#who has the most loving gaze in this? the idol couple that just called off the divorce or the couple that is literally getting married rn? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lollixp0p · 10 months ago

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Valentine's lovin' (18+)

Pairing: Bf!Jung Wooyoung x afab!reader

Genre: Romance, fluffy, smut (MNDI)

Word count: Just over 3k!!

Warnings: Idol!au, established relationship, sub!Wooyoung (subtle though), nipple play (m rec.), hair pulling (m rec.), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!), riding, creampie, (reader gets called my love, baby and other variations of it, Wooyoung gets called kitty, good boy)

Summary: It's your first Valentine's day as a couple and Wooyoung decides to take you on the best date of your life, so of course you have to reward him for his efforts ;)

Note: Happy Valentine's day everyone!! It's lovely Wooyoung time, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys (ignore any errors, I'm too lazy to check for them properly right now) :) Please comment, reblog etc. and give me feedback so I know if you liked it!🙏

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

The entire week up to today Wooyoung had been a stressed mess, wanting to make sure everything was in order for your special date. Why special, you may ask? Well because it was Valentine's day and he'd wanted everything to be as perfect as possible.

He'd made sure to move every practice or other schedule from that day to a different one, although their managers had not been very pleased about the information.

He had to nag Hongjoong and Jongho to be out of their dorm by seven pm at the latest, so you two could relax after the date with an amateur spa session and then watch your favorite movies until the two of you fell asleep cuddled on his bed. They'd finally agreed on the promise of free dinner paid by him the next day (much to Wooyoungs dismay).

Even though he had been all over the place on the days before it, the actual date was far more magical you could have ever imagined.

Wooyoung showed up to the door of your apartment in a fancy black suit holding a large bouquet of red roses, to signify his undying love and passion for you.

Although the lower half of his face was covered by a black face mask he looked so incredibly handsome you just wanted to drag him straight to your room and skip the entire date.

"Happy Valentine's day my love, I hope you're ready for the most romantic day of your life! These are for you, the most gorgeous person I've ever had the pleasure of seeing", Wooyoung says, pulling his mask down and grinning at you. He hands you the gorgeous bouquet and waits by the door as you go inside to put them in a vase.

"Thank you Wooyoungie... they're so beautiful", you smile at him bashfully. No matter how long it's been he still manages to make your stomach fill with butterflies and twist and turn in the most wonderful ways. The months you've been together have truly been the happiest of your life and you really can't wait to see what he has in store for you for your first Valentine's together.

Wooyoung tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and leaves his hand on your cheek, caressing it softly. He leans in until your noses are touching, but holds still until you try to look away in shyness at his intense gaze.

Chuckling to himself and muttering a 'silly baby' under his breath, he turns your face towards him and finally closes the gap between you, kissing you passionately. Once he breaks off the kiss you're left breathless and dazed... 'What a little brat...' you think, but he's yours so you don't mind him teasing you like this.

He offers you his arm and after making sure you have everything you need with you, you finally grab it, close the door and he leads you to the company car driving you two to the expensive looking barbeque restaurant he'd booked a private room from.

During the entire ride Wooyoung couldn't stop gushing about how gorgeous you looked and you couldn't help but feel flattered that someone whose looks rivaled that of the suns could see such wonder in you.

When you'd gotten close enough to the restaurant Wooyoung put his mask and baseball cap on to hide his identity, slightly ruining his perfectly placed hair. 'The unfortunate realities of going on dates with an idol', you think to yourself, but ultimately understand it being for both of your safety and privacy.

After checking in at the front desk a waiter leads you to your private room and Wooyoung finally takes both the cap and mask fully off.

He fluffs his hair and helps you take your jacket off as you stare at him in wonder, itching to touch the perfectly fallen curls of his hair.

"Thank you Youngie", you smile up at him. He places the coat on the rack next to the door and pauses for a moment, looking you up and down and smiles back at you. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, feeling flustered at how taken he is by you.

"You're welcome pretty baby... I didn't realise you still had the jacket I lent you a month ago, I've been wondering where it went", he chuckles to you while pulling your chair back and pushing it closer to the desk once you're seated.

The restaurant staff had obviously known of your arrival beforehand, and made the room ready for use in advance. He sits down as a different waiter arrives and listens to them explain the menu. The both of you decide to split a slightly bigger meal so you wouldn't be too full by the time you got to the dorms.

Wooyoung had picked an incredible place to eat, as the food had looked mouthwatering the moment it arrived in the room, even if the meat had been raw at that point. His cooking skills had really shined through and you suspect that had been a part of the reason he wanted to take you there, fishing for compliments as he grills the meat for both of you.

While eating you exchanged about a thousand kisses with each other, even as you whined at him to stop so you could chew your food. Though he did make up for it by feeding you with his chopsticks and making sure you drank enough in between, smiling endearingly at you as he wipes any stray sauce off your cheeks, kissing them after.

The conversation was flowing so naturally that at times you'd completely forget to eat or sip the wine you had, due to your excitement and interest in the things you were talking about, making his show of affection very helpful even.

Once you had finally finished you'd put away any trash you managed to make and set your cutlery nicely on the table, to make the waiters job easier. Wooyoung got himself ready to leave and then handed you your jacket. He made sure to let the company staff driving your ride know the car could be driven to the front.

The two of you left after thanking the restaurant staff and once outside Wooyoung opened the door for you to get into the car before him.

You found yourself flustered by how he had upped his charm to what must be a thousand percent for this special day. It was clear this day was very important to him, wanting to impress you so.

In the car Wooyoung kept leaving sweet pecks to your cheeks and lips, telling you how much he loved you. It was obvious the shared wine had gotten him a bit buzzed but you could tell he wasn't drunk, just in that stage where he wanted to kiss you until you both were one, entangled in each others love.

Sitting on the right of you, little by little, his right hand drifts down to your thighs, until he's gripping the inner thigh of your right leg. Moving it towards him slowly, he slightly spreads your legs. Though to your relief (and dissapointment) that's all he does.

By now you know him well enough to know that normally he'd be cheeky enough to try finger you in the backseat, but you're glad he knows better right now. Wooyoung must realise that if he keeps his hands to himself, you'll rock his world as a thanks for the best date you'd ever had together yet.

Despite being a little brat that needs to be put in his place every once in a while, you know there's nothing Wooyoung loves more than getting taken care of and pampered, being controlled.

The car coming to a stop is what gets him to stop drowning you in kisses and he gathers himself, taking his hand off your thigh and winking at you. 'God he looks delicious', you find yourself thinking as he's fixing his hair. You have to remind yourself there's someone else in the car with you so you don't take him right here.

Wooyoung opens the door and gets out, then helps you out of the car by holding your hand. After thanking the driver and telling him to have a great night, the car drives off.

He takes off the mask again and shoves it into his pocket, grinning at you when he notices your intense staring. Even if it's meant to be teasing his smile truly is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

The two of you walk up to the front door of the dorm he shares with the leader and the maknae of his group. After the move that divided the eight of them into three separate places, meeting him at the dorm had become a lot less stressful.

Before there was no privacy at all and the rest of the men would tease Wooyoung any chance they'd get. Sure, it was out of love for him but the amount of times one of the seven had walked in on a makeout session was starting to become ridiculous.

Wooyoung pulls out his keys and as he tries to get the dorm key in the lock, the focused look on his face makes you snap and finally jump him. He manages to get the door open just as you turn his head towards you and slot your mouths together. He lets out surprised gasp at your enthusiasm and you use the opportunity to shove your tongue into his mouth.

The two of you stumble into the dark apartment with your lips locked. You kiss him harder and he whimpers, loving the feel of you on him. Wooyoung has his hands holding tightly onto your hips and eyes shut in pleasure but despite that he still manages to turn the lights on in the hallway, very telling of how often you've done this together.

You tap him lightly on the shoulder and he gets your signal, your minds and bodies dancing in harmony, something that makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. He removes your jacket while you take off his and start unbuttoning the shirt underneath. Leaving everything extra at the front door the two of you run to his room hand in hand giggling to each other with lovesick eyes.

Fuck it, the spa session and movies can wait until later.

He opens the bedroom door, pushes you in and closes it behind you both. Crowding him in against the door you continue making out. You run your hands through his silky hair, tug on it and Wooyoung lets out a pathetic whimper, grinding his already hardening dick against your leg. You push his open shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

"Hey... no fair, you have to take yours off too!", he breaks the kiss to pout at you.

"Oh, I'm sorry Youngie... I thought I was in control here? When did you get so demanding, huh?"

He stays quiet and looks down, you can almost see the conflict in his eyes. Should he keep teasing you and risk a punishment or listen like a good boy and get his reward for being such an incredibly thoughtful and sweet boyfriend today?

"Well? How's it gonna be little kitty, are you gonna be good and listen to me?"

He looks up at you through the hair covering his beautiful brown eyes, "... Yeah... yes please, baby," Wooyoung whispers, "I'll- I'll listen- I want you, please."

"Mmm, my good boy, thank you...", you coo at him and kiss him on the cheek. "I'll take such good care of you Woo." His whole face down to his neck flushes red in excitement and arousal. He's so greedy for praise and compliments...

"Take off your clothes and get on the bed for me, won't you kitty?", you tilt his face towards you and he shivers, nodding. He does as told and situates himself in the middle of the bed, looking at you while you stand at the foot of the bed. Slowly you take your clothes off and his eyes widen.

Taking in the sexy red lingerie, barely covering anything, he gulps and grips the knees of his pants, "A-ah shit, what the fuck... You're so sexy...", his face scrunches, shuddering breaths leaving his mouth. You giggle at his obvious arousal, cupping your tits in your hands and groping them. His hands twitch, like he's itching to move them to his very noticeable erection.

"Thank you, sweet kitty. I thought I'd give you a nice little surprise today...", your hands run lower on your body and to the back, leaving them on your ass.

Turning around, you bend over to show off exactly what he wants to see. "Would you like your treat now?", you ask as you run your other hand lower towards your already eager pussy. He takes in a breath through his gritted teeth and watches you stand up straight to take off the bra top of the red set. You get on the bed and he turns towards you as you do, never taking his eyes off of you.

"Come get your treat then kitty", you spread your legs as he crashes down on the mattress, panting like a dog in heat. Not waiting another second he brings his hands down to your hips to take off the remaining piece of clothing.

Wooyoung lowers his mouth to your dripping cunt, moaning in delight at finally getting a taste of you. He pushes his tongue in your hole and thrusts it in and out for a bit gathering your wetness on his tongue.

Him moaning into your pussy makes your legs shake and do your best to keep them from shutting around his face. Seeing you you so lost in the feeling of his talented tongue makes him grind his crotch against the mattress, losing himself in the feeling and taste of you on his mouth. He lifts his face for a moment to take a breath.

"I love you so much... my baby, fuck... You taste so good", he buries his face between your legs again, gripping tightly onto your thighs to keep you as close as possible. Lapping at your clit, he groans in satisfaction.

"F-fuck Youngie... You're so g- so good for me", you gather the hair on the back of his head into your hands and guide him even closer to your wet heat, so that he's buried nose deep in you.

The pressure makes him groan into you and the vibrations of his voice in turn make your legs twitch shut around his head for a moment.

"Shit! My good... fuck, good boy! Doing so well for me kitty", your voice shudders, hands gripping his hair harder.

Soon you find yourself craving something more. "Ah, fingers too kitty...", you tell him, desperately needing any part of him in you, craving to be closer to him in any way possible. And just like the good boy he can, he listens to your command immediately.

Going straight for two to properly stretch you for his cock, he pushes them in and scissors them, sucking on your clit at the same time.

He continues to play with your pussy and it doesn't take you long to get close from his skilled hands. In just a couple more moves of his fingers your pussy throbs and you come around them, making you moan his name loudly in pleasure.

You don't wait long to come down, instead you sit up and push him down by his chest and straddle him, running your hands over his smooth skin.

"Wooyoungie... Let me take care of you ok? You'll let me, right?", you coo at him sweetly, seeing his eyes cloud over in ecstasy as your fingers find his sensitive brown nipples.

"Haa- ah! Yeah yeah, please, hah!", he thrashes his head from side to side on the pillow, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. You grind your wet pussy against his hard cock and his whole body jolts under you. He lets out a long wound out moan at the promise of getting to be inside you soon. Finally you take him in your hand, position him under you and start lowering yourself on his dick.

His head tilts back as he groans at the feel of you around him, hands immediately flying to your hips to hold onto anything, as you don't wait to start moving on him. He bucks his hips up towards you and you decide to let him, for the sake of Valentine's day.

You put your hands on the sides of his head and lower your face to his, kissing him with fervour as you keep moving your bodies in tandem.

You move your other hand to his hair again and tug on it, making him whimper. He lets go of your kiss to bare his neck to you and you move your mouth to it to mark him to your liking. Already feeling close after your first orgasm it doesn't take very long to feel it building up again and seeing how Wooyoung can barely contain himself it's obvious he's not that far off either.

"You- ah, you gonna come ki-itty? For me yeah??", you lick along his collar bone and tug hard on his hair.

All that he can let out is a silent scream as he throws his head back further and comes in you, mouthing out something along the lines of 'please, yes, yes god, please!!'.

Seeing his brain shut off in pleasure makes you come around him as well and you stop bouncing on his cock, letting him stay in you as you both come down for your highs together, feeling his cum in you.

"Happy Valentine's my good boy, I love you so much", you kiss him on the lips even if he's barely able to reciprocate, running his hands along your back to ground himself.

You decide to rest with him a bit, not having enough energy to get yourselves clean just yet. For now, you just want to feel him close to you.

Your sweet, caring, thoughtful boyfriend.

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #dividers by cafekitsune

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beomiracles · 8 months ago

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ᴛᴜʙᴀᴛᴜ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ꜱʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ ੈ✩‧₊˚

DREAM RECALL "'Second male lead syndrome' is where the second male lead is or seems infinitely superior to the male lead, and you curse the main character for choosing the wrong guy."

pairings non idol!txt x gn!reader warnings yeonjun is kinda mean, beomgyu is pervert (I can't help myself when I write for him), beomgyu's hints at sexual themes.

#serene adds ✎... it's been forever since I wrote for all five like this hehe. this one's lowkey a little sad... :>

ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ‘ʙᴜʟʟʏ’ who you had sworn off years ago due to his persistent snarky comments and mean pranks. In your eyes he was nothing but a bully and you did everything in your might to keep your distance.

Yeonjun, who had only been a small boy with a crush on a small girl; now finds himself hopelessly watching you from afar as you laugh with your friends. Despite years passing and the fact that you were both grown up by this point, your grudge seemed to persist.

Yeonjun who doesn’t know how to express his feelings for you so he chooses to pull pranks instead, hoping it will catch your attention. Not understanding why you get upset with him and ignore him when he passes by; it only makes his comments grow nastier.

Yeonjun who trips you over in the hallways, yet hesitating — wanting to reach out a hand and help you back up again. Yeonjun who tells you that your shirt is dirty when he actually wants to tell you that blue looks nice on you.

Yeonjun who calls your boyfriend a down-grade from your last, when he wants nothing more but to be the one you call your own.

ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ’ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who always seemed to hang around your boyfriend whenever you were present. Your boyfriend who always explained it as it being a ‘guy thing’.

Soobin who knew that it was wrong to have a crush on his best friend’s girlfriend. So he never made a move.

Soobin who knew that he stood no chance against his best friend. Yeonjun was confident and charismatic, easily swooning you with every other sentence. All the while Soobin has to rehearse his next words before even daring to address you.

Soobin who gets flustered under your stare, and you don’t understand why he insists on hanging out with you and your boyfriend as he rarely speaks. Yeonjun who explains it as him being shy — it only makes Soobin feel even more guilty, his best friend oblivious to his true feelings.

“You listening, Binnie?” Your sweet voice makes his knees weak and Soobin has to blink a couple of times before realizing that he hadn’t heard a word of what you had just said; too lost in your eyes, the way your soft lashes subconsciously moved as you spoke. “Uh-huh”, he splutters, earning a giggle from you, Soobin who loved your laugh.

ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who’s gaze always seemed to linger whenever you were around. His brother would often bring you over, and you would always so politely greet him, making his heart flutter like a little school boy.

Beomgyu who loved the way your eyes would crinkle up as you smiled at his jokes. He would always make excuses to pass by his brother’s room whenever you were over, earning quite the scolding from his elder sibling. In the end it was always worth it.

Beomgyu who doesn’t understand why you had chosen his older brother over him. His brother wasn’t twice as funny or good looking, yet he was the one who’s cheek you pressed soft kisses to whenever you could.

Beomgyu who doesn’t know if he loves it or hates it when you stay over. The sounds of your sweet moans as his brother has his way with you in the room next to his own – keeps him up at night. And he knows it’s wrong, the way he tries to peek at you whenever he thinks you aren’t looking; he can’t help it.

Beomgyu who always got compared to his older brother, desperately wishing to have everything he had, most of all he wanted his girlfriend. Beomgyu who hopes that one day you’ll see what’s been right in front of you all along.

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴜᴛᴏʀ who helped your grades go from D’s to B’s. Taehyun who usually never offered to tutor, despite being the top student in all of his classes, but when you came along, there had been no question about it.

Taehyun, who always waits for you after class so that you can study together. He doesn't mind when you don’t get it right away, in fact he likes explaining things to you, even if he has to do so over and over; only to see the way your eyes light up in joy as you finally understand.

Taehyun who loves when you ask questions about the subject he’s helping you with. Sometimes he even messes up, too lost in the way you chew on your pencil or the way your painted nails itch at your rosy cheek.

Taehyun whose mood turns sour as your friends approach, whisking your attention from him in milliseconds. Heart aching when you tell him that you would have to leave earlier because you had a date.

Taehyun who wishes you would ask to hangout outside of school, outside of tutoring. Taehyun who wishes you would ask questions about him and not the boring equations you tried to solve. Taehyun who wishes to be more than just your tutor.

ʜᴜᴇɴɪɴɢᴋᴀɪ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who never seemed to understand the appeal you saw in the guys you chose to date. Who also never wrapped his head around the range of emotions they caused you to undergo.

“He’s such a dick!” You groan, slamming your phone down on the table as you lean back in your chair. Huening frowns, yesterday you had told him that he was perfect, you seemed to change your mind a lot.

“I’m sure he’ll come around” Kai reassures, though he secretly wishes he wouldn’t. You give him an uncertain look, “you think so?” Your best friend nods, “you’re gorgeous y/n, he would be a fool not to.”

"Oh, stop it!” you giggle, ignorant to the fact that he had meant every word. Hueningkai who wishes you would see yourself through his eyes, perhaps then you would realize his true feelings for you. Instead he’s forced to watch from the sidelines as guys sweep you off your feet.

He gives you a small smile, cheeks reddening as you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re such a great friend, Kai” you sigh against his neck, his heart sinks, friend, that’s all he was to you.

Hueningkai who pats your back and dries your tears after yet another unsuccessful date. Hueningkai who listens to you vent about the guy you’re currently talking to, wishing more than anything to be in his shoes. Hueningkai who’s too much of a coward to ever admit his feelings out loud.

taglist ✎... @gardnhee @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @yunjinsbbg @ninoshome1 (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

#txt #txt fanfic #txt post #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #huening kai #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt x you #txt fluff #beomiracles soft thoughts ᶻ �� 𐰁 #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #txt soft hours #txt soft thoughts #tubatu's dreams

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rabbitenn · 1 year ago

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MATCHUP FOR @fourtyfourcatss

hi, hi ! thank you for requesting, dear <3 i’m sorry this took a while to post, i hope you like it 🩷

i’m also not publishing your ask, since you requested off anon and i can tag you, so, just in case you’d rather keep it private…

your idolish7 match is someone energetic, despite having his own setbacks. like you, he is sincere, his feelings showing on his every expression. despite being naive at times, he is a very hard worker, not wanting to hold others back. he exudes adorable charm, and when you see him trying his best, you can’t help but want to support him with all you have.

i think you can already picture a certain someone based on this description… well, what are you waiting for? he’s already on stage, searching for your face amidst the crowd…

♡ NANASE RIKU

You and IDOLiSH7’s center share some similarities: passionate, optimistic, wanting others to achieve their dreams.

However, there are still some differences in your characters that would work very positively with Riku’s personality: you’re levelheaded, logical and contemplative, all traits that pair really well with his impulsive and stubborn, albeit cheerful demeanor.

Something I believe makes you two a very healthy and supportive couple is your drive to ensure your loved ones achieve their dreams.

We all know Riku had to spend most of his childhood between hospital beds, nebulizers and inhalers, and since he was a kid, all he’s been told is ‘don’t push yourself’, ‘don’t run’, ‘you can’t do this’.

So, to him, having someone who tells him ‘you can do this, I’ll be here for you’ feels as if a whole new universe had been unveiled right before his very eyes…

—

You’ve noticed something is up with him.

It’s clear as day in his gaze. Usually so bright, a million embers contained inside the fiery glow of a shooting star.

Now shadows linger around it, like obsidian clouds at night, auguring bleak sunless mornings.

And yet, your boyfriend doesn’t dare bring the subject up. He really can’t have you worrying about this… It’s not like you don’t know about his illness, rather that now that Iori has found out… he doesn’t want to be a burden to his friends.

“Riku,” you call him, softly, your hands combing through his carmine strands. ��There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?” You venture, tone gentle. “You know, I don’t want to coax you into talking if you don’t want to but…” Your hand finds his, fingers slotting in between his. “I’m here for anything you need, love.”

A sigh leaves your lover’s lips, long lashes fluttering closed at the same time he heavily exhales.

“Maybe it’s stupid…” He mumbles.

“It’s worrying you, isn’t it?” You continue, soothingly brushing through his hair. “I don’t think there’s anything stupid about it, Riku.”

“Alright…” The idol breathes out. “It’s about… you know, my illness… One of my groupmates found out and I just… I don’t want to hold everyone back, but I don’t want to stop singing… I don’t want to go back to being left behind while others can run…” He turns around, slightly laying on his side, hand still clutched in yours.

You squeeze it reassuringly, twice, as you always did when he was feeling stressed about something.

“I don’t think you’re burdening everyone or being left behind, you know.” You tell him, eyes locked with his warm ones. “You have that respiratory issue, yes, but I don’t believe that and your love for singing are incompatible.”

The vocalist’s gaze widens, sitting up at your statement, as he faces you.

“Wait, are you serious?” He questions, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“Positive.” You state, confidently. “If you take good care of your health, there’s nothing you can’t do, Riku.” Your hands reach out to cup his cute face. “Sing with all you have on stage, lean on me when you need to, rely on your groupmates too; they won’t forsake you, my dear.”

Wetness begins to coat your fingers, as tears cascade down your lover’s cheeks, gathering on your fingers like morning dew.

“[Y/n]…” The idol breathes. “You-you mean that? You’re not going to tell me to stop performing? To take it easy?”

You chuckle, brushing away unruly strands of hair from his puppy-like eyes.

“No, I’m not going to tell you to stop. It won’t be all sunshines either, but it’s your dream, isn’t it?” Your fingers caress your boyfriend’s cheekbone. “Then I’m with you, all the way.”

A teary smile draws on your Riku’s lips, the shadow of his usual cheerfulness akin to a full rainbow after slate rain.

—

Your efficiency and creativity are compatible with Riku’s raw charm too. He has talent for singing and he’s a hard worker, there is no doubt about that, but imagine adding your love for music, logic and persuasion to that? You two are about ready to take the world by storm on the entertainment industry.

Plus, if Riku’s running himself ragged or not taking care of himself enough, you could be the one to ground him, helping him to breathe, take his medicines and rest for a moment. With you, he feels like everything will be alright.

Your love languages are similar to how I headcanon Riku would express his affection. While not especially bold or smooth when it comes to physical touch, there is no denying that IDOLiSH7’s superstar highly enjoys your tender touches. Riku especially adores when you play with his hair (and you do too, since it’s so soft and bright!). The dopey smile on his lips and the pink rising on his cheeks are simply adorable, and you can’t help but pepper him with kisses.

On days when your partner’s asthma attacks worsen, and he can’t sleep well at night, it is you who lays him slightly upright over your stomach, like his brother used to do when he was little. Telling him sweet nothings, talking about this book you’re reading or that story you’ve been writing always seem to soothe Riku’s strained lungs, a peaceful expression settling on his features as he drifts off to sleep.

On Riku’s days off, I can picture you too taking walks around areas that won’t worsen his condition, with a clean breeze blowing by, as you two talk about the music you both like, and maybe you make suggestions of songs where Riku’s voice would shine (I mean his singing is always spectacular, but you get what I mean).

You and Riku are that cute couple that you just can’t imagine not being together. Two puzzle pieces in the complimentary colors of the rainbow, fitting together in perfect tune.

♡ RUNNER UP: SUNOHARA MOMOSE

Under that smiley facade of his, Momo truly is someone who cares deeply for the people close to him, sometimes even to the point of putting himself as risk. Clear examples of this are him protecting Toma, or doing anything if it means Yuki would be safe.

While caring for others is a good quality, sometimes he needs some sense talked into him, and I believe you could be the right person for it.

Momo is also someone very observant and way sharper that most people give him credit for, so he’d see right away past your ‘being taken too seriously’ exterior, and he won’t be shy about showing his affection either.

Your love languages align pretty well with what I headcanon his to be too! Physical touch? This man adores it so much! He now must cuddle or hug you in some way at all times (he’ll cry otherwise /lh).

Quality time is also something that means the world to him. Making good memories to look back on, and enjoying the here and now with the one he loves…

Taking walks is a perfect option, as his ideal date is something outdoorsy. However, if you’d rather stay in, he’ll happily oblige, perhaps doing some nail art for you, as you both listen to good music.

#idolish7 #idolish7 x reader #idolish7 imagines #idolish7 matchups #ainana #ainana x reader #idolish7 hadcanons #idolish7 fluff #nanase riku #sunohara momose #nanase riku x reader #riku x reader #momo x reader #anime matchups #anime imagines #anime fluff

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so-sures-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Headcannons for the Madrigal Grandchildren Couples

Author's Note: Everyone here is 15 or older

LONG POST

Isabela & female character

Dolores & Mariano

Luisa & male character

Camilo & female character

Mirabel & male character

Antonio & female character

Isabela

Isa was never really interested in a relationship ever since Mariano

She was finally allowed to grow what she wanted for the first time since she was 5 and she spent the first couple of years reconnecting with her family after Casita fell

She was 22 when she was supposed to be with Mariano

She was 25 when she met you

You were a traveler who had stumbled upon Encanto, a botanist (studier of plants) searching for new plants to catolouge

It was a match made in heaven

The first time Isa saw you flowers burst from her hair and made a trail right to your feet

You look up from the flowers and your jaw drops as you see the most gorgeous woman in front of you, blushing bright red as you meet her gaze

You walks up, introduce yourself, and it's a done deal

Both of you are so captivated by each other, with their knowledge of plants, beauty, magic, and each other in general that it doesn't take much for you and Isa to fall in love

The first time you kissed Isa on the cheek was in public, and a rose bush exploded

Camilo and Mirabel would not stop teasing her about it

Isa is the one who works up the courage to ask you out after the urging of her family. The first time you kissed her flowers bloom along the length of Encanto, and everyone knows you said yes

Eventually you decide to stay in Encanto and become a member of the Madrigal family

Dolores

The Guzmans and Madrigals have always been close family friends

Dolores had been in love with Mariano since she was a child, he was the whole point she asked for a vision from Tío Bruno. She was heartbroken when she saw he would end up with Isabela

After the vision, she becan to pull away from Mariano - which was difficult. He was always over, and would always hang out with her and Isa

Dolores crushed from afar, often using her chores as an excuse whenever Mariano would approach

She craved his presence after she pulled away from his friendship, so she settled for listening to him (Callatè Camilo, she was not a creep -)

Mariano was confused and a little bit hurt when Dolores pulled away - was it something he did? His mamá always said he talked too loud. He liked Dolores, and he missed her quiet presence whenever he would talk about his poetry to her - Isa always got bored when he did.

Dolores would always go soft when Mariano would lower his voice when speaking to her, tell her about the newest novel that came out, show her his poetry he was composing that she already heard him whisper about it late at night

After Casita fell, Dolores and Mariano began spending lots of time together, relearning everything they knew about each other

Also, Mariano is the one that says "I hear you" and she says "And I see you" because for the first time, Mariano is hearing everything she has to say about him and Dolores has had enough of just listening to him and is right in front of him, telling him how she feels

Isabela is the best wingwoman ever

One of the reasons Isa didn't want to be with Mariano was that she grew up idolizing her parents quiet love; Mariano was the total opposite, with loud PDA, grand gestures, ect. This is why Dolores is more suited for Mariano - she grew up with her parents not being able to take their hands off each other and can't picture love any other way

Dolores put a kibosh on the whole "5 babies" thing. 3 kids was the highest she was going for, and Mariano eagerly agrees because who is he to deny his amor?

Dolores wants to take it slow when she's dating Mariano. She gets married midway through 23, and has a daughter at 24. She is 27 when she has another girl, and is 31 when she has a baby boy.

Félix, Camilo, and Antonio are thrilled to be an abuelo and tíos. Pepa is the only one to start clouding over when being called abuela because she doesn't want to be old

Luisa

After Casita fell, Luisa spent the time finding herself - her likes, hobbies, ect. She began growing her hair out, wear more jewlery, and wear more feminine dresses without fear of ripping them due to excessive work

Luisa knew that some people in the Encanto had talked about her body - how tall she was, how big she was, ect. It wasn't insulting, but there were some comments that did stick with Luisa throughout her teens and into adulthood

When she was younger "Luisa gets bigger everyday" was a common phrase in the household. One time Abuela said "We'll have to find the tallest person in Encanto for Luisa, or else she'll never get married!" and that always stayed with her

At the end of the day it doesn't matter to Luisa though. She has good days and bad days just like any other girl, and "she glows cause she knows what her worth is."

She met him when she was 20 years old

She was out lifting things for the final chores of the day when she feels a light tap on her shoulder

Luisa turns around and is met at the sight of a handsome young man, head brushing the top of her chest as he whips out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers she's ever seen

At first, Luisa thinks they're for Isabela (because they're flowers, and no one's ever given Luisa any flowers, and like hell was a man her age giving flowers to Mira)

The man and Luisa are both bright pink when he explains they're for her, and in a rare bout of confidence, Luisa flirts with him

This goes on for a while, the man showering her with gifts and compliments, Luisa flirting and sending him swooning

He starts joining Luisa when she's relaxing, and Luisa grows to love his company. Their dynamic is chattermouth and appreciative listener who loves how much they talk. He insists on helping her with her chores so she can get more time to relax, and Luisa always insists on him joining her with a blush

You can definitely imagine Luisa demonstrating her strength to him and he just whips out a wedding ring and asks her to become his wife because he is utterly weak for this woman

Luisa is sitting at the dinner table, smiling as she brushes her lips along the latest batch of roses he sent when she sees her Tía Pepa and her Tío Félix flirt, and suddenly she sees him

Luisa instantly sets out to find him, and when she does, she bends down and presses the most loving, tender kiss on his lips. Luisa carries him bridal style when his knees give out

Camilo

Camilo was 18 years old when he first began to notice her

He was in the town square with his Tía Julieta, helping cheer up some of the injured children while shoveling his face with food. A red skirt flashes by his vision, and thinking it was Dolores, he turns around and freezes

She was just finishing up her chores, strands of hair escaping her messy bun as sunlight bounced off her tan skin. She's honestly the most beautiful person Camilo's ever seen, and the arepa drops out of his mouth

Right as he begins to follow her, a shout of his name suprises him, and he turns to see a fuming Pepa thundering about the missing arepas. While he's getting chewed out, he turns around to catch one more glimpse of her, but she's gone

Later that night, Camilo can't stop thinking about the girl and sets out to find her the next day. It's easier than he thought it was - after he saw her yesterday, it's like he sees her everywhere: in the market getting groceries, in the square finishing her chores, ect.

He goes up, introduces himself, and is blown away: she's captivating. She's fiery and strongwilled, sassy and sarcastic. She matches Camilo’s quick wit with her own so easily it surprises him, and is unafraid to call him out on his pranks and is unimpressed by his shapeshifting

He was desperate to be her friend, so he wasted no time finishing his chores so he could spend time with her. He would tell jokes and shoot cheesy pickup lines after her, and while at first she considered Camilo overrated and a nuisance … he did manage to amuse his way into her heart

After they become friends, her and Camilo had this thing where they flirt and give each other bedroom eyes almost constantly, and they know that they like each other ... they’re just too afraid/awkward to actually do anything about it.

Everyone in the Madrigal family knows about them, and it drives them crazy. It gets to the point where Camilo acts lovesick when she’s not around - subconsciously thinking about her and bringing her up in conversations

Camilo will just be sitting down for family dinner, piling arepa after arepa on his plate, and is unaware of his family’s stares until he sits across from Isa. Isa clears her throat with a smirk matching Dolores’ and shows her primo a mirror (why she brought a mirror to dinner he’ll never know) and Camilo’s eyes widen in horror. In his reflection is her face. Camilo had unconsciously shapeshifted to look like her during family dinner (and Ay Dios Mío, does the family tear into him that day).

Honestly, Camilo was such a ladies man in Encanto, the family was starting to wonder if he was ever going to settle down. Seeing Camilo panic-shift and grow flustered at even the sight of this girl is the best thing to have happened to Isabela. She’s going to get back at Camilo twice as hard for teasing her with the whole Mariano situation

Not only do this girl and Camilo flirt and have fun with each other, they can be serious and confide with each other when needed. Camilo finds himself pouring about his deepest insecurities to her, and she listens, never judging how he feels, giving him the most caring and attentive face he’s ever seen, proving that she is listening to him, totally and completely

Camilo can listen for hours as she talks, feeling light as a feather listening to her voice, and watching her hands move as she gestures. This girl is the only person to make him blush. He's flirted with tons of people, done tons of things with people, and none of them make him feel the way she does

They weren’t each other’s firsts, but they were each other’s bests, her challenging Camilo in the best way and him showing her the brighter, looser side to life other than work

Mirabel

Mirabel is 20 when she met him

After Casita fell, she spent all her time dedicating herself to her family and making sure the town was independent. She helped her Abuela through her trauma, helped integrate Bruno into society after 10 years, and helped her entire family learn that they were more than just their gifts after decades of being taught otherwise. So you can see there was a lot on her shoulders for a 15 year old

Years passed since that fateful day Encanto broke and things were going well for that small town. Outsiders were more welcome and the community was more self-sufficient than ever. The Madrigal family was allowed to become a normal family, growing larger and larger now that the grandchildren were growing up.

Mirabel was walking around town, enjoying the candlelit night of Encanto when she heard the most magical voice sing

A musician is playing in the square, and people were crowding around him despite the late night. After Mira realized she wouldn't make it through the crowd, she quickly begins scaling a palma de cera Isa planted in town, desperate for a look at the voice.

She shoves some fronds out of her way and sees the most handsome man playing on his guitar, singing in his magical voice. He tips his head back and his eyes meet Mira's. She almost falls out of the tree, and once she steadies herself he seems to be smiling at her as he plays, eyes sparkling

After he finishes the song, he meets her as she ungracefully slides down the tree. Mirabel's face is hot as she offers if he wants to take a walk and get a snack. He agrees

Mirabel stumbles home in a daze, and she finds herself rambling to her mamá about him with a flushed face. Dolores overhears, which mean Camilo knows, which means that the entire family knows about her crush by dinner time

The family is definitely overprotective of Mirabel - she’s the baby of the family and their miracle. They got to make sure the guy she’s seeing is worthy of her and can handle the chaos of the Madrigal family

Whenever they’re alone in a room you can always count on Antonio watching them with death eyes, Dolores eavesdropping, and Isa, Camilo, and Luisa ready to break down the door whenever they sense something inappropriate going on

Their favorite moments are the quiet ones, where Mirabel is sewing or doing embroidery, while he is gently strumming along to his guitar and writing down lyrics

He is pleasantly surprised when he finds out Mira can play the accordion. When Mira sings his face turns bright red as he stares at her in awe. She starts dancing and he wants nothing more than to kiss this girl

He always makes sure to murmur soft endearments and compliments in Spanish. Although Mira knows her worth now, she still likes to hear how much she is needed and loved

Abuela always smiles when she sees them together because after Mira told her how they met, all she can see is her and Pedro

Antonio

Antonio is 15 when he met her

It’s been 10 years since Casita fell, and ever since then the Madrigal family has been growing and growing, with Dolores’ marriage to Mariano and the birth of their children and the rest of the grandchildren falling in love

Antonio met her when when his jaguar fell sick. He had tried to give him Tía Julieta’s cooking, but that only worked on humans, not animals. Antonio was starting to panic when Mirabel reminded him of the new family that moved in that happened to be veterinarians

The vets came to Casita to have a look at Parce, and Antonio is struck when he sees how pretty she is when she walks through the door

The girl and her papá heal up Parce, and it was like he was never sick at all, zooming around and nuzzling the humans in thanks

When they are about to leave, Antonio grabs her hand without even realizing it, and they both freeze. Shyly, Antonio offers to show her around his jungle room and his heart jumps when she agrees

Since then her and Antonio have become good friends; they both adored animals - she was fascinated by how the animals were drawn to him while he was fascinated by how she cared for them

Seriously, Camilo once walked in Antonio’s room to see an anaconda draped over their shoulders - he almost had a heart attack. (But why can’t we hold her, she’s friendly -)

Her and Antonio complimented each other in the best ways; she was bright and bold, and was able to draw Antonio out of his shy shell and he was able to gently calm her down when she would get too excitable

Pepa would always start whenever drizzling she saw both of them together - her little Toñito was growing up and falling in love, and him and her reminded Pepa so much of her and Félix she would always start crying

Antonio loved being her friend, so when he found himself falling in love with her, he panicked and began drawing in himself. Parce and the rest of his animals wouldn’t allow it. Antonio was embarrassed and mortified to see his animals not-so-subtly set him up with her - the coatis and toucans would steal their belongings so they would have no choice but to see each other, Parce would pointedly act extra affectionate with her, and there was that one time his anaconda literally wrapped herself around their waists to make sure they stayed together

The rest of the family thought it was adorable and would absolutely not help

She is the one to confess to him, in one of those quiet moments where Antonio was not surrounded by animals and her not feeling the need to fill the silence and enjoy the peace. She isn’t one to dance around a subject unless she’s oblivious, so out of nowhere she just says that she likes Antonio

Antonio has to wait for the meaning to sink in, but when it does, he sees her staring straight ahead, her face slowly turning red. Shyly, he says he likes her too. It’s an innocent and sweet confession, and when she leaned over and kissed him, it was the same as well

#Encanto #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #mariano madrigal #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #original character #aged up #encanto simp #Tell me if I should name oc’s #Casita my beloved #Encanto headcannons #dolores x mariano

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aerimomo-mellon · 3 years ago

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Skz as Boyfriends!

Paring~ SKZ x Reader

Genre~ informative lol

A/N~ yep it was requested! Enjoy 친구 <3

warnings? none. (idk mention of bed related things haha)

SKZ M☁List II Main M☁List

시장……..

✿ Bangchan

We all know this guy and you all have read enough of him I think, to know what imma say. (But for special purposes why not..)

This guy is really really serious about relationships and you are probably the one because he just can’t help loving everything about you.

The fact that he is yours even with all the responsibilities and work he has as a leader and idol is a miracle itself. Therefore consider yourself LUCKY to have the most caring and loving man anyone could have.

Dates- He likes movies hence movie nights and date to the theater are often. If not then he likes taking you to a sports event or the beach cause yeah. ( that vibesssssss you know? )

PDA = 3/10 why?, because as mentioned earlier he is responsible for many important things and he doesn’t want to have any misunderstandings about you and dislikes hate in general. That 30% I gave him was because he would only do PDA if really needed.

In Bed things? Umm not often actually but once in a while yes WHILE he would like it I’m sorry I mean LOVE it..

Con? Yep time! Sorry girl but that time you need, it’s hard for him to fulfill every time.

Cute extra info- Doesn’t mention it but secretly likes when you poke his dimple and say he’s cute.

✿ Minho

There are these majority conceptions, as I said majority but not all cause there are stays who know that he is a sweet guy deep deep down.😉

If you’re his s/o he will give every bit of him to you and expects the same for you. I would categorize him as a boyfriend wo acts like a mom lol. It maybe hard to digest that information but trust me this feeling I have from my gut I can say that he is also very caring. Although he might not say things like I will be there whenever you need me or even I miss you, care for you, but he doesn't need to say this anyway. As action speak more than words our Minho is the same.

Dates- He likes to balance it between what you like and what he likes as well. If you are a new couple he straight up asks what you prefer. Plus point he likes to take you to cat café if you like cats too.

PDA = 0.5/10 why? honestly speaking this guy literally hates to express his feelings. That .5 is literally him agreeing that he is yours and that's it. (when someone asks that is)

In Bed things? I personally think it depends on his mood and not yours. Yup. Somedays he wants you a lot and somedays he likes his space. I'm not saying he hates cuddling but more than that on days he is either tired or stressed he likes to keep that little limit to what happens next.

Con? Attention... you would literally take his cats away from him to get his attention.

Cute extra info- likes it when you call him and yourself Appa and Eomma to his cats.

✿ Changbin

Changbin being the puff/ strong guy(sorry that sounded disturbed lol) We all know how babied he likes to be.

Him as a boyfriend is just very natural, I mean from the way he takes you on a fancy date to even putting nail polish on your left hands. Everything is very genuine and he loves it. The Boyfriend to always apologize first.

I find him as someone to take attraction and the next step which is relationship very seriously. ( the person to be very calculative, it can beat Chan honestly..)Knowing that he is afraid to hurt people in any kind of way, to hurt you even as an accident breaks his heart.

Dates- Our Dwaekki loves taking you on dates with loads of food or snacks. A typical Korean restaurant or even food stalls, he loves seeing you eat than to be broken when you might have some kind of sickness due to eating problems.

PDA = 5/10 why? Because he likes your opinion. He is okay with either if you insist on a particular one but slightly leans on less public knowing. Holding hands and probably hugging you wouldn't be a huge problem for him.

In Bed things? he loves it anytime honestly... if he is horney he is getting what he wants and when you are same goes to you.. you'll get what you want..

Cons? Too much aegyo which makes you do things you don’t necessarily want to. (Stay blessed)

Cute extra info- Praise him! (x100) loves it when you say things like " my boyfriend is so strong.." or even " those arms mmm..."

✿ Hyunjin

I mean do I need to say how into he is with this??? Damn this man is the most prepared man a girl could have. The type to know everything about relationships... from trending couple fashion to even special not important but cute couple events..( that he probably found randomly scrolling through google)

He knows your anniversary, birthday, your moms birthday, dads and basically your whole family knows him too. He also keeps track of your monthly cycle too cause he likes being responsible for you..

He is the type to get jealous very easily BUT wont admit it when you ask. Likes to braid your hair while learning from YouTube.. Likes to buy you so many colorful cute hair accessories. (loves your hair..)

Dates- we all know this guy is fancy so he likes fancy dates but he can also be the complete opposite.. Fancy~ maybe to a art restaurant or even on a fancy boat cause why not.. Normally though~ likes to take you to an art museum or at night to take you on the roof for star gazing..

PDA = 2/10 why? I've probably given hints on my fictions with Hyunjin about this in particular. He prefers keeping this in private and that 20% is with his members (barely)

In Bed things? This guy couldn’t be more romantic lol. Loves being prepared for this buys every thing you both need… and yeah loves it.

Cons? He buys Kammi more hair clips than you sorry….

Cute extra info- likes when you get mad when he cut his hair lol. I apologize to all the stays I know he is cute every time but that long hair just hits different….

✿ Jisung

The craziest boyfriend you could have and will only have. You would low key love your relationship with this man I’m telling ya…

You two would have so much fun like toddlers. He is honestly the cutest, funniest, talented etc.. man you get all in one.. ahaha..

Likes to buy you the most stupid things that actually works for a daily living..( that thing he bought to watch on his phone while laying down 😵)

likes to joke around and talk to you a lot.. gurll listen to him he loves it. He likes to value your problems as well so listens to you too.

Dates- likes to watch anime so you two usually have this anime night cuddle sessions but if he were to plan something outside he would prefer to take you to the amusement part lol.

PDA = 8/10 why? honestly he likes showing you off cause he is fond of you. Basically doesn't care what others think... his parents know you, members, friends outside the group, and stays know you exist lol.. 20% i kept for a reason because he doesn't like it when things get out of handle so he wont do anything to the extent..

In bed things? yes he likes it but that turns up into a tickle fight or even a complete cringe but cute moment..

Cons? He might be very sensitive leading to him being upset and you having to apologize...

Cute extra info- loves it when you kiss his cheeks or just play with them in general..

✿ Felix

I had to bring this up at some point lol.. stays probably know the video where he says his clothes are boyfriend material lol...and yes i agree hands down!

A boyfriend material in his own way ahaha.. i mean we all know he loves to be cared for and loved. That Bangchan! spoiled little youngbok.. i personally feel or think two ways. Either he likes being cared for by you or he takes care for you since now he gets to be the older one..

Felix likes speaking in English so if you know English he would speak both languages as well. Likes to give you blowjobs cause he fell in love with you lol..

Dates- Shopping malls, window shopping, UNO on a picnic lol all these are his favs and so are yours .. Personally speaking he likes to take you to places where he can take lots of pictures of you..

PDA = 4/10 why? I don't know haha yup its just a feeling where I'm in between of two opposite thoughts.. I fell like he shows you to his members and family but not more than that.. (Olivia is most likely to love you)

In bed things? Likes being pampered and loves it when you lead.. happens pretty often actually..

Cons? yes! he like being touchy and so do you but he does it too much which beats ya.. and jealous really easily! and he lets you know that..

cute extra info- compliment him on his freckles and he will blush literally a tomato 🍅..

✿ Seungmin

Sweet really sweet.. he is the typical Korean boyfriend you'll get haha even better than that.

He just likes to talk to you or even look at you all day and keep that puppy smile on him.. The type to sing you a song to sleep or whenever you ask him to. likes to hear you sing too.. attempts to make you laugh but ends up, giving up.

He likes kissing your eyes when they are closed.. or when you just fell asleep after the song likes to give your eyes quick pecks..

Dates- He likes walks and that's why you go on evening walks and return when it's dark.. likes holding your hands. He likes grocery shopping with you, takes you to the rooftop to talk about life and its shitty problems.. Basically effortless things that make your relationship happy for what it is.

PDA = 1/10 why? I mean do I need to tell you this? he is like Minho but just a little bit more obvious.. Prefers to express his love when you two are alone..(that's it)

In bed things? umm yes but no.. i mean he gives in to your begs but I feel like Seungmin is just too into cute cuddling and these things are only when he is very desperate ..

Cons? not much but maybe ignoring you when you ask if he can buy you ice Cream for the fifty-sixth time..(but gives in anyway)

Cute extra info- He likes when he sees you in his clothes.. but doesn't say it and acts like he doesn't..

✿ Jeongin

Baby, baby, Baby..... he is our baby boyyyy but his savage ass towards his Hyungs just breaks it all hahaha…

Jk he is actually really cute, caring, sweet and likes to be protective. It may not suit him but yes he likes scolding people if done wrong to you..

You might be older or younger honestly he doesn’t care.. he is very respectful to you either way. He loves you and is very shy too which you find cute.

Dates- Asks you for your opinion or his Hyungs. He still is very inexperienced so he doesn’t know but sometimes likes it when you two spend time on the swings of some random park with fruit juice 🧃..

PDA = 0/10 why? Cause no no no no not even to his members haha he is just too shy and likes to keep his relationship in its own boundaries.

In bed things? Nope please! I’m sorry stays but I just can’t with Jeongin… (no further details he is just so precious to me)

Cons? He understands very late.. like you trying to say you want to cuddle, kiss etc.. without words he won’t get it. Just fucking be straight forward with our baby.

Cute extra info- honestly everything is cute about him so I can’t fit it here sorry… stays use your imagination here…

끝…

#skz bang chan #skz leeknow #skz minho #skz changbin #skz hyunjin #skz jisung #skz felix #skz seungmin #skz jeongin #skz headcanons #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz as boyfriends #skz fluff #skz angst

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

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Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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songbirdstyles · 5 years ago

Text

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’) and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And -

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar.

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him.

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned.

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is!

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does?

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.”

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat.

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response.

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different.

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth.

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation.

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more.

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #best friend!harry styles #loose ankles #lol #one of my fav things ive written #i got carried away during the smut.... sorry

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stray-kids-react · 3 years ago

Text

Trans s/o

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Was dating you before you came out to him, you were fully prepared for him to leave you. But to your surprise, Chan stayed with you and even encouraged you to get an appointment early for your transition.

° Will help you take your medication to help with the process, and if you get dizzy from it he will gladly pick you up and carry you to bed. He's a true gentleman, so he'll probably carry you to bed even if you aren't dizzy or tired.

° Helps you pick your new name, always finding the cutest ones or the most random ones. Like Flossy/Tangerine, but he tries he truly does. But at the end of the day you make the final call, and he respects that 110%.

"You're going to have to find a name that goes with Bang as a last name."

"That's why I'm not going with the names you picked out."

Lee Know

° Had a crush on you ever since you started working as a stylist, and he had absolutely no clue that you were transgender until he revealed his crush and someone told him that you were. He honestly didn't care that you were.

° Minho found it rude how the staff member that told him found him weird for still liking you, as if it is weird to like someone who is transgender. He wasn't interested in the staff member or considered them a friend, so why do they care?

° Soon realized that thier opinions of your transition wasn't just kept private and that they would harass you about it. So he went to JYP to try and at least make it so you were further away from her. But JYP genuinely didn't help.

"I'm just saying, it's weird since they aren't actually a-"

"It's weirder that you care so much, do you not have a life?"

Changbin

° Was your best friend before you started dating, he saw you transition and the struggles you went through in high school when the teachers would call you by your old name even though you constantly insisted to go by your new one.

° When you started dating, it never dialed to amaze him by how ignorant people can be. As if they think he doesn't know that his lover of 3 years is transgender. He knows, and he loves you no matter what.

° The last straw was when he was on a special interview with Jessi where she invited different idols. One of the being Siwon from suju, who is known to not be overly supportive of the lgbtq+ community. Which made Changbin upset.

"How can you date someone who is faking-"

"They aren't faking, if anything you are the fake one for putting on this nice guy act when you're really an asshole."

Hyunjin

(cutie)

° Will spoil you with any transgender items he can get, cute pikachu with the transgender colors? Bought. Pins? Bought. Flags? Ordered. Cakes? Already in the oven. You reassure him that he doesn't have to spoil you, but he wants to.

° Won't gush over your baby photos or hang them up if you are uncomfortable with looking at them, instead he'll gush over your current photos and hang up recent couple photos of the two of you. He even has a wedding collage ready.

° He can be dramatic, in a good way. So when you are being harsh on yourself saying you still look too much like a boy/girl. He will stand you infront of a mirror and tell you everything that's manly/feminine about you.

"You're my precious lil bean, don't be hard on yourself."

"Hyunjin, your ruining my foundation with you kisses *giggles*."

Han

° He had a crush on you for ages, you were Hyunjin's best friend and he met you through Hyunjin. Jisung grew fond of you after only a week of chatting to you, everyone noticed how blushy and mushy he got around you.

° Hyunjin never told him you were Trans because he thought you had already told Jisung yourself, but you didn't since you thought Hyunjin told him. This led to a semi confused Jisung when you were going through old photos.

° He didn't mind and still found you attractive, he was just surprised to see you in your old photos. You looked so uncomfortable in them and didn't look like yourself at all, he was honestly glad you came out of the closet.

"You look just as gorgeous and confident as you do back then."

"Can you not flirt with y/n when I'm right here?"

Felix

(I just want to ruffle his hair istg.)

° So proud of you when you come out to him, he cries so much that you are worried he is sad. But it's actually happy tears, because he's always had a suspicion for the last four months that something was off with you.

° Won't stop clinging onto you after you get the surgery done, he's just a smiley ball of fluffiness the whole time because he is so happy for you. But if you ask him for anything cause your sore or don't feel well, he's up and doing it in a flash.

° Felix is the type who wouldn't care about gender or sexuality, as long as they are interested in him and have a good personality then he would love them endlessly. So you will blush often from the way he gazes at you like you're his universe.

"God, I'm the luckiest man alive to be with you. You're so perfect, now let me snuggle you."

"You're so cheesy sometimes, you're lucky you're cute and can pull it off."

Seungmin

° When you came out to him and your family, he was surprised but still loved you just as much. He didn't think it should effect the way someone feels about you, but apparently your parents had different opinions on the matter.

° One week later and you had the last of your boxes in Seungmin's dorm. Your parents gave you one week to move out, not wanting someone part of the community to live under there household and be seen by their friends.

° You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt, it did you sobbed every night. But as long as Seungmin was beside you, everything was going to be okay. You don't know what you would've done without him, you felt lucky that way.

"I can't believe they are ashamed of me."

"It's there loss, you're the best person on this planet. Skz and I are happy to have you."

Jeongin

° Jeongin was your ex boyfriend's best friend, he watched you get cheated on and verbally abused by his so called "friend". The last straw for him was when you came out and all your boyfriend did was scoff and dump you on the spot.

° Jeongin pretty much took you under his wing and babied you until you were over that asshole. He even deleted his contact and phone number from his phone, realizing how bad he was when he saw how he treated you.

° 5 months later and you and Jeongin are happily dating, and making you feel like the royalty he sees you as. You both never heard from your ex ever since that day, but when Jeongin took you to a grocery store to get some snacks. You both bumped into him.

"So I see you're getting my sloppy seconds."

"You're the only sloppy one here dumbass."

#stray kids #kpop #skz scenarios #stray kids reactions #changbin #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #bang chan #lee know #Lee felix #felix skz #skz seungmin #trans reader #thunderous

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byulsgrease · 3 years ago

Note

if you arent too busy, can you write a idol!hwasa x idol!reader, wherein they both have to practice with each other for a special stage. However on the first meeting they become starstruck and cant believe somethings are real, but soon warm up to each other?

i'm not terribly busy but this still took a while anyway oops - sorry this took so long anon! here you go :D

if anyone has requests for the other members hmu cuz I've got 2 more hyejin reqs after this one (not that I'm complaining)

"who says we can't do something on our own?"

(hwasa x idol!reader, ~1.2k words)

cw: food + alcohol mention (y'all know how it is)

I named someone Minjeong - it's not Aespa's Winter, idk anything about 4th gen gg's - 민정 is my Korean name so it's just what came to mind

"Hey, wake up. You've gotta see this. GET UP," a voice piercing through the fog of your sleep.

What a rude awakening. Your shoulders being shaken vigorously by a pair of small hands meant they belonged to none other than Minjeong, your youngest group member. You rolled over to glare menacingly at her with one eye open, trying to pull your brain out of the slumber. All you could see was the bright light of her phone shining in your eyes - a video of some kind. But then you heard the audio:

"Have you seen the clip?" asked the interviewer.

"Yes, my members and many MooMoos made sure I saw it"— Moos? Oh, it's Hwasa. WAIT. Both your eyes flew open as you sat up and snatched Jeongie's phone out of her hand to stare at the video. Your mind immediately flashed back to the interview you did last week - they asked who you most wanted to collaborate with, if there were no limitations. Your ears started to heat up at the sheer thought of the flustered mess of an answer you gave - of course you said Hwasa. Both of you debuted relatively close to each other, within a year, but never interacted much over the years. Mamamoo as a group was a force to be reckoned with, but there was just something about Hwasa specifically. You mostly just admired her unique singing voice and undeniable stage presence, and her relentless drive to always be herself in an industry constantly trying to fit women into a box.

Finally snapping out of re-living that embarrassment, your attention turned back to the phone in your hand. The interviewer must've asked her to send a message in response to you, because you couldn't believe that she was waving and saying, "How haven't we gotten to know each other better over all these years? I'd love to work with you on something sometime," curtly dipping her head in a slight bow.

"SEE? You needed to see that," Minjeong rushed to say, full of energy. "And close your mouth, your jaw's on the floor," jokingly pointing.

You side-eyed her and shut your mouth. "Is this what Loco felt like when she called him during Hyena on the Keyboard?" you wondered aloud.

"At least she's not calling you while on camera," she commented, knowing full well that you'd probably embarrass yourself again if she did. "But hey, at least she noticed you! Can I have my phone back now?" It would be a dream come true to collaborate with her, but cross-company collabs... always a pain. that couldn't be helped. The fantasy abruptly ended with demands from your rumbling stomach. Done with your what-if's, you placed the phone back in your maknae's outstretched hand to get up and make breakfast.

~~~~

With award show season rolling around, the crazy scramble of rehearsing for special live stages without leaking sets and collabs began. Checking your email that morning showed a schedule to record the backing track for a special live stage, but that was it. With who? You texted your members a screenshot, but they all told you that block of time in their schedule was empty. A solo stage? The solo mini-album you released this cycle did relatively well, the title track got a music show win, but not a multi-week chart-topper by any means. Possibilities turning over in your mind, you stepped out from your place to head to the company, totally in the dark about what was in store.

The recording studio always smelled the same along with the couches, a comfort for all the insanely long nights and crack-of-dawn early mornings over the years. With a bit of time to kill, you plopped down on one and gingerly patted the worn cushions as some kind of symbolic thank-you for supporting you (literally).

A hesitant but loud knock sent your gaze directly to the door. Watching it slowly open, you leaned forward to see who it was. Needless to say, your jaw fell to the floor again as you clapped a hand over your gaping mouth, eyes widening. Like a soldier obeying a command, you immediately stood up as straight as possible and bowed profusely at Hwasa, sporting a very similar expression on her face (which you failed to notice, your mind running a million miles a minute).

After a series of frantic bows and miscellaneous utterances to each other, she spoke. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said with calm, surveying your frenzied state. "I guess we're granting that collab wish from your interview, huh?"

The red-hot embarrassment leapt to your face. "I...I definitely made a fool of myself answering that question. And our maknae showed me your interview clip too, which was cool, but never did I think it would actually happen," you stammered. I should probably stop talking.

"Well, here I am," she half-smiled coolly. "Let's get started, I'm really looking forward to finally work with you on this," a gleam in her eye and a hint of excitement in her voice.

The studio suddenly felt a lot smaller with her in it, despite there only being your managers, the producer, and the both of you - less people than you and your members alone. Both of you remained relatively quiet the whole time, rather unsure of what to say or talk about. You watched enough MMMTV to know that all the members on their own were shyer than together, and Hwasa knew the same was true for you. But the work basically took care of itself, seamlessly taking turns in the recording booth, witnessing each other's work style and process. The both of you knew your way in front of a mic, seasoned professionals by now. Upon wrapping up, you bowed politely to each other after a quick exchange of KaTalk info, a short and sweet goodbye.

That was... anticlimactic. I mean, it's finally happening - I can't believe it. But maybe I was too idealistic about maybe creating a meaningful relationship with her outside of work... What does she think of me?

~~~~

In the days leading up to the collab stage, you kept going back and forth on whether to reach out or not, despite now being in possession of her contact info. What would you even say? Thoughts of a witty one-liner or relatable meme came to mind, but maybe she'd assume the worst - that you were clout-chasing, or something. Anxieties abuzz, your phone vibrated in your pocket. The KaTalk notification sprawled across your screen. Speak of the devil, it's her.

"Hey, awards season has me stressed. I know you must pretty busy right now too, but I somehow get off early tomorrow if you wanna grab dinner after work?" You had to reread that one. Oh, what? She's inviting me?

Trying not to be weird about responding too quickly, you typed out, "Wow, yeah, that sounds great! ^^ wait, your company doesn't care about you going out to eat during award season?"

"nah, they stopped having that kind of control over us a while ago, we are the money-maker of the company, after all 😏"

"so I guess this means they don't check your phone either ㅋㅋㅋ"

"nope :)"

You proceeded to set a time and place to meet, someplace with meat.

In the process of feasting on an inordinate amount of gopchang imbued with a splash of beer, you learned a fair amount about each other. You talked career, professional aspirations, the weird habits of your members, and more. What surprised you most was the amount of things she already knew about you, having admitted to watching some of your behind-the-scenes content after seeing your interview clip.

"Ah... I'm sorry if I came across as distant during that first recording session," she confessed, pausing to sip her beer. "I honestly didn't know what to do with myself, I felt a little star-struck."

"Oh what?? I felt the exact same, so no worries - and sorry if I came off similarly distant," you rambled back. A bit of silence fell between you, acknowledging the mutual sentiment. You spoke up after a bit, "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"Thank you for making the time, I had fun getting to know you better," she articulated with a smile. "Maybe it'll make the collab stage better," she added on jokingly. You responded with a nod and expression of mutual affirmation.

~~~~

After that, messaging each other became a regular occurrence, that gopchang outing having broken the ice. Honestly, you tried your best to talk about anything besides work, but the baseline of shared understanding connected you in a way that came more naturally than it did with your non idol friends.

You stood across the way from her at the sound check for the final stage, dressed in joggers and slides. Funny to think that you'd be recording this for real in a couple hours, making eyes with the blinking red light on the cameras surrounding you. It sucks that fans wouldn't get to experience the energy and atmosphere of the performance - Hyejin alone is one thing, but adding someone else into her stage presence? Unmatched. There's nothing quite like a live performance - and while you knew everyone in the industry dealt with the consequences of the pandemic, it certainly took a toll to perform and not feel the energy from fans. But realistically, nothing you could do about it. The sound check went over smooth like butter. The stage chemistry came flowing naturally between you both, even when bare-faced and dressed in just sweats.

And when the time came for the actual filming, you both absolutely killed it, an upbeat mash-up of TWIT and your title track. At the very end came a sliver of hesitation before throwing your arms around each other with a big smile for the ending fairy, proud of the work you accomplished together, and a mental fist-pump to yourself for making friends with one of the industry's finest.

Once again walking to a restaurant that served mostly meat to celebrate, you playfully proposed, "We... should do that again sometime." A little puff of air came out her nose in amusement.

"Yeah, we should. Too bad we're gonna have to wait a whole cycle before we can release anything else together again," she sighed longingly.

"Who says we can't do something on our own?"

#did not know how to end oops #mamamoo x reader #hwasa x reader #mamamoo hwasa #ahn hyejin #hwasa fanfic #hwasa imagines #hwasa #mamamoo fic #mamamoo imagines #mamamoo scenarios #girl group fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop #kpop fic #gg fic #gg fanfic #requested

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ohmycenchaheart · 3 years ago

Text

What started out as a headcanon, ended up becoming, well, this.. Cha Young is overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu as she strolls around the upscale men’s clothing store, waiting as her boyfriend gets fitted for his new Booralro suit.

Honestly now, the man is quite rich, not to mention has a good number of gold bars to his name, and yet he wants her to buy him his new suit. All because of a stupid bet they made during one of their makgeolli nights. Okay, so she may have somewhat grudgingly admitted that even the simplest, most basic pasta made by him, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in this case, tasted better than the one Chef Toto served at Arno. She had tried to reason her way out — it was probably the wine he paired the pasta with that enhanced the taste. Alas, the soft moan that escaped her, as flavours of garlic, parsley and olive oil exploded in her mouth in the first bite itself, was enough to have Vincenzo smirk in victory like the insufferable git he can be when he wins. And that had been that.

They should have stuck to their old finger flick bets, she muses as she walks past a glass display of cuff links and tie pins. Except finger flicks weren’t just finger flicks anymore. Sometimes, they were soft kisses on the forehead, and sometimes, a little something more. It wasn’t something either of them minded; in fact, these bets often became playful excuses. But one day, in a silly fit of competitiveness, Cha Young had declared they up the stakes. And that’s how she finds herself in this fancy store once again, the same one where she’d bought him his suit and pen after their first court victory together, waiting as Vincenzo tries on yet another suit. In hindsight, she should’ve suggested the loser buy bungeoppang instead. Oh well..

“It’s for the party next week,” he’d insisted, at which Cha Young had merely scoffed. The man would do anything for a new Booralro suit. But it was a party she was looking forward to, a fancy one at the Italian Embassy to which her partner had snagged invites. And she had treated herself to a new dress using the same excuse, so it was a bit hypocritical of her, wasn’t it?

She walks over to the corner that houses a display of silk ties, all meticulously organised by colour, prints and size, where a light blue paisley tie catches her eye, and she asks one of the store attendants to take it out of the display for her. She can't remember if she’s ever seen him wear a paisley tie before, but the tie is beautiful. It’s soft and the print delicate, but it’s the colour that catches her fancy. It’s a light greyish blue, a colour she knows would go well with either of the three suits he’s shortlisted. But more importantly, and she won’t admit this to him, well not yet at least, the colour is almost the same shade of the dress she bought. She’d always found the idea of couples matching their outfits amusing, however, in that moment she’s willing to concede that there’s something sweet about it after all.

“Byeonhosa-nim, ” Vincenzo calls out to her as he steps out of the fitting room, closely followed by the store attendant who had been assisting him with the fitting. Cha Young tries not to roll her eyes at the employee who trails after her boyfriend with a starstruck look akin to the one adoring fans have upon meeting their favourite idol. “How’s this one,” he asks as he adjusts the cuffs of his suit.

She walks over to him, first running her hands over his shoulders and then smoothing the lapels of his jacket. Stepping back, she gives him a once over, and ignoring the fluttering in her heart, replies as nonchalantly as she can, “I think it should do the trick.” When the store attendant enthusiastically gushes about how good the suit looks on Vincenzo, Cha Young graces him with a glare that is enough to remind him that he needs to go and look after the other non-existent visitors in the store.

Finally without an audience, she holds up the tie with a slight flourish and asks, “what do you think?”

For a moment, she’s worried that perhaps the tie doesn’t match up to his high standards. The man does have impeccable taste, and is quite fussy about his clothing. Her little moment of doubt vanishes when Vincenzo smiles. “Yeppeuda.” It’s pretty.

“Here, let me,” she says as she closes the gap between them and reaches out to do up the top buttons of his shirt (a pity, really, because she loves it when he leaves his collar unbuttoned), smirking at the way Vincenzo gulps when her fingers are at the collar of his shirt. Besotted man that he is, he lowers his head in submission so that she can place the tie around his neck.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“A couple of times..”

When he raises his eyebrows, Cha Young realises what he might have misunderstood it as.

“For Abeoji,” she sheepishly clarifies. What she doesn’t tell him is that she would always loop the tie around her neck first, tie it, loosen it and then hand it over to her father. She had never tied a tie for someone on their person this way.

She adjusts the length of the tie (she thinks she’s got the length right), crosses the wider end over the thinner one, then passes it from the back the other side and then.. Damn it, what do you do next? Cross it over from the other side? Loop it all over again? She tries to remember the next step, forehead scrunched up in concentration, trying to jog her memory. It doesn’t help that Vincenzo’s cologne serves as a distraction. Feeling his gaze on her, she looks up.

“What are you looking at?”

You. “Your tie tying. I’m trying to figure out what knot you’re going to go for. Say, Byeonhosa-nim, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yah! I’m just.. trying to recollect. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Ahh.”

“…”

“Pass the wide end through the gap between the tie and the collar, and take it to the right side. That’ll be your left.”

“Mhmm. Like this?” “Yes. Now wrap the wide end across the thinner end, and then pull the wide end through the gap between the tie and collar like before. But don’t pull it too tightly. See that loop on top of the knot? You’ll need to—“

Before he can finish, she’s already sliding the wide end of the tie through the said loop, and pulling it tight.

“Yes, yes, I know. Now hold still, let me just adjust this.”

As she goes about making the final adjustments to the tie, pulling it tighter and fixing it into place, an old memory flashes in Cha Young’s mind — one of her mother tying a tie for her father in a similar manner, and Hong Yu Chan looking down at his wife with an adoring smile, very much like how Vincenzo is looking at her in this moment. She never understood why her mother did that, or why her father let her when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, or why the late lawyer pretty much gave up wearing a tie (unless it was absolutely necessary) after the death of his wife.. but now she gets it.

“There, all done.”

She turns around, so that both her and Vincenzo are facing a full-length gilded mirror, and he can review her handiwork.

“That’s not a bad Half-Windsor, you know.. especially for your first try”

“A what now?”

“The knot. It’s called a Half-Windsor. It’s the one I usually go for. Either that, or a Four-in-hand..”

“Ooh. Are you giving me a crash course in tie knots now?”

“Well, it never hurts to know about different knots, you know. They can come very handy,” he adds suggestively, to which he promptly gets smacked in the shoulder with a “Yah!”

“I do think the length’s a bit off though. It needs to be longer. You’re going to need some practice, Byeonhosa-nim. I guess you’ll just have to do this for me a few more times again,” he tells her, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

As they stand there in front of the mirror, their reflected gazes locked on each other, both of them all smiles, Cha Young thinks there’s something so intimate about moments like these, and it leaves her feeling warm.

Still looking at her in the mirror, Vincenzo leans down a little, an arm going around her waist, and whispers in her ear, “Interesting choice of colour, by the way,” and ohhh he knows. He knows why she picked this particular tie. Their reflections show his smile getting wider as her eyes widen in surprise.

A second later, Cha Young turns in her place, and gently tugging on his tie, pulls Vincenzo down to her and places a soft kiss where his neck meets his jaw. Satisfied with his flustered expression, she innocently smiles at him.

“I think you look very handsome, Jagiya. Now, I’m going to go pay for this. But you’re buying me lunch, so hurry..” And as she skips towards the billing counter, she leaves a besotted fool in her wake, who stares at her in a manner that can only be described as the human equivalent of the heart eyes emoji. What a pair of lovestruck idiots these two make..

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #chayenzo #chacenzo #cencha #vincenzo x hong cha young #headcanon #fanfiction #vincenzo headcanons #vincenzo fanfic #tvn vincenzo #kdrama fanfic

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flooffybits · 4 years ago

Text

Stay A While

Idol: Ha Sooyoung, Jung Jinsoul (Loona)

Anon: Yay. Okay so how about one with LOONA’s 13th member? Yvesoul are in a happy relationship and the 13th member who is especially close with them has feelings for both. She doesn’t say anything though, worried about making things awkward or interfering in what is already a happy relationship. So instead, she starts distancing herself to hide the symptoms. She doesn’t want to get surgery cause she can’t imagine not feeling the way she does but she also refuses to tell anyone so she starts getting worse and worse. Heejin, Lip and Chuu find out at some point by accident. The 13th member is really stubborn. Lots of angst and hurt feelings and protective members please. And a happy ending please (I was going for only angst but I’m too weak 😂) thank you so much in advance.

A/n: well since you asked so nicely 😂 i really tried to think of a way with making this interesting so i hope you enjoy! it’s really hard making this a happy ending but please ignore the crappy ending if you wish

Warning: blood, near death experience (sorta), heavy angst

☕buy me a coffee☕

You were known to be Loona's biggest fan, aside from Jiwoo, and your members and fans knew just how much you'd practically do anything for all of them.

It was what made you so likeable and the fans loved it when you would also try to hype them up whenever you get the chance to see them, making them feel as though you were the one who came to see them instead.

Your selflessness was one of your greatest strengths, but as time passed, it began to serve as your greatest weakness.

A little after Sooyoung and Jinsoul had officially informed all of you about how they were dating, you were beginning to feel a bit off whenever you saw them. It made your chest tighten and your throat itches as though something was stuck in there.

But you were extremely supportive of the pair even before they had gotten together. While they tended to act like cat and mouse, you were always there to make sure neither girls went too far or simply became the subject of their teasing when they wanted, claiming that you were the maknae of your unofficial subunit.

It took you time to understand what was happening to you. While you didn't think about it at first, you were actually very fond of the pair, enjoying their company and the way they took care of you. While they did love to annoy you, Sooyoung and Jinsoul did their best to take care of you and look after you whether or not you were aware of it.

When the first petal came falling on the palm of your hand right as the pair informed you how they were going out for a date, you brushed it off, confused as to where the yellow petal had come from. But a couple hours after that, you find yourself lightheaded and weak as your coughing begins to worsen.

Haseul was quick in giving you some cough medicines and ordered that you get some rest even as you assured her you would be fine.

"Stop being so stubborn and get some rest. I bet you were staying up with Jinsoul and Yves again." The mention of the pair caused another itching sensation in your throat but you had done your best to suppress it, at least until your leader had left you alone in your room.

As soon as she was gone, you quickly covered your mouth as you entered another coughing fit, one that made you feel even worse than you already were.

But as soon as you pulled your hand away, you stared, horrified at the blood stained petals that stared back up at you.

When everyone had gotten home, you made sure to stay in bed, pretending to sleep whenever someone came into the room, but no matter how much you tried, there was no ridding you of the thoughts that swam through your mind, all centered around the petals you had flushed down the toilet and the blood you had to wash from your hands.

You knew what the disease was, what caused it. But all this time, you had merely thought it was a myth, nothing but a made up fable.

And yet you were a living proof that the disease did exist and that it was slowly eating away inside of you.

You didn't dare tell any of your members about it because you know that they would fall into panic. And with Haseul having only just recovered, you didn't want to make her go through another difficult event, especially not one that involved you possibly dying if you didn't find a way to rid yourself of disease.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Sooyoung came up to you once when you were eating lunch, alone, and you honestly weren't too sure if you were in the mood to talk. "You've been awfully quiet lately and we were wondering if there was something bothering you." She explains while you poked your food and avoided her inquisitive gaze. "Yeah, just a little tired."

That had been your answer most days. And while that was true, you couldn't exactly tell her the whole truth.

Her expression becomes pensive without you looking because there was clearly much more that you weren't saying. "Y/n, if you need help, we're always going to be here for you. Jinsoul and I might be dating and everything, but that doesn't mean we don't have time for you anymore." She says while reaching out to touch your arm and you do your best not to recoil and tear your arm away.

Instead, you slap on a smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes, before nodding your head. "I know, Yves unnie. Don't worry."

Sooyoung stares at you for a moment, clearly saddened by your reply because, one, she knows that you were lying. It was clear as day. And, two, you had stopped calling her Yves two months after you had debuted and got to know all of them, unless it was during interviews and filming.

She mutters a quiet okay before watching you exit the dining area and head to the bathroom.

While Sooyoung left to find her girlfriend, you grip at the sink as your body shakes violently, yellow and red quickly filling your vision when more of the flowers come falling from your mouth and you desperately try to wash them away, getting rid of any and all traces of your suffering, before you sit on the cold floor, back against the door as you bury your face into your hands to muffle the sobs that replaced the petals that left your lips.

It had been nearly two months since you found out you were suffering from the disease. Nothing you tried was able to ease the pain nor was anything enough to help you get rid of it. Each day was only making you feel worse and weak that it was a surprise how none of your members had caught on yet.

Maybe it was because you kept your time away from your members, reading and searching about any known cures until you decided that asking a professional would be where you would get the best possible answer.

They were surprised when you revealed to them the truth. While they knew that it was a very rare disease, finding out that you, a young idol, was suffering from it had them all trying their best to help you in whatever help they could offer until the doctor you had consulted explained to you the complications of getting the surgery.

The surgery, you had no problem doing. You were more than willing to go through with it, but when he told you that you would grow numb toward the person, or in your case people, along with the potential of forgetting those who were the root of your unrequited love, the idea was quickly thrown out the window.

Even when you tried to deny the fact that maybe you were feeling much more love for Sooyoung and Jinsoul than you were supposed to, you couldn’t push through with it. To be numb and risk forgetting two of the most precious people to you? That would not only be too much for you, but it would be heartbreaking for everyone else around you. And in the event you do forget your members, that would cause much confusion to everyone else.

You quickly declined after that and simply settled with painkillers just so it wouldn’t affect you as badly whenever you had a coughing fit.

You avoided the couple as much as possible because, to you, the less you saw them, the slower the petals would fill your lungs. It also meant avoiding the rest of your members as much as possible because you weren’t so keen with anyone finding out.

But once during practice, the sound of Jiwoo’s voice calling your attention had nearly caused your heart to drop in your stomach. “Yah! I told you to stop picking at your lips!” You flinched at both her words and the volume of her voice before a hand pulled yours away from your lips when you quickly went to wipe away the bit of blood after another couple of petals decided to present themselves to you.

Whenever you were around others, you always opted to dress in either black or darker clothing in the event the blood tried to stain them, making it easier to avoid suspicions.

You blink owlishly toward the older girl and rubbed the back of your head. “Sorry, force of habit.” You apologize before Jungeun was grabbing a towel to wipe it away. Heejin was already shaking her head as the ‘99 liners started to lecture you about the stupid habit you’ve actually gotten rid of. “What’s wrong though? I know that you only do that when you’re anxious about something.” She asks while peering at your face, only to see that there was no wound present on your lip after Jungeun pulled her hand away.

She had to take a closer look and you felt yourself begin to feel nervous with how close she was being, your heart thudding against your ribs while Jungeun made a sound of surprise by the younger girl’s sudden bold move.

“Yah! What are you doing?” The blonde questioned as she shook your roommate’s arm, but Heejin was adamant to find out what was going on as she took your arm gently, concern now all over her face as she looked at you properly, ignoring the weird stares sent her way.

But her attention is solely on you when she doesn’t budge. “What’s going on?”

You aren’t sure what to tell her. Aside from being your roommate, Heejin was the next person you were closest to aside from Sooyoung and Jinsoul. When you weren’t with the pair, you were with her and Hyunjin or Jiwoo, thus the reason fans shipped you so much.

Majority of the time you don’t spend with either Jinsoul and Sooyoung, you spend with Heejin and you basically tell her everything. The first time you met, Heejin decided to take care of you the best she could, and the longer time she spent with you, the more that feeling grew because she saw you so much like a sister.

"Are you really okay? What's going on?" She asked quietly and you don't know what to tell her. Even if you did lie, it was easy for them to detect it and they would pry the answer out of you no matter what. You try looking around in hopes of distracting them, but when you find none, you know that there was no escape.

However when you notice Jinsoul about to come over, you squeezed Heejin's wrist before shaking your head. "Not here, please." You plead, and the three girls look even more worried with your panicked state, seeing that Jinsoul was getting closer, her eyes narrowed on you and Heejin.

Reluctantly, the latter accepted your request and Jiwoo pouted at you. "Y/n, you better be okay." She tells you. "I don't want anything happening to you." She adds and you smile weakly, because you know this would absolutely break her heart once she finds out.

"I'll explain everything, later." Unless they forget, you know that it was inevitable at this point.

When Jinsoul is close enough, she takes a quick look at you and you offer her a small smile. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asks curiously and Heejin wraps her arms around you with a smile. "Yep! We were just playing around like usual." She replies when she sees the slight panic in your eyes. Knowing your relationship with both Jinsoul and Sooyoung, the potential of you being in trouble was something Heejin knew you wanted to avoid bringing up with the two older girls.

But with the protectiveness Heejin was showing had only agitated the older girl as she stared at you and Jungeun cut her off quickly by stepping in front of you. “Unnie, come on. Let’s get back to practice. I think our break is almost done.” With one more look at you, you sent the blonde a thankful smile as she pulled Jinsoul away.

Jiwoo stared at you for a while before pulling you into a hug. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk about it.” She mumbled against your shoulder and you gave her a smile as well when she pulled away and squeezed her hands.

With Heejin left with you, her concern was still visible in her eyes, but she decided it was best to let you explain when you’ve collected yourself and that you were in a less crowded space.

Haseul quietly stared at you with her brows pinched together in worry. When she didn’t see you with the rest of the group, she quickly went to wake you up, thinking that you may have overslept, only to find you curled up in bed, shivering with a high fever.

“I think we should call our manager.” Kahei’s quiet voice broke through the silence and the leader nodded absentmindedly as she reached to fix the blanket around you. “She hasn’t been feeling well this whole week. Has she been skipping meals or anything?” But the older girl merely shook her head. “I don’t think so. She’s been spending a lot of time with Heejin, but I doubt she has.”

There’s a light knock on the door and Yeojin soon comes in with a basin filled with water and a towel. Chaewon and Yerim were quick to follow before they settled on the other beds inside the room.

“Thank you.” Haseul took the basin and placed it on your nightstand, wringing the towel before she was wiping your face and forehead, dipping it back in the water and repeating her earlier action before placing it on your forehead to hopefully bring down your fever.

“What about our schedules later?” Chaewon asked softly and Haseul let out a sigh. “I don’t think unnie is capable of even getting out of bed. She’s too sick.” Yerim whispered as she watched you from the side and Yeojin nodded her head. “But I don’t want to leave unnie alone, either.” The maknae voiced out before Kahei gently patted her head. “We’ll think of something, don’t worry. We’ll even get her some medicine and food on the way back.”

A little before your schedule, Haseul has already contacted your manager to inform them about your condition and they agreed to let you rest after being informed of how badly you were feeling. And while everyone was busy getting ready, Heejin sat next to your bed, taking the seat Haseul occupied that morning and stared sadly at you.

“We need to tell them, Y/n. This isn’t going to do anything but make you worse.” She whimpered while gripping your hand and you crack a small smile. “You know I can’t do that. And even if I did, it’s not going to change anything. I’d rather go through with this without making anyone feel bad about me dying.”

But your words had managed to force tears in her eyes as she shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.” She pleaded while trying to keep her voice from cracking and you squeeze her hand the best you could. “I can’t lie about this, Heejin. You, Chuu unnie, and Lip unnie know that I refuse to get the surgery and that it’s probably too late already.”

“But what if there’s another way. There has to be another way.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince; you or herself. Heejin has known you since for a good two years, but those two years has already cemented you into her life and she has never imagined losing you so soon, especially not like this.

You try to say something, but once again, a cough interrupts and Heejin tightens her hold on your hand when the other is colored with the blood stained petals of yellow Carnations. She tries not to look at them, bringing the trash bin closer after handing you some tissues to conceal the petals, and then wiping her cheeks from the tears that had trailed down her skin.

She grabs another towel to wipe your hand before she sets it down next to the basin with a heavy sigh.

The door quietly opens behind her and Jinsoul peers inside, surprised when she sees the girl before she offers a small smile while stepping in, her girlfriend following close behind with a frown on her face. “How is she feeling?”

Heejin looked over her shoulder and she tried to keep her composure when she spoke. “She’s okay, just really tired.” She replies when she turns back to you, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest after finally calming down from your wheezing.

Sooyoung stays standing while Jinsoul sits down to look at you closer. There’s a pang in their chest when they see you looking so small and fragile. Your face lacked color - life. It was like staring at a corpse, minus the breathing and it was terrifying to imagine, yet they didn’t know better.

Not the way Heejin did.

And seeing the way the younger girl held your hand and looked incredibly distraught by your condition had caused the pair to be even more suspicious than they already were.

“She’s going to be alright, Heejin.” Jinsoul says quietly, the smile still present on her features while Sooyoung purses her lips and Heejin bites her tongue to stop herself from saying anything.

No matter how badly she wanted to tell them, the faint squeeze to her hand reminded her that this was your decision to make. She was merely there to be your support system when no one else could.

But to see both Sooyoung and Jinsoul be so clueless yet speak so optimistically about you getting better made her nearly forget that she had promised not to tell anyone about your illness.

So instead of saying anything, Heejiin merely kept her mouth shut while she waited for the rest to call the three of them or for the two to leave her alone with you. But it seemed like they had other plans.

“Is there… anything going on between you and Y/n?” Sooyoung suddenly questioned after a few seconds of silence and the girl seemed a bit taken aback by her question before Jinsoul quickly intervened. “We’re not trying to be nosy! We just noticed how you’ve been so close recently and wondered if, maybe, you were…”

Heejin seemed dumbfounded by the assumption. In other circumstances, she would have laughed because, while she did love you to bits, that love was merely platonic.

“No. Y/n and I are pretty much like sisters so I doubt we’d ever be anything more.” She answered and the couple looked a bit tense now that she properly assessed them. “I know that a lot of people think and assume that we might be together, but that’s really not the case.” She explains with a shake of her head before she noticed you shifting in bed.

The movement catches the couple’s attention and they immediately look at you when your quiet voice cuts in on their conversation. “Heejin, I’m cold.” Sooyoung’s frown deepens before she was already heading to your closet and grabbing the thickest jacket that you had, which was something Jinsoul had given you on your first birthday with all of them.

“Do you want something to drink?” Heejin asked while brushing your hair from your face, replacing the towel on your forehead with a new one and Jinsoul shifted closer to gently touch your arm. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” She murmured softly when she saw the grimace on your face and Sooyoung came back to gently put your jacket around you without moving you too much.

Heejin makes sure the heater is working, and when it’s time for them to go, she’s hesitant to leave your side in fear of losing you when she’s away.

“Come on, we have to go.” Hyunjin called after her, but when she saw the way her friend couldn’t seem to move from her place, she could feel just what the other did. So, she quietly walked over and rubbed her arm in assurance. “Don’t worry, when we come back, we don’t have to leave her alone again.”

The promise, though having good intentions, was obviously empty for Heejin. In the event that your illness took you away, there was no guarantee that you would be staying for long.

Jungeun and Jiwoo came in with frowns on their faces as they saw you, but they quickly masked their worries upon seeing Hyunjin in the room with you. “Hey, we have to get going or else we’ll be late.” Jungeun informs them and Hyunjin nodded before she gave her friend another pat on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll be back before you know it.”

Jiwoo glanced beside her and Jungeun kept her phone in her hand as Heejin anxiously stared out the window. They were finally heading home after five hours and the three were quietly hoping to arrive back to the dorm sooner.

And amidst the chattering of everyone around them, the three have been oddly quiet, talking between themselves. “You should really stop worrying, Y/n unnie will be fine.” Hyejoo spoke up with an encouraging smile. “It’s just a fever, she’s stronger than that.”

It was no secret that the young girl looked up to you so much. She’d been intrigued by you since the first time they met you in Canada, and her fascination only grew the longer you spent together. Hyejoo always found herself learning things from you and she appreciated it every time. Whatever secret or worry she had, you were always one of the people she would first approach.

“Olivia is right. I’m sure she’s feeling much better by the time we get home. We even have her favorite soup and medicines to help her feel better just in case.” Yerim stated happily while Heejin pursed her lips.

Jiwoo squeezed Heejin’s hand and nodded her head, making the younger girl slowly lean back and sigh, forcing her worries down as she shut her eyes and prayed that you were alright.

“Heejin looks really worried about Y/n.” Sooyoung muttered from her place and Jinsoul shook her head. “Y/n doesn’t usually get sick, so I can understand.” But her girlfriend merely huffed and crossed her arms. “I know that, but don’t you think that maybe there’s more to it? We don’t even worry as much as she does.” Jinsoul frowned at Sooyoung and took her hand. “Whatever is going on between Heejin and Y/n is none of our business. If they aren’t ready to tell us, then let them. We didn’t tell Y/n as soon as we started dating, either.”

Grunting, Sooyoung accepted her defeat because what Jinsoul said was true. It wouldn’t be fair if she demanded answers on whether or not you and Heejin were dating when they kept their own relationship a secret, but she just didn’t like the feeling that crept up in her chest when she sees or even thinks of you together.

By the time they all arrived at the dorm, the three were the first ones out, forgetting the food and medicine they bought for you in their haste at getting to you as fast as they could. The rest of the members looked worried and followed after them.

Heejin quietly opened the door to your shared room, peeking inside to see if you were awake, but as soon as her eyes landed on your figure when she flicked the lights on, her heart dropped before she was running inside. “Y/n!”

Jungeun ran to your other side when Heejin tried to help you up from the floor and they gasped upon seeing the various bloodstained petals on the floor and the blood on your own hands. “Stop manager oppa! Tell him we need to go to the hospital!”

Sooyoung stopped dead in her tracks when she saw what was happening. She felt her blood running cold and she wouldn't have been able to move if Jiwoo hadn't ran past her, bumping into her by accident in her haste to call your manager and stop him from leaving.

Jinsoul pushed past everyone and ran to you, taking your face into her hands and shaking her own head as tears welled in her eyes as yours refused to open. "Y/n! Wake up, come on this isn't funny!"

She held a hand close to your mouth and nose before she pressed her head to your chest just to hear your heartbeat.

"Unnie, you have to move." Yerim said urgently while tugging at her friend's arm when your manager came running into the dorm. Haseul was doing her best to keep calm as she gripped Yeojin's hand in her own when they watched your manager pick you up from the floor.

He looked at all of them. "I'm not going to bother asking you if you'll be coming along, I just need you all to follow my instructions until we get help." They all nodded immediately and followed the man back down and to the van with Heejin insisting to hold you as your manager drove.

The poor girl was silently crying as she held your fragile form as close to her as humanly possible, Hyejoo holding your hand when she sat beside Heejin, willing back tears as the first girl wiped the blood from your mouth.

The ride to the hospital was the longest and tense one they've all ever experienced, but as soon as they arrived, your manager quickly parked the van and went back to retrieve you from the girls before running inside with all twelve girls running after him.

"Y/n L/n." The man said quickly and the receptionist seemed surprised as she typed in your name, only to quickly rise to her feet, calling for the same doctor you had consulted with before nurses soon came over to get you and relieve your manager.

Seeing how quickly people were reacting with your appearance, all of your members looked on with confusion except for the three girls aware of your actual condition.

"What's going on?" Chaewon was the first to ask and all eyes turned to their manager, who looked just as troubled as Heejin, Jiwoo, and Jungeun. "What's happening to Y/n? What was that?" Sooyoung demanded, her voice growing more and more adamant as Jinsoul held her back.

"You know something and you aren't telling us. Y/n said it was just a fever." Haseul tried to keep her voice steady. "A fever doesn't make you cough out blood." The maknae said shakily, terrified of what she had seen.

All four of them exchanged glances before Jungeun let out a sigh. "Y/n is sick, but it isn't a fever or a flu." She crossed her arms to keep her hands from shaking. "She's suffering from Hanahaki. It's a rare disease that makes you cough up petals because of an unrequited love."

"Unrequited love?" Jinsoul muttered, her brows pinching together before she looked to Heejin. "Aren't you together? This isn't making any sense."

"Y/n isn't in love with Heejin!" Jiwoo cut in while hugging the said girl. "But we can't tell you who she's in love with either because she made us promise not to." She added with a grimace. "Y/n is dying in there! Whoever this person is needs to know and do something!" Sooyoung retorted and Heejin snapped to look at her.

"It doesn't matter if the person she's in love with knows! They're happy and in a relationship. Y/n never wanted to ruin what they had so she kept her feelings under wraps no matter how much it was killing her! She didn't want to get the surgery because she didn't want to forget either of you!"

Jiwoo quickly took the younger girl by the shoulders when she had accidentally slipped up due to her emotions, but there was no stopping now as Sooyoung and Jinsoul went quiet after the sudden outburst.

“Forget us?” Jinsoul slowly released her girlfriend as she took a step forward and Hyunjin went to her best friend’s side to calm her down while Jungeun and Jiwoo decided to clear the situation up the best they could with their manager’s help. “We discovered Y/n’s condition a while back. And while it was the wise decision to pull through with the surgery, she declined for various reasons, the main one being that there was a risk of forgetting the person she has such strong feelings for.”

“She refused to do it, and it seemed like that there was no convincing her otherwise. It would also cause some trouble if she ever does forget both of you because that would be a major shift in your relationship and it won’t take long before people find out.”

“But what’s going to happen to unnie now? Are they going to operate on her?” Hyejoo questioned while the man shook his head. “I’m not too sure. We have to wait for her doctor to come back.”

The male paused, looking grim as he observed each girl, hesitating before finally breathing out. “In the event that this is the worst case scenario, I need all of you to be ready.”

They hated that he had opened up the idea of possibly losing you. While they all knew what this disease would entail, they just couldn’t accept the fact that they could permanently be losing you.

Led outside your room, the girls each waited anxiously for your doctor to come back and tell them what was the condition you were in. The overwhelming fear and anxiety bubbled in all of them and Haseul bit her lip as she did her best to keep a calm face whilst Kahei held her hand, running her thumb across her knuckles.

What seemed like years was only an hour and a half before the door slowly opened and your doctor came with a grim expression across his face. "How is she?" Your manager questioned and the man shook his head while glancing over his shoulder. "She's stable for now. It looks like she was choking on her own blood along with the fully bloomed flowers." He winced before letting a regretful sigh pass his lips.

"I highly advise that she get the surgery as soon as possible because at the rate we're going, there won't be much time left for Y/n." He informed them and Heejin slowly shook her head. "We can't… she doesn't want that."

No matter how much Heejin wanted you to get it, your wish was above her own in wanting to save you. And if she ever allowed it to happen without your consent, it would be in her conscience forever and she wouldn't be able to properly look at you, knowing that she had gone against your wishes.

"But what are we going to do?" Hyunjin questioned seriously. "Y/n is dying. If we don't go through with it-"

"We know that, but this is Y/n's decision." Jiwoo cut in, a serious look on her usually cheerful face. "I want to help her. We all do. But Y/n made her decision clear ever since she found out. She doesn't want to be numb or to forget about Yves unnie and Jinsoul unnie and we can only respect that decision."

"Chuu is right. We tried to talk her out of it, but Y/n said she would rather die than forget the people she cares about. It isn't fair to you, but it isn't fair to her, either. She knows the risks and she knows the consequences but she chose to take her feelings to the grave rather than burden Jinsoul unnie and Sooyoung unnie with what she felt for them." Jungeun sighed while anxiously running her fingers through her hair.

"... Can we see her?"

The question was from Sooyoung as she stood stiffly next to her girlfriend, eyes trained to the door that separated you and them whilst your doctor nodded his head. "I recommend going in groups, just so she isn't disturbed or stressed out." He advised before excusing himself and giving the girls the time that they needed.

They didn’t need to discuss who would go first because the couple were already in front of your door as soon as they could and Jinsoul sucked in a deep breath before she slowly pushed it open and stepped inside.

Once there, they immediately spot your body laying on the hospital bed with various wires attached to your fragile form that it makes their own hearts ache at the sight.

Sooyoung quickly came to your side and instinctively reached to brush your hair, only to stop when she hears Heejin’s voice echoing in her head. Jinsoul looked worried before she placed her own over her girlfriend’s and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll be okay.” She whispered before pressing a kiss to her temple and then turning back to you.

Your face was peaceful, minus the lack of color and life in it. It was as though this was the first proper sleep you’ve had in how long and it pained them to know that you were enduring all of this for their sake.

“You’re such an idiot, I swear.” Sooyoung finally muttered as she let her hands fall to the sheets. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why couldn’t you have told us?” She tried to hold back a sob, but when you didn’t respond to her with your usual banter, it was getting harder for her to keep her composure. “You were pulling away from us because you didn’t want us to worry, now look at us.” Jinsoul sniffled as she wiped her cheeks.

“We could have avoided all of this.” She whimpered quietly while reaching for your hand, your usually warm skin now cold to the touch as she laced her fingers with yours. “Please, we’ll make it better. We’ll take the pain away, just please… please stay with us.”

“Don’t go, Y/n. We need you.” Sooyoung begged as she buried her face to your neck, clutching at the front of your hospital gown while Jinsoul placed her other hand on her back.

The clock was ticking and they knew that the other girls were wanting to see you as desperately as they did, Heejin most especially. So, forcing themselves to part from you, they held each other tight as they headed for the exit.

“... unnie.”

The pair stopped in their tracks as the weak rasp of your voice called out. Turning back, they saw that your eyes were still closed, but the small movement from your hands was all it took for them to know you were awake.

Running to your side, Jinsoul took your outstretched hand and pressed her face against your palm as her watery eyes watched you. “You’re okay.” Sooyoung breathed out as she stood behind her girlfriend.

You struggle to open your eyes, but as soon as you do, you immediately see them watching you with worry swimming in their own tear filled gazes. “Why are you-” You’re cut off by a cough and Jinsoul squeezes your hand when a bit of blood dribbles down your chin before Sooyoung wiped it away.

”Why are you crying?” You forced out, a frown on your features. But the question throws them off and Jinsoul can’t help but cry more. “What do you mean why are we crying? We found you nearly dead in the dorm, do you expect us to be fine?” Sooyoung snapped at you and you blink slowly while trying to properly decipher her words.

Their voices sounded so faint yet they were right there. Your vision was blurry and you had a great struggle with understanding everything they were saying. The only thing you could tell was they were crying, and you didn’t want that.

“I’m scared.” The words were hushed as they fell from your lips and Sooyoung squeezed her eyes tight just so she wouldn’t cry anymore than she already has. “D-Don’t be scared. You’re going to be fine. We’re right here.”

“We love you so much and it hurts that you’re going through this.” Jinsoul muttered against your palm, pressing a light kiss against it. “You should have told us, but we should have told you, too. We were just so scared of how you would think of us and-”

“Unnie…” Your breathing was growing weaker from all the flowers that have bloomed in your lungs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not your fault.

You don’t have to say it.

It isn’t your responsibility.

“Y/n, we love you, okay? We love you, too, just as much as you love us.” Sooyoung told you, desperate to make you believe that what they were saying was true. But the yellow carnations fell from your lips once more and she’s forced to wipe them away before Jinsoul stood properly to look at you.

They were desperate and time was running out. Either you believed them or they lose you forever. So, with a final resolve, Jinsoul leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours as her lips slotted perfectly against yours in a slow and tender kiss, one hand holding your cheek as you felt the wind knocked out of you.

She doesn’t give you time to respond because Sooyoung was quick to replace her, a little more aggressive, yet still gentle enough to not hurt you before she pulled away to kiss your forehead and the weight on your chest gradually began to fade away.

When they both give you enough space, your hand shoots to your mouth before your body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Alarmed, the girls pressed the button on the wall to call for your doctor when blood slipped past your fingers and fell on the white sheets of the bed.

Everything happens fast as they’re basically thrown out of the room and your doctor hurries to check on you as the door closes. There are various things that they hear through the door but it dies down after a while, leaving a tense silence outside as the girls looked at the couple. “What happened? What did you do?” Heejin asked, terrified. But neither of them said anything as the door opened with your doctor looking perplexed but relieved.

“It would appear that Y/n will... no longer be needing the surgery.” He stated and Haseul’s shoulders tensed up as she came closer. “Why? Is she okay? What happened?” Your leader demanded and the male nodded his head before stepping aside.

“She’s coughed up quite a lot of the flowers, one of them containing the roots.” They were surprised by this as a nurse walked out of the room with the flowers in a plastic bag. “We’ll need an xray, but judging from that alone, it would appear that Y/n might be alright.”

Hearing that made Heejin’s knees buckle and she leaned on Jiwoo’s side for support whilst Hyejoo felt a lump forming in her throat when she gripped both Yerim’s and Chaewon’s arms and Kahei hugged Yeojin tightly as Junguen comforted her friends the best she could.

“We’ve taken off some of the machines and wires. She’s looking a bit better, just a bit more rest and food and I think she’ll be able to fully recover.” He informed them before turning to your manager, who smiled, feeling just as relieved from this whole ordeal.

All twelve girls entered your room when given the okay and you greet them all with a meek smile and a small wave of your hand. The color was back on your face and it looked like you have enough energy now compared to when they found you in the dorm.

Jinsoul and Sooyoung approached you with smiles on their faces. “You believe us now?” Sooyoung asked lightly and you blush, the red spreading to the tips of your ears as you slowly nodded your head. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. If we hadn’t been such cowards and assumed, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“To be fair, everyone else assumed we were dating.” Heejin piped up when she approached the bed to wrap her arms around you in a hug, kissing your cheek as she did, before Sooyoung gave her a warning glare as Jinsoul lightly pushed her.

Noticing the stare, your best friend laughed before she shook her head. “I mean, we do look good together. What do you say, Y/n? Will you date me instead?” You chuckled at your friend’s joke before giggling when you see the puppy eyes Jinsoul sent you and the slight huff that came from a pouting Sooyoung.

“I love you, Heejin, but you and I know that would be weird.” You give her a kiss as an apology, but she happily accepts it before turning to the other two. “Take care of her or else I’m really going to date her instead.”

“Yah!”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes in good nature before she took your hand. “We’re not letting go of her, you can bet on that.” Jinsoul nodded in agreement, smiling softly at you before she pressed a kiss to your cheek and you were finally able to smile a real one, one that showed the spark in your eyes and emanated the life that flowed through your veins.

And with a promise like Sooyoung’s and Jinsoul’s, you know that you wouldn’t have to hide your feelings or worry about the petals blooming in your lungs.

You were saved and they make sure to remind you that your love for each other was always going to be unconditional.

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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fallinfl0wers · 3 years ago

Note

May request prompt

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love." Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL

For Haruka from i7 please?

7. “Even if we’re far apart, I’ll keep singing for you with all my love.” Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL from the lyric prompt list! thank you for your request!! i love haruka so so so much, he's my favorite character in i7! >< also! i'm trying a slightly new format that i'll be aplying to my future posts! i'll also start editing the old ones just beause,, yeah i think it looks cute. the colored letters aren't part of the format, but i felt like they fit here so lol on a slightly sadder note, the first draft of this got deleted on accident and i had been sulking about it for a while but lol here we are warnings: gn reader, light hurt/comfort, fluff, long-distance relationships, set sometime in the future of i7's story, though this is pretty much fluff without plot,,, word count: 1623 words

"Up next are Natsume-san and Isumi-san, three minutes!" the voice of a staff member makes him look up from the screen of his phone, where he had been aimlessly scrolling down on his SNS while the hairstylists did his hair.

"Yeah, understood." He answers, putting his phone down on the table as a makeup artist retouches his makeup.

The young idol then walked alongside his unitmate to enter the dark stage, adjusting his in-ear monitor as he sat down on the chair preppared for him beforehand, surrounded by the expectant, excited whispers of the audience who waved their lightsticks in support for their favorite idols. Scanning the audience with his eyes, he clutched his microphone.

The spotlights landed on the two idols as the music started to play and they could hear the cheering of their fans before they quieted down, in order to hear their singing.

"I wandered, lost in my loneliness like a desert without roads."

Haruka Isumi didn't need anyone at his side to be the best, everyone will just drop him the moment the next shiny, newest toy appears in front of them. At least, that's what his experience had taught him.

"There, a single, tiny flower became the melody of love."

Then everything happened. ZOOL happened. But more importantly, you happened.

He, who didn't care for almost anything anymore, became infatuated with you. He fell in love with you, who always looked at him and appreciated him, you, who always supported him and never laughed at him.

"My tears suddenly fell, shaking the green leaves."

You, who helped him through each and every one of his worst moments and were there to laugh with him during his best moments, you, who were both his best friend and his dear, dear lover.

"Wow, 'the weaker you become...'"

You, who always supported him on his dreams and were the first one to congratulate him on everything he achieved.

You, who he was now supporting as you walked to your own dreams.

You, who were walking towards your dreams, far, far away from him.

"(So, don't look back)."

"'...the kinder...'"

You, who he hoped woke up earlier than usual today just to see him singing live even if it was through a computer.

"(Sharing, big love)."

"'...you'll become.' Your gentle warmth taught me that."

You, who taught him everything he knew about romantic love, who showed him that there was more to people than hatred and betrayal. So warm and gentle, you always made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

But you're not next to him, not anymore. Not physically, at least.

But, that's alright. It hurts, it hurts so much and it makes him anxious constantly even if he'd never admit it out loud. But that's alright.

"Like the falling rain, we are not alone."

That's alright, even if it hurts and it brings scary, unwanted thoughts into his mind, it's alright. It's alright, because he knows you're doing what you love just like he is.

And it's alright, because he's not the weak, arrogant crybaby he was when you met. He's stronger now, he has grown up, he's mature. He can handle this. He can keep this going. He can support you without crying every night for your absence.

"Beneath this wide sky, even if you're on the other side of the world, I'm thinking--"

"--of you again today."

It's alright, because he knows you've grown up as well, he knows neither of you is a stupid, oh so stupid and inexperienced highschooler like when you first met. He knows, you both can be stronger than this distance.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"Look, the crescent moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

He knows this, and still...

He can't help but get worried, sometimes.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"I want to envelop everything..."

He can't help but worry that you'll get tired of this. Tired of him always being busy, of your schedules never matching, of how he still has to keep you as a secret to protect you from the tabloids and his crazed fans. Worry that you might find someone who has less trouble giving affection, someone who can love you better than him.

Though all his worries wash away, everytime you send him a picture of his newest merchandise that just arrived to your apartment and a cute stamp through RabbitChat at ungodly hours for him, followed by the usual voice note saying 'i love you'.

He knows you have your own fears about it all, as well. But he's told you, over and over again, without ever feeling annoyed, that he only has eyes for you, no matter how many pretty actresses and idols try to snatch him away, the only person he loves in that way is you and only you.

There has never been anyone else but you inside his heart.

You're the only one Haruka wants to spend his whole life with, the only one who can fully understand him and love him.

"...Just as the gentle wind loves the sea..."

And no matter how longer you may have to be apart, how many people you both will meet and how many worries there will be in between before you can next meet again, he wants to and will make sure to remind you daily that he loves you and will love you until he takes his last breath.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love."

He lifts his gaze to look at the camera with a content sparkle hidden in his eyes, once his next line comes around.

"I wish you--"

("I got a scholarship to finish my college studies overseas, Haruka!" You told him a couple years ago.)

"--happiness."

("I'll be here waiting for you to comeback when you're ready." He called your name that night at the airport, hugging you close before you took off.)

"This seed of happiness that I touched exists to protect the person I love."

("It must be hard for you, isn't it? You don't need to call me every day if you're too tired to do it. I can wait for as long as you need.")

"Our words dissolve in the twilight."

("Nonsense! I... am, tired, but! You must be tired too, right? Get some rest, I'll hang up if you promise you're going to rest too!")

"That seed of happiness that you touched reaches out to someone I don't know."

("I saw that selfie you posted with those two from ainana, I'm so happy to see you really have friends!" "Why did you even doubt that?!" "I worry about you, since I can't see you everyday and all that...")

"Because the circle of love that connects us lights up tomorrow."

("I miss you." "I know, I miss you too." "Let's try to meet during my summer break?" "I already told you, didn't I? I can wait for as long as you need, dummy.")

"Look, it has started to rain."

("Isn't it almost midnight there? Go to sleep." "But I wanna talk more with you..." "You're so hopeless... Go on, sleep, I'm not going anywhere until you sleep." "Hehehe, can I get a lullaby from you before I sleep?" "There's no helping it, right? You really get needy when it's late at night." "But you love anyway, so it works out...~")

"I want to envelop everything, Shadow."

("...Yeah, I love you.")

"Today's live was amazing, Haruka!" Your voice tells him through the phone while he layed down on his bed, late at night in his timezone. "Everyone was so cool, but you were the coolest! The whole time you were on screen I was all like 'Yes this is my boyfriend just look at him go he's so amazing!!!'"

He chuckled at your words, a loving gaze softening his gaze while he listened to your voice.

"I know, right? Praise me more, praise me more~ But only after you tell me, did you sleep early yesterday to wake up early today?"

"I totally did! I wouldn't miss one of your shows if I can help it!"

Though most of the times you couldn't.

He still felt his heartbeat race up at your support.

"You're so cute, did you know that?"

"Eh-? Why tell me that all of a sudden?!"

"Because..." He yawned. "I want to." You went silent for a second, before speaking again.

"You're tired, aren't you? You should go to sleep..."

"No... wanna talk to you more..."

He can already hear your tender smile just from your words alone.

"Go ahead, Haruka. You did well today, you deserve some rest."

"Do I get a lullaby from you to sleep?"

You chuckled.

"Yeah, of course. You are so needy when it's late at night..."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I know, I know."

He smiles, hearing you giggle through the phone.

"I wish I could hold you until you fell asleep right now... But since I can, you'll have to do with me singing my new favorite song for you~"

"'s okay, I like your voice. I'd listen to your voice the whole day if you wanted me to."

"Then... I'll start..." You cleared your throat, and he couldn't help but smile to himself again when he heard the lyrics of his duet song with Minami.

You're not a singer like he is, and you of course haven't trained your voice for as long as he has, he knows that and he still loves the sound of your singing voice.

He drifts off to sleep with your voice as his lullaby, and he knows you both hold true to the lyrics for as long as you need to.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love...~"

#idolish7 #idolish seven #idolish7 headcanons #idolish7 x reader #haruka isumi #idolish7 zool #idolish7 imagines #haruka isumi x reader #isumi haruka x reader #isumi haruka #melodywritings #melwritesainana

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Hidden Love & High Society

Requested by Anon: “Can you do a Jisoo x fem reader where the reader is also an idol and Jisoo and the reader develop feelings for each other. But they're under super strict companies and Korea is a strict society so they're scared to admit their feelings. Some angst but a fluffy ending please!”

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,049

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self Doubt, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested: Thank you! I had a couple different ways I was going to go with this, but I think this version fits the best. I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading, everyone. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Falling in love with Kim Jisoo had been a gradual experience, beautifully terrifying and perfectly imperfect. You never intended it, especially with how strict your companies are, but there was no stopping it once it started. As much as you’ve tried to, you can’t deny the butterflies that take flight when your eyes meet, or how your heart skips a beat whenever she’s near. In your head, where you’ve convinced yourself this unrequited love will forever stay, things are perfect; you hold onto the memories there when the hard times come along, seeking solace in them. Sadly, the real world can never look like this -- especially for the two of you. Two women -- two idols, at that -- thrust into the limelight, immersed fully in Korean standards and societal roles. You don’t stand a chance against all of the odds, even with your group members at your side, behind you all the way. But with every stolen glance, every fleeting moment with her, your feelings become harder to hide. You’re only capable of so much pretending, and your cache is running out.

Being the leader of your group is a wonderful thing that you don’t take lightly, but it doesn’t come without its share of stress. The girls look up to you, always trusting you to take care of them and do what’s right, and that makes you want to be perfect for them. That fact doesn’t make the inner turmoil any easier for you: is it better to deny yourself of the one thing you want, for the sake of saving face? Or should you teach them to live for themselves, answering to no one else? That question persists in your mind, replaying like a mantra, working to drive you insane.

Jisoo is much the same: she knows how unforgiving and heinous the media can be, and she isn’t willing to risk the group’s reputation over a silly crush. A silly crush, she always tries to remind herself, although it becomes more difficult with every new memory she makes with you. She’s done well in concealing her emotions this long, but you make her feel weak; a part of her resents you for how easily you can turn her into a blushing mess. All of your little mannerisms and quirks fuel the flame in her heart, and she’s growing more and more fond of the feeling.

~~~~~~~

For Jisoo, nights like these are always the best: both of your groups are relaxing at the Blackpink dorm, everyone discussing the award show you just attended. The two of you are seated on adjacent couches, the rest of your members strewn about the room, some on the floor while others lounge on the sofas. From her spot, Jisoo has the most perfect view: warm light shines on you from the nearby lamp, accentuating your features in all the right ways. Her gaze softens as she watches you recount how it felt to hear that you’d won, your eyes bright and expression cheery. You rule her world without even knowing it, and sometimes she seriously considers just listening to her heart and admitting her feelings.

Lost in her thoughts of you, she doesn’t even realize that she’s leaned in closer, her eyes dropping down to your lips as you speak. You act like you don’t notice, doing your best to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks at the thought of having her full attention. There’s always been an unspoken tension between the two of you, and all of your members are aware of it. As Lisa takes control of the conversation, you sit back a bit, relaxing into the cushions of the loveseat. At the feeling of the material against your skin, you’re reminded of the time that Jisoo straddled you here, tickling you relentlessly as you squirmed and laughed. The memory, one of thousands that she’s the star of, brings a smile to your face.

Eventually the conversation shifts, with everyone ranting about how hungry they are. Of course, being the unnie that you are, you offer to make some food for everyone -- you enjoy cooking, but you also know that they’re all too lazy to make anything for themselves.

“Jisoo, would you care to help me? I know I’m pretty great and all, but I’m not so sure I can feed this gang by myself.”

She has to stop herself from agreeing before you’re even done asking. Needless to say, her smirk widens as she says, “I’d love to help,” before standing up and trailing in your wake.

As the two of you make your way out of the room, a quiet chorus of ooo’s can be heard from the girls. You send them a stern look, but it only makes them giggle even more than they already are. Jisoo’s thankful that you’re turned away from her right now -- she has to bite her lip to contain the dorky grin on her face.

~~~~~~~

Upon entering the kitchen, you retrieve two aprons from the hook located beside the other entryway. The room is spacious and open, with plenty of countertop to work on and even an island in the middle. Perfect, you think to yourself. Jisoo leans into you as she wraps the material of the apron around your form, securing it in place with a light tug. You help her right after, and try hard not to get distracted by the warmth that radiates from her.

To anyone other than the two of you, getting so flustered over such a simple act would seem ridiculous. You had long ago mastered the art of subtlety, though, quickly learning how important it is in your line of work. In a weird way, being so restricted added even more meaning to the small things -- light touches asking, “How was your day?”, soft smiles saying, “I’ve missed you.” Everything had a hidden message, a secret purpose between the two interacting. You spoke without words, living in a realm of quiet boldness.

Now, equally as giddy in each other's presence, the two of you begin cooking.

~~~~~~~

By some miracle, you had managed to whip out a fairly big meal for everyone in just under an hour. The spread consisted of ramen, tteokbokki, dumplings, soup, and some other random things your members requested. Quickly, everyone is called into the dining room, and they begin making their plates.

“Crap, I’ll be right back. I forgot to cut up the veggies.” You announce as you set off back to the kitchen, a pep in your step; preparing the food had made you realize just how hungry you are, and you want to hurry back. Perhaps that’s where your mistake laid; about halfway through the batch of veggies, in the rushed state that you were in, you miscalculated the slice, and the sharp edge of the knife cut into your finger. It wasn’t too deep, but it was enough to draw blood immediately, the red liquid running down your hand without restraint.

“Oww!!” You call out to no one in particular as the pain seeps in.

At the sound of your strained voice, Jisoo practically races to the kitchen to check on you. The other members are concerned too, but they know that she’ll take care of you. (Besides, they’re busy chowing down on the food... but we won’t mention that).

“Y/N?? What happened?” She’s frightened, completely worried about you.

You fill her in to the best of your ability, feeling a little lightheaded as you catch a glimpse of your hand. She wraps you in her embrace, steadying you, and grabs a towel. You’re unable to stop the pained hiss that leaves you at the pressure she adds to the tender skin in order to stop the bleeding. She sends you a regretful look, paired with a quick sorry, as she walks you to the bathroom.

Once there, she puts the lid down, carefully setting you down on the toilet. The cold surface of the porcelain makes you tense up, but it’s successful in taking your mind off the pain, if nothing else. Your eyes shyly trail up her body as she stands on her tippy toes, stretching up to reach the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. How does she manage to always look so good?

“Here, let’s rinse it off first.” It’s a request and a command wrapped into one, and you readily agree. One of her arms loops around your waist as she helps you stand, and you hold onto her with your good hand. She tries not to think about how your fingertips run over her collarbone, lightly stroking the skin there, absentmindedly. Focus, Jisoo, she tells herself. Even with the slight grimace on your face, you look breathtaking. After all, you’re art to her -- she would spend hours studying you if she could, imprinting every detail of you into her mind.

You lean against the smooth counter of the sink, feeling your hip bones press onto it, and you wobble a bit. Jisoo notices this, but both of her hands are busy with cleaning your injured one off -- thus, she does the next best thing: gently, she repositions herself so that one of her legs is behind you, and she presses her own hips into you. Once you’re secured against the counter, she puts her focus back on her previous task. Meanwhile your brain is having trouble functioning at the proximity of your bodies; she’s being bold. You steal a glance at her in the mirror, but she appears cool and collected -- the complete opposite of you right now.

After the bleeding has slowed dramatically, she returns you to your seat and grabs the bandages. She crouches in front of you, a reassuring smile on her lips as she makes sure you’re feeling okay. Once your finger is patched up, she takes you by surprise: she places a small kiss to it, her hands still cradled around yours lovingly.

Likely from the blood loss, a strange surge of confidence comes over you, and you reach forward to run your thumb across her bottom lip. She’s a little shocked, with how her eyes open a little wider and her breath hitches. The two of you stay like that, looking at each other, a silent war of wills being waged.

In that instant, Jisoo is forced to confront her feelings. She had long ago lost count of how many times she’s wanted to kiss you. To feel your body aligned with hers, your racing heart against her chest, minds running wild with all of the new possibilities being unlocked. It would be a huge step, no doubt -- one that offered no chance to turn back, no place for fear to reside any longer. It would feel like finally solving a puzzle, all of the pieces coming together in just the right ways. As terrifying as that leap would be to make, Jisoo would do it for you. The idea became a little less daunting with every step closer the two of you got to one another.

And so, she does. Jisoo leans forward fairly quickly, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss -- if she would’ve gone slower, she knows she would’ve chickened out. A light tremble runs through her, proving just how nervous she is. At first, you relax into the kiss, moving your lips against hers in perfect time; once your brain catches up with your heart, though, you pull away.

“I- I can’t,” you stutter out, mind still a little foggy at what just went down. You lick your lips without really meaning to.

Her expression quickly dims, now looking dejected at your rejection. As she goes to stand, one of your hands lands on the collar of her shirt, holding her in place -- you don’t want her to misunderstand you.

“If we do that, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Who says we have to? I’m sick of holding back.” Her hands are resting on your thighs now, eyes watching you intently as she waits for your response. She’s just a breath away from you, sitting right in the palm of your hand.

You panic and say, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Your change of heart confuses her, but she respects your wishes nonetheless. Just as quickly as she had appeared before, she’s gone, leaving you to think about what just happened.

You sit there, already missing her presence, and you hate yourself a little more. How could you be so stupid? The opportunity was right there, ripe for the taking, circumstances perfectly aligned, and yet you let it all slip away. Even still, your mind justifies your cowardice for fear of the fall out that would ensue. This is for the best, though it hurts. Keeping Jisoo at arm’s length in the name of protecting her had become the customary thing to do, and you fell right back into the habit. To be with her is to limit her, and you can’t bear the thought of that. She deserves to be showered with love and attention all the time, not hidden away and forced into secret meetings. What kind of life would that be?

~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening hosts a newfound tension, one full of uncertainty and longing. The two of you are deep in your thoughts, neither of you knowing where to go from here. She tries to forget how your lips felt, the rhythm that they fell into with hers; but she can’t get it out of her head.

Before long, your members decide to call it a night, and you’re being whisked away. Somehow, it’s a combination of exactly what you want, and the complete opposite -- what are you to do now? Where do you stand with Jisoo? Your feelings are so overwhelming that it’s almost too much to handle; so many questions float around in your mind, begging to be answered by her.

Quick goodbyes are given, and you can’t find it in yourself to even hold her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you’ve hurt her: knowing that fact is bad enough -- you can’t stand the thought of seeing the pain in her eyes, her smile even a little faded because of your own doing. It tears you up, and your speedy exit is a testament to that.

~~~~~~~

2:41 AM

You’ve spent the better part of the night tossing and turning with no hope of getting any sleep, no end in sight for this self-made torture. Regret runs through you every time you replay the events that unfolded, and you feel a little more hopeless with each passing second.

Why did she have to kiss you? It’s impossible to contain your feelings now, the emotions far too abundant to be bottled up any longer. Your lips remember how hers moved against them, her gloss spreading at the contact. She tasted like some tropical fruit, sweet and foreign on your tongue. Being with her is like taking a late night drive through the city, windows rolled down with the radio playing your favorite songs. She makes everything feel possible, somehow, and you secretly love the spontaneity of it all. You want more than anything to just give in, to relent after all this time. Clearly she feels the same, right? If that kiss meant anything, then surely she did. So why should you care about the rest of it? If being with you is what she wants, who are you to deny her?

~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Her voice is sleepy, yet it still holds a layer of shock; likely given the fact that you’re at her door at such an ungodly hour.

“Did I wake you up?”

She pauses for a beat, seemingly deciding on what to say, before replying, “...no. I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I,” you confess, hoping that she’ll put two and two together.

“Listen, I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have done that without asking first.” For a second, your heart stops, and you almost chicken out again.

“I’m glad you did, Jisoo. Because it made me realize how much I like you.” You listen to your heart, the admission coming out more confident than you expected.

She’s stunned, to say the least, her eyes blinking a few times in confusion. “I thought--” she starts, but you interrupt her.

“I’ve spent all of this time pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you. To be with you. I’m just so scared of what people will say, you know? There’s no turning back after that.”

“I wouldn’t want to, Y/N. I’d rather be happy with you than live like this. To hell with them, they’re always gonna have something to say about us. You and I can figure it all out together.” She smiles at the end of her statement, a tender hue in her eyes that you’ve never quite seen before.

As you stand there in her doorway, the slight chill of the night breeze ghosting over your skin, giving you goosebumps, everything clicks. It feels like coming home, something that was always destined to be, and you can tell she feels it, too. You close the distance, finally allowing your walls to crumble away. Her arms are around you, and her presence is actively soothing any remaining fears you may have. Only she is capable of that; you’ve never felt safer than when you’re with her. You run a hand down her arm, lacing your fingers with her own in a sweet embrace. She relaxes into you, now able to trust that you won’t leave.

Though the kisses started off sweet, they’ve turned more desperate; the two of you are eager to make up for lost time, after all. Following an especially bruising kiss, you pull away breathlessly, and rest your forehead against hers. “Can I come in?” You ask shyly, ducking your head down a bit. Two of her fingers hook underneath your chin, raising your head so that your eyes can meet hers. “I’m not letting you get away this time.” With that, the two of you retreat to her room, hand in hand. You spend the night tangled up in each other, joining forces to write your new destiny together from scratch.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading!!!

#jisoo #kim jisoo #jisoo kim #jisoo x fem reader #jisoo x reader #blackpink #blackpink fluff #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #kpop scenarios #fluff #kpop fluff #angst #jisoo imagine #let-them-read-fics #jisoo turtle rabbit kim

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