thing to have dinner like this”, Seungmin points out, “normal people just arrange a meeting at a cafe or something like that”

“He likes y/n, he must not be right in the head”, Jeongin says and you smack him in the head, making him pout.

“I think it's cute that he wants to meet you all formally”, you say.

“I think it's nice too”, Hannah supports you, “if you guys don't wanna go just say it”

“Now, we didn't say that”, Minho says. “It's just a bit weird to finally meet a boyfriend you actually like. Especially since we all thought Hannie would fall in love with you eventually”

You nod, sighing and feeling a bit upset with his comment, but you know it's impossible for people to forget you were in love with Jisung for more than a decade.

“Yeah, I get where you're coming from, but I'm happy with Jeongho and I want you all to meet him and know how great he is”

Minho nods.

“Yeah, okay. Then, I guess I'll have to give him the ‘dad talk’”, he says seriously and everyone laughs at your terrified face.

“Please don't”, you beg him.

You get home earlier than expected, Jisung is not home yet so you have the house to yourself for a bit. A long, hot shower is everything you need to relax. It's been a long week with awkward interactions between you and Jisung, you kept trying to avoid him, at least until you feel comfortable like you used to.

You spend too much time organizing your wardrobe, when you look at the time you realize how late it is. So you grab a towel and hurry to the bathroom, trying to get back to your room before Jisung gets home.

The hot water does wonders to you, even though you have to take a quick shower, it helps a lot with your sore muscles from stress.

When you wrap yourself in the towel and your clothes are nowhere to be found, you know you fucked up. It's even worse when you hear the beeps at the door, fucking hell. Things are already awkward, if you walk out of this bathroom in only a piece of fabric, things will be even worse.

You can tell Jisung is in the kitchen because you can hear him walking around, opening the cabinets and humming to some music while setting the table. You're sure you can just run to your room and he'll never know this happened.

That would be a great plan, actually, if Han wasn't knocking on your room's door exactly when you got out of the bathroom.

He turns around, with a big smile on his face that automatically dies down the moment he sees you. Your life is so fucked up, really. You have been living together for three years, of course he had seen you in only a towel before but things were inevitably different now. Maybe he thinks you did this on purpose?

"Ahm-", you're trying to explain yourself, you can tell he's speechless, "I was trying to shower before you arrived and happened to forget to take my clothes with me", you say, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah", he answers, stepping aside so you can enter your room. "You can come eat when you're done, I brought pizza", he says and you nod, walking fast into your room and locking the door.

From now on you'll have a checklist of things you have to take to the bathroom when showering so your dumbass doesn't forget about the most important thing: clothes.

Han feels his ears getting warmer, you look somehow different, he just can't tell exactly what changed. Every other time you saw him in a towel or the other way around, you both would brush it off and laugh about it, why does he feel so embarrassed now?

"Did you change your hair?" He asks, your mouth is full so you can't answer him right away.

"No? Maybe it grew a bit"

"That must be it", he nods.

Yeah, it's definitely her hair that's different, he thinks.

"I'll do the dishes, you must be tired after practicing all day", you say, gathering the plates.

Han nods, getting up and telling you he's going to take a shower.

The image of the drops of water running from your hair through your neck and chest and disappearing in the soft fabric is the first thing that comes to Jisung's mind when the hot water hits his skin.

Where you always like that? Your skin looked so soft, he felt the urge to caress it, what would your reaction be if he touched you?

Han frowns, why the hell is he thinking about that? He must be crazy, it's the only reasonable answer.

The fact that another date with Lia went by and Jisung couldn't pay attention to a word she said makes it clear to him that things are not the same between them and that he doesn't want to keep things going as they are.

“I think we shouldn't see each other anymore”, he says, when they arrive at her apartment. Lia's hands stop before she can open the door and she turns around slowly, looking at Jisung.

“What are you talking about?” She asks, leaning on the door, staring at the guy she likes. He sighs, trying to come up with a good explanation for the reason he wants to end things.

“I just, don't feel the same anymore”, he looks at his feet, not able to look her in the eyes yet.

She is staring at him, crossed arms in front of her chest, trying to hold the tears, trying not to break.

“You have been acting indifferent to me for quite some time now”, she points out, with a bitter smile on her lips. “I should have ended things when I first noticed it, I guess I just like you that much, huh”, she completes, taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry”, Han sighs, finally looking at her, “I didn't mean to hurt you”

“Yeah”, she scoffs, “Is it because of y/n?”

Jisung's eyes widen.

“It was always quite clear that she liked you”, she completes, before he can say anything. “I just didn't pay any mind to it because you guys have been friends for such a long time”

“It's not like that-”, he tries to argue.

“That day at the cafe you couldn't take your eyes out of her and that guy”, she points out, “she liked you for so long and right when she finds someone else you start liking her?” Lia scoffs, feeling the tears brimming in her eyes.

“I don't like her like that”, he says and the girl rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that”, she says before turning around and entering her apartment, closing the door in his face.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback give me motivation to keep writing. Also, you can buy me a coffee.

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