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cheollipop · 5 months

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☂˚.⋆｡ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨

navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.0k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3

a lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

☂ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.

☂ A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the apples’ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.

Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smile—a reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.

You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream he’d worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag he’d forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. You’d mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokmin’s shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when you’d walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palms—going cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.

Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.

Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokmin’s profile and onto the family walking past you—two curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations you’d had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered comment—’for the future’—did not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands he’d tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man who’d brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?

Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.

The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokmin’s palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.

You giggled, “those look great, Min.”

“Only the best for you,” he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek he’d just pinched.

Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokmin’s side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasn’t that heavy.

You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. “Min. I can carry it myself.”

“Mm, I know,” he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. “Don’t want you to, though.”

You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coat’s sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.

Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, “Stop complaining, you’re not getting it back.”

And this time, all you could do was laugh.

The hours hurried by while Seokmin’s endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadn’t, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit he’d gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.

A particular shade of green caught Seokmin’s eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokmin’s teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, you’d missed the sly smile, the giggle he’d nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.

A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.

He’d watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness he’d willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once you’d swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.

“Hey,” he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, “we share everything, right?” He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. “Why should I make an exception for fruit?”

“Bad fruit,” you corrected, an eyebrow raised.

“Babe,” he started, but didn’t know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.

And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples you’d launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.

You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes you’d thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.

Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokmin’s hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.

“Baby?” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.

You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until you’d made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.

“I was being careful,” he spoke through a melodramatic pout.

You smiled. “I know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?”

Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokmin’s pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when you’d dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokmin’s pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.

“Why don’t you make the dough instead?”

You picked up where Seokmin left off—half an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you worked—going through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when you’d noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. He’d forgotten the eggs. The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess he’d been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered ‘it’s okay, Min’ seemed to do the trick, though.

Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spices’ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised he’d begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.

Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokmin’s movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough. Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his muscles—the smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess he’d left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you weren’t sure you’d want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power he’d been holding this entire time.

Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when you’d spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.

“It looks great, Min!” You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Though a simple gesture, Seokmin’s face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didn’t satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until he’d had a taste and realized he’d never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhere—hands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.

Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.

“T-the pie!” you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Can you preheat the oven please?”

An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, “yes, boss.” Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. “You have flour all over your face, by the way.”

And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.

The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances you’d stolen of Seokmin’s defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.

Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.

His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.

You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, “the sweet potatoes!”

The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but that’s only because you enjoyed watching the man—broad shoulders and all—sulk and whine when he didn’t get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. It’s unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.

You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokmin’s chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokmin’s body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumber’s enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.

The night’s breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.

“Cold?” he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.

You shook your head, “not anymore,” and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.

Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blinds—a cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.

He’d been teasing you for so long—his cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, you’d reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.

Despite a day’s worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. He’d always enjoyed giving—curling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.

Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still won’t move.

You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. “Please,” you whined, “Min, please move.”

Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, “oh baby,” he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, ‘wanna make you feel so good.”

Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. “Min-”

“Let me be good for you.”

A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasn’t much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.

Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foil—the unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.

The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ah’s, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, “all mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. “All—hngh—all yours,” you repeated, exhaling a breath you’d been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.

“I—hah—‘m sorry,” he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body. “Felt so good, I couldn’t…” he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. “I couldn’t help it,” he muttered.

The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didn’t continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick he’d collected, a silent promise of “I’ll be good” glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.

And he was, so good.

You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.

You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokmin—with his boxers on backwards—reached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn night’s chill piercing through his skin.

He didn’t even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it there—arms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokmin’s tender embrace.

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estapa-edwards · 5 days

Text

CHILDHOOD LOVERS - L. HUGHES

paring: Luke Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 1.6k

requested? yes -luke dating his childhood sweetheart and they are so in lvoe and perfect with each other, they keep it private to friends and family. luke goes out for the first time with the devils and a girl try’s to hood up with him but he declines because he is taken and the devils are suprised thinking it’s not like a serious relationship and then the next game jack and her suprised luke with her their and they realize how wrong they all were

warnings: use of y/n. established relationship

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Love stories often begin in the most unexpected places, but for Luke and Y/N, it all started on the frosty rinks of their childhood. Their love blossomed amidst the echoes of skates carving through ice and the exhilarating rush of the game they both adored. From innocent crushes to a deeply-rooted connection, their relationship had weathered the test of time, quietly flourishing away from the prying eyes of the world.

Luke and Y/N were inseparable since they were children. Growing up in the same neighborhood, their bond formed naturally, like two puzzle pieces destined to fit together. They shared secrets, dreams, and countless moments of laughter that solidified their bond as they navigated through the tumultuous journey of adolescence.

As they matured, their friendship evolved into something deeper. Luke found himself captivated by Y/N's infectious laughter, her unwavering support, and her gentle yet fiercely loyal nature. Y/N, in turn, cherished Luke's kindness, his passion for life, and the way his eyes sparkled with excitement every time he stepped onto the ice.

Their transition from friends to lovers was seamless, marked by stolen kisses beneath the stars and whispered promises of forever. Their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the world, and they guarded it fiercely, choosing to keep their relationship private, a sacred treasure shared only between them.

But life had a way of throwing unexpected challenges their way. Luke's passion for hockey led him to pursue a career in the NHL, a dream he had nurtured since he first laced up his skates. His talent caught the attention of the New Jersey Devils, and soon he found himself thrust into the whirlwind world of professional hockey.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

One chilly evening, after a particularly grueling practice, Luke returned home to find Y/N waiting for him in their cozy apartment. The sight of her instantly melted away the fatigue of the day, and he enveloped her in a warm embrace.

"Hey, you," Luke greeted, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead.

"Hey yourself," Y/N replied, her smile lighting up the room. "How was practice?"

Luke sighed, sinking into the couch beside her. "Tough, as usual. But seeing you makes it all worth it."

Y/N reached for Luke's hand, intertwining their fingers as she leaned against him. "I missed you today. It feels like we haven't had a moment to ourselves in ages."

"I know," Luke admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "But I promise, we'll make up for lost time. How about we order in some food and have a quiet night in?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with excitement. "That sounds perfect."

As they settled in for the evening, sharing stories and laughter over a meal, the outside world faded into the background. In that moment, it was just the two of them, cocooned in their love and the comfort of each other's presence.

Weekends offered a brief respite from the hectic pace of Luke's schedule, and they made the most of every moment together. On one occasion, they decided to escape the city and retreat to a secluded cabin nestled in the mountains.

The crisp mountain air filled their lungs as they embarked on a leisurely hike, hand in hand. Surrounded by towering trees and breathtaking vistas, they reveled in the serenity of nature and the joy of being together.

"I could stay here forever," Y/N mused, her gaze sweeping across the panoramic landscape.

Luke smiled, pulling her close. "As long as I'm with you, anywhere feels like home."

However, their decision to keep their relationship private would soon be put to the test. During one of his first outings with his teammates, Luke found himself the object of unwanted attention from a persistent admirer. Despite the allure of temptation, Luke remained resolute, his heart belonging only to Y/N.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

It was a typical evening out with his teammates, filled with laughter, camaraderie, and the occasional fan encounter. As they settled into a booth at their favorite bar, Luke couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him.

"So, Luke, any plans for tonight?" one of his teammates, Jack, asked with a mischievous grin.

Luke shrugged, trying to mask his discomfort. "Not really. Probably just gonna head home after a few drinks."

His response earned him a chorus of teasing remarks from the others, but Luke ignored them, his thoughts drifting to Y/N.

Meanwhile, across the room, a group of women had taken notice of the handsome hockey player and were whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Before Luke could react, a bold figure approached their table, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips.

"Hey there, handsome," she purred, leaning in close to Luke. "Mind if I join you?"

Luke's pulse quickened as he exchanged uneasy glances with his teammates. Despite the temptation that tugged at his heartstrings, he knew where his loyalty lay—with Y/N.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm taken," Luke replied firmly, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation.

The woman's smile faltered for a moment before she recovered, her eyes narrowing with determination. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm sure your girlfriend won't mind."

Luke's resolve hardened as he thought of Y/N, her image clear in his mind's eye. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. Please, respect my boundaries."

With a huff of frustration, the woman retreated, leaving Luke feeling both relieved and unsettled. His teammates exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by his refusal.

"Wow, Luke, I didn't know you were in a serious relationship," Dawson remarked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Luke nodded, his expression solemn. "Yeah, it's just not something I like to broadcast to the world."

His teammates fell into a contemplative silence, the gravity of Luke's words sinking in. They had always assumed that Luke was just another young athlete enjoying the perks of fame and fortune, but his commitment to Y/N painted a different picture entirely.

As they continued their evening, Luke couldn't shake the feeling of relief that washed over him. Despite the brief moment of temptation, he had remained true to Y/N, reaffirming his loyalty and devotion to their relationship.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The stadium buzzed with excitement as the New Jersey Devils prepared to take the ice for their next game. Among the sea of jerseys and cheering fans, Luke felt a familiar sense of anticipation building within him. Little did he know, this game would be unlike any other.

As the players filed onto the ice, Luke's focus was entirely on the game ahead. He scanned the crowd briefly, searching for a familiar face, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Y/N sat nervously, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. She had carefully hidden her surprise from Luke, knowing that seeing her wearing his jersey would catch him off guard. But she couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he spotted her in the crowd.

As the game progressed, the tension in the arena reached a fever pitch. The Devils fought valiantly against their opponents, their determination evident in every pass, every shot, and every save.

Then, midway through the second period, it happened. Luke's eyes swept over the crowd, and there, amidst the throng of cheering fans, he spotted her—Y/N, wearing his jersey with pride.

His heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight, disbelief and joy warring within him. He couldn't believe that she was here, supporting him in such a public and visible way.

"Is that... Y/N?" one of Luke's teammates exclaimed, his voice filled with astonishment.

The others turned to look, their eyes widening in surprise as they spotted Y/N in the stands, proudly displaying Luke's jersey. It was a sight they never expected to see, and for a moment, they were rendered speechless.

But Luke's reaction spoke volumes. A smile spread across his face, his eyes shining with love and gratitude as he locked gazes with Y/N. In that moment, everything else faded away—the crowd, the game, even the pressure of professional hockey.

All that mattered was the woman he loved, standing in the stands, supporting him with every fiber of her being.

Jack leaned back in his seat, a contented smile gracing his features as he watched his brother, Luke, reunite with Y/N after the game. The sight of them together filled him with a profound sense of happiness and warmth.

He had always known how much Y/N meant to Luke, but seeing them together, their love palpable in every glance and touch, was a powerful reminder of the strength of their bond.

As Luke wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close in a tight embrace, Jack couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for his brother. Despite the challenges they had faced, Luke had remained steadfast in his love for Y/N, never wavering in his commitment to their relationship.

And now, as they stood together amidst the cheers of the crowd, Jack knew that this moment would be etched in their memories forever—a testament to the enduring power of love and the unbreakable bond between two souls.

With a smile of his own, Jack raised his glass in a silent toast to his brother and Y/N, wishing them a lifetime of happiness and love. As he watched them disappear into the crowd, hand in hand, Jack felt a sense of peace settle over him.

For in that moment, he knew that no matter what life threw their way, Luke and Y/N would always have each other, their love a beacon of hope and strength in a world filled with uncertainty. And for Jack, there was no greater joy than seeing his brother truly happy, surrounded by the love of the woman who meant everything to him.

sorry this is so short

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #umich hockey #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #umich lb

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kimingyuslover · 5 months

Text

DOKYEOM FIC RECS

f*ck my thighs by @ourdawnishotterthanourday (smut, workplace!au, fluff, slight angst)

Ever since you started working at XTREMEGEAR, you’ve been hopelessly obsessed with Lee Seokmin...god damn Lee Seokmin and his fucking divine thighs. You didn’t think you’d ever stand a chance with him. But when your company forces you to go to a sports and wellness retreat with the whole HR department, you discover that you haven’t been as discreet about your little crush as you thought you were.

please sir by @starryseokmins (smut, college!au, professor!dk)

summary: you fail your favourite professors class and you make a deal with him to help you pass.

best neighbor of all time award by @drunk-on-dk (slight fluff, smut)

✦summary: Seokmin is the best neighbor you've ever had, making it impossible not to fall for his charms.

open wide by @kittyhuii (smut)

synopsis: It's been months the last time you've been with your boyfriend since he's been on tour with the members, or in other words — it's been months since the last time you’ve gotten off with your boyfriend. Finally, after such a hectic time for your boyfriend, he takes you out for a date. You haven't even gotten out of your house yet you were already fighting unwanted thoughts upon seeing how your boyfriend was dressed. A pair of jorts that perfectly hugs his muscular pair of thighs and a polo shirt with its sleeves rolled up, accentuating his vein-covered arms. You try your best to avert your gaze and survive this date. However, your efforts will soon be in vain as your boyfriend drags you to the nearest comfort room to stuff you with something else other than food.

tipsy by @onlyseokmins (smut)

epistolary yearning by @himbocoups (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut)

synopsis: a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

amanda? by @gyupinkys (smut, reader is not amanda, that's just the question dokyeom asked when he first met her)

"DK, I know you're trying to kill me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

crazier for you by @onewmin (smut, husband!dk)

Summary: While getting ready to your husband's work gala, you get startled by how amazingly he looks in a suit.

werewolf!seokmin by @multi-kpop-fanfics (smut)

christmas favour by @xddaengx (romance, smut, christmas, ceo!seokmin, fake dating)

🎄 Summary: You just wanted to avoid your creepy boss, you didn't know you would have to rely on an old friend to be your imaginary boyfriend.

dad!dk by @number1mingyustan (fluff, dad!dokyeom, smut drabble)

professor, who? by @sunnylovespickles (smut, fluff, college!au, professor!reader)

⋆ summary| You’re his muse, he’s your student. You’ve gotten exceptional close to Lee Seokmin, a star student in your photography class. His eye is above else’s and he’s able to recognize the inner beauty in the little things, even you. The artistry becomes stronger between the two of you, exceeding the camera’s lense. 'Through his lens, I saw myself in ways I hadn't before—strong, sensual, and beautifully imperfect.'

pediatrics department by @taeyegu (smau, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers? nurse!seokmin)

“to me, you became the one ray of sunshine that lit up my lonely hours gone by and became the promise of eternity that glitters like a jewel upon your small white palm… ” (me to you, you to me, mido and falasol)

trivia 承 : love by @viastro (enemies to lovers!au, humor, fluff, band!au)

ミ★ synopsis: who thought it was a good idea to be in a band with your sworn enemy? that’s right. absolutely no one.

memories of us by @wongyuuu (angst, fluff)

summary: every night seokmin dreams of his past lifes, when he met and fell for his soulmate countless times.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #seventeen smau #dokyeom smau #kml.recs

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nunalastor · 2 months

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When Alastor first met the King of Hell, he was to put it lightly... a bit disappointed. Not to be that guy, but as he said, he had expected someone... more. That's the big part of why he had challenged Lucifer the way he had, well, that and his own threat to to plans for Charlie and inherent Daddy Issues Alasot has spent the past hundred years suppressing himself. Now, what he hadn't realized was that during that initial meeting of his he made a tiny, miniscule blunder in unde r estimating the most powerful being in Hell and antagonizing him so blatantly.

He caught Lucifer's attention.

Lucifer, he's not used to a challenge. Most sinners become faint and fearful at his very name. Not even the most powerful and ancient overlord or the Seven Sins are immune to his reputation as the Devil. This upstart little brat of a deer demon just... casually picking a fight with HIM of all people!? KNOWING who he is!? Well... Lucifer hasn't been this entertained in literal centuries, and if rising to the bait gives him the chance to reconnect with Charlie, all the better.

Now Alastor doesn't realize this mistake quite yet, but he will. He most certainly will. And by the time he realizes it'll be too late, Lucifer won't let him go now. Not when he's so entertaining to toy with! It's like a lion playing with his food, Lucifer could easily kill Alastor, but he won't. And he won't let him retreat either. Alastor made the challenge, and he's going to see it through till the end, no matter the consequence.

This is just my way of saying we really need to see some manipulative and possessive Lucifer who develops a crush on Alastor, but don't worry, once he manages to convince Alastor to relax around him he's jsut the sweetest thing. Lucifer isn't like Adam or the Vees. He's a sweet, respectful lover who is completely devoted to anyone who catches his eye. He just likes to toy with the people he courts a bit.

👀

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #lucifer morningstar #radio apple #alastor #apple radio #nunalastor asks #headcanon

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Clownfish reader can be paired up with a few yans:

-Yandere Fisherperson who is a somewhat collector of rare finds of fish and has taken a liking to you so they keep you in a huge aquarium and keeps you there.

-Yandere Predator who was supposed to prey on you until they realized you were their perfect soulmate and decided to keep you for themselves whilst they hunt for you and keep you safe.

-Yandere Sailor who managed to stumble upon one of your performances that has them in a trance, They sail all over the seas just to find you and watch your performances until they were to capture you so you only perform for them and sail away with them.

-Yandere Kraken who has watched all of your performances and yet is somewhat jealous of the fact you still weren't theirs, They make sure to be at an appropriate distance that they can keep an eye on you and make sure you weren't frightened by them.

These are cheesy but meh, I still like the idea of Clownfish reader tho as long as they wear the orange black and white pattern as clown makeup.

(I combined the Predator + Kraken one because I felt they could work together)

Another shipwreck.

So many of those recently. You feared for, and even attempted to entertain stranded humans until better help arrived. This wreckage was completely devoid of life, and its content spilled along the sea floor - making it grounds for you to savage parts for future acts. It wasn't stealing if no one was around.

You swim through the wreckage collecting whatever catches your eye. Shiny jewelry, things you could use to paint your face with on the surface- What's that? You drop nearly your entire horde to pick up one object. A long strip of metal with holes and held together by straps of leather. You've seen humans play with something similar before, blowing air through the top to make such lovely sounds. You try it yourself, but all that comes out is jets of water through the otherside. Obviously not what you wanted, but it still amuses you. You sit on a nearby rock and trying again with a deeper breath, blissful unaware of your surroundings.

Such a cute little fool you were.

Well fed and lethargic, the creature watches its destined mate amuse themselves from the shelter of the dismantled ship. Dinner and a show were such a beautiful mix. That obvious angel was next on the menu at one point in time, but the creature's stomach just wouldn't settle right if it ate something so sweet. Instead, it chose follow them and their humorous act - falling mad with love by the day. How comforting it was to see them smile when pleased a crowd, and how righteous it felt to devour those who turned away their loves generosity though both groups met the same ill fate as soon as their bethroned looked away. With all this talk of food, it was about time it shared its bounty with its lover.

You pause to sniff the air as a faint scent wafts through the ocean sky. It's fish, and not the kind you're used to. It's that stuff in cans you've discovered in other shipwrecks that was somehow even better than that. You swim over without even putting danger into question. At the source you find that cans with their lids popped, and fillets of fish the humans must've cooked. The skin is a little mushy thanks to the water, but you're too hungry to care. You look around as something grazes your back, just missing the tendril that retreats into the ship as you dive back in for another bite.

Adorable as always.

#Clownfish reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #Sea creature reader #Clown reader #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster

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dawndelion-winery · 2 years

Note

hello! I saw that your request status was open and recently ive read your "you fell first, they fell harder" can we get a part 2 of that? (w diff characters, any characters are fine!)

Idk can you?

You Fell First

They fell harder

Ft. Pantalone, Alhaitham, Scaramouche

Pantalone:

He knows all too well how easily emotions cloud one's logic

And he fully plans to exploit that fact

It just amuses him greatly to see how willingly you'd obey him, almost like a pet

Until it started to seem more like you were just a doting master, and he, your spoilt cat

It finally dawned on him when you'd noticed he looked a little tense and offered to massage his shoulders

The more he relaxed into your touch, the less he wanted you to stop touching him

Until he caught one of your hands and brought it to cup his own cheek

Nuzzling said hand before planting a kiss on your palm

Yes, he could definitely get used to this sort of treatment

And you should get used to giving him said treatment or he'll loom over you pretending to be monitoring you

Really just looking for an opportunity to hold you from behind or something

Alhaitham:

Disgusting icky plant man

He probably just didn't realised he was fond of you ngl

Which leads to a lot of "they're just a friend" moments

He's holding doors for you, even doing a lil jog to make sure he gets to the door before you do - very friendly behaviour

Leans his head on your shoulder when you flirt with him - classic friend activity

You're such a great friend for tagging along to help out with all his shenanigans<3

But why are the people he's trying to negotiate getting so...chummy with you?

Now that won't do, he's the only one who's supposed to kiss your knuckles and sidle up to you

"What are you, grouchy, their boyfriend?"

"That is correct, so if you had any semblance of sense left, you'd step away from them."

Scaramouche:

First he thinks it's a joke; you're friends now, friends joke about these things, right?

Then he starts to suspect you're trying to pull a prank on him and break his heart like everyone else dear to him did; very funny, but he's figured it out so please stop

But when you insist it's not? He's still suspicious

It's like feeding a feral cat, you drop the food (your affection) a little bit in front of you and step back so he can inch forward and snatch it up before retreating, getting a teeny bit closer to you each time

He also finds comfort in you patting his head - ruffling his hair and the likes - not that he'd admit to it outright

But you'll find he's more willing to incline his head towards you, especially when you're in need of a little comfort

You'll probably never really notice just how hard he's fallen for you because he won't make it obvious, but know that anything you feel for him, he feels stronger

He scares himself with how much he adores you, how much vulnerability he shows you

And that's really the only way to know you've caught him hook, line, and sinker, because under no circumstances would he let himself be so bare before simply anyone

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @lovers-on-the-eiffel @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @lychme

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hinaaspanda · 8 months

Text

the act of love | p.sh

pairing: idol actor! park sunghoon x idol actor! fem reader warnings: swearing, mentions of food + dieting, alcohol genre: enemies to lovers, secret pining, angst, slight fluff, smut: protected sex, fingering, slight dirty talk and praise wc: 10,639

Park Sunghoon was heartless; you were convinced. After selfishly leaving you for another company, Park Sunghoon was now your enemy. Now, with years past and both of your careers sky rocketing as famous idols, you thought you were done dealing with him. However, life had other plans; placing the two of you as main leads in an upcoming romantic drama!

hi! after months of writers block i am finally back with another sunghoon fic! i missed writing for my bae! also, this fic mentions idols not being allowed in relationships, so i just wanna make it clear; i know idols can probably date if they wanted to (unless theres a dating ban) and theyre entilited to their personal lives! i just wanted to add drama teehee. anyways, enjoy!

“Go out with me.”

His voice rasped against your skin, his face mere centimetres from yours; lips even closer. Puffs of the cold air sprouted at each hitched breath, every impatient inhale. Rain drizzled around you, encasing your frames like a protective barrier. The world was no one else’s but yours. The streetlamp cast a warm light against your figures; in the spotlight of your own stage. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather. It sends shivers down your spine. Your pounding heart leaped from your chest, getting stuck between the walls of your throat. His eyes bore through your frame, keeping yours locked in its grasp.

“I-”

“CUT!”

The muffled, yet heavily amplified voice of your director shocked your ears through the megaphone. Well, yours and the rest of the staff that surrounded you and your co-star. You jolted, eyes quickly scanning the filming set, complete with the fake rain machines, fans, and stage lights. Eventually they landed on your director, whose ears were practically puffing out steam.

“You’re late again, y/n!” The director irritatedly reminds you, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wince, beating yourself up for your stupid mistake. He only sighs, his face growing less red, his tone becoming more forgiving. “Memorise your queues, okay? Now, that’s a wrap for today. Good work!”

After your director finally dismisses the clamour of staff members and actors, clacks of footsteps suddenly peak from behind you. You only roll your eyes. You knew exactly who it was, and he didn’t deserve even an ounce of your attention.

Park Sunghoon. The man you hated most.

The man you were forced to work with for this stupid idol drama.

“If you needed my help you could’ve just said so,” Sunghoon crossed his arm, his face cold and indifferent. You scowled. His words may have seemed innocent, helpful even. But his snarky tone made it overwhelmingly clear; his words were nothing but harsh insults.

Park Sunghoon was just heartless like that.

“Piss off, will you? I didn’t have enough time!” You were telling the truth; your schedule had been jam packed with dance practice and promotional events—the typical life of an idol. You puff your chest out like some dumb chicken, only earning a huff from Sunghoon’s lips as he steps closer to you. You couldn’t help but notice how much he towered over your frame with his lanky one. How small locks of his hair hung above his eyes like curtains. He probably got a kick out of it all. The thought alone made you sick.

“And whose fault is that?” Sunghoon only cocked an eyebrow.

Mine, you thought bitterly. You hated when he was right.

“Why don’t you rehearse the scene where you learn to shut up?” You spat back instead. With that, you spun away from him, retreating to your change room within the filming set. Leaving Park Sunghoon to fend for himself.

Truth be told, you didn't always hate him. Years ago, you and Sunghoon were actually close. Best friends, in fact. The both of you grew up together, spent your school years together, and you shared the dream of stardom and fame. You both wanted to be idols, and so you auditioned for the same company.

Amidst all of this, the two of you swore on one sole promise; never leave the other behind. To never put the likes of stardom and fame before your friendship. Of course you were able to hold your end of the bargain. But Sunghoon? He couldn’t quite say the same.

It was two years into training with the company. Sunghoon had grown awfully distant from you. For some, the changes were subtle, practically unnoticeable. You, however, certainly noticed, but you never thought much of it. Always hiding your feelings under the guise of your busy, clashing schedules. Always making excuses for his heartless actions—until Sunghoon told you he was leaving the company.

You remembered it as if it was yesterday. His eyes held no emotion. His posture was calm, laid back. Another, bigger company, was offering him a higher pay and a debut date that was fast approaching. You thought it was crazy. You were sure he would never switch so easily. He wouldn’t break the promise the two of you made years ago. He wouldn’t betray you in just the blink of an eye.

You were wrong.

He announced that he would officially leave in a week, but his dorm was empty in just two days—it was no surprise that he lied. Nevertheless, in those same two days, you vowed to make an enemy out of Park Sunghoon; the man heartless enough to betray you.

And yet, you were here. Stuck as his co-star for an idol drama you didn’t even want. Just to listen to your company's orders. It irked you beyond belief.

You haphazardly threw your purse over your shoulder, adjusting the hem of your hoodie before heading out the door to meet your manager.

ENHYPEN’s Park Sunghoon and HEARTBEAT’s Ahn y/n to star in upcoming drama

You found yourself scowling at the article in front of you, the glare of the laptop screen burning white against the darkness of your bedroom. With a huff, your head sunk further into the plush of the pillow, your frame burying itself into the covers. Maybe then, you could hide away from this cursed reality. This cursed world in which you were stuck working with the man you loathed.

The article purged open the gates of your mind, allowing memories to seep through. Unwanted memories of Park Sunghoon. Staying up past your curfews just to practise together; ‘practising’ your vocal lessons at the karaoke bar down the street from your dorms; secretly rigging group games so the two of you ended up together. Now, they were all just bittersweet memories that plagued your mind.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you missed those times. A small sliver of you wouldn’t mind miraculously travelling back in time just to see your best friend again. To relive those memories once again.

Nevertheless, the Park Sunghoon you were forced to work with was not your childhood friend. In your eyes, he was a complete stranger.

Throwing a stuffie at your laptop, you bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your face into your knees. Even when you first reunited for the first day of shooting, that asshole didn’t even bother to apologise. You could barely recognize him.

“Throwing your stuffies at his picture won’t get rid of him, you know.” A voice rang in your ears. Kiri—your team’s main dancer and your roommate—slumped against the doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Kiri inches forward sitting on the edge of your bed as you huff a groan. “It should. You’d think we’d have the technology for it by now.”

“You think anyone’s petty enough to make something like that?”

“Not petty. Efficient,” you crossed your arms.

Kiri leaned back, tilting her head. “How are you two ever gonna work together if you can’t even stand his picture?”

“I don’t know! They probably should’ve thought of that before slapping our names on a contract neither of us even wanted!” Your arms flailed in defeat.

“Maybe it’s a sign?” Kiri hesitated. “Like—the universe wanted the two of you to make up, or something.”

Your figure erupts in laughter, but Kiri’s unflinching demeanour suggests that she wasn’t trying to make you laugh with a joke. Your giggles fizzle out within seconds. “You’re serious?”

Kiri only huffs, shooting up from her seat. “I dunno, but just give him a chance. Maybe Sunghoon changed for the better?”

You watched Kiri’s back as she trekked out of your room. You only scoffed. Now that was something impossible.

Despite the relentless physical activities, and clamour of people within the building, going to the gym was one of your favourite pastimes. It allowed you and your teammates to unwind after a long day of idol activities. All of your worries and troubles—washed away by a quick jog on the treadmill.

Right now, you needed that more than anything.

“Gonna run today?” Kiri probed, sinking into a wide leg stretch and twisting her shoulders around. You hum positive, crossing your arm over in a stretch. “Yeah, I need to clear my head.”

Kiri only nodded, yanking dumbbells off of a community rack before sinking into the first squat of her first session. You trek a few paces over to the treadmill aisles, sliding your headphones over your ears and swiping at your phone screen to play some music. Soon enough, you were off, your heels and toes pressing repeatedly onto the platform, your heart rate rising at a steady pace. Step by step, your mind was gradually clearing, de-stressing. Like a cloud flying away from an otherwise bluesky, all of your worries surrounding your idol activities, that stupid drama, and that stupid Park Sunghoon whisked themselves away. For once in what seemed like forever, you were at peace.

“y/n.”

A voice roughly jolted you back to reality. Hastily, you push your headphones off, hooking them around your neck before glancing around to find the owner of the voice. The voice that ruined your peaceful evening.

You choke.

Park Sunghoon stood before you, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned back in a nonchalant manner. You took note of his black shirt; the way it was tight enough to see his chest peeking through, the way his short sleeves were rolled up, exposing his biceps. You cursed at yourself for looking.

You simply stood there, eyes wide and spilling from their sockets. Your hand snakes up, fiddling with the treadmill dashboard to stop the equipment from moving. You cling onto the handle bars; maybe for stability, maybe for protection. You weren’t sure. You glance to the side, another figure taking up your view. He looked vaguely familiar; you’ve probably seen him during live shows before. A gulp runs down your throat as you collect yourself.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, your eyes glance at his pecks. Bruh. “I came here to work out. What’s wrong with that?”

“Isn’t there another gym near you?”

“This is my gym. I go here regularly.”

Your brows furrow. “What? This is my gym! I never see you here.”

“That’s a you problem,” Sunghoon tilted his head coyly, earning a groan from you. Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m not here for you. Jake wanted to say hi.”

Sunghoon jutted a thumb at the man beside him. His face held a wide grin as he held out his hand. You clung onto his palm in a swift hand shake, a smile now plastered onto your face. Jake’s eye smile never went away as he introduced himself.

“I’m Jake, one of Sunghoon’s teammates! So nice to finally meet you!”

With a grin, you reciprocate his kind words. The two of you fell into wholesome small talk, completely forgetting the nuisance beside you. You already liked this guy way more. You and Jake talked endlessly about your similar hobbies, your overlapping interests. You enjoyed it, talking to the personified bundle of joy. It made you wonder why he was friends with someone like Sunghoon.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, the sudden boom startling both you and Jake.

“Let’s head back, man. I wanna get started on my reps.”

Jake only glanced back before turning around to face you, waving his hand at Sunghoon. “Start without me. I’ll catch up later.”

Sunghoon grumbled, turning around before marching over to the dumbbells. Only after he turned around did you notice the shells of his ears burning bright pink. Weird.

You and Jake continued but something was off. You couldn’t quite focus. As the two of you were about to enter the conversation topic of favourite foods, your stubborn eyes began to wander to the view of Park Sunghoon. You watched as he sat hunched over on a random bench, his hands clinging onto a dumbbell as he curled the equipment up to his chin, and back down slowly. You watched as his muscles tensed, his sweat beaded off of his face, drenching his hairline. He looked good; and you hated it.

Sunghoon’s eyes darted towards you, scanning back and forth between you and Jake. His eyes burned a hole through his teammate’s chest. His tongue poked beneath his cheek before his eyes darted away. Watching him, you found your heart racing. Odd, considering you hadn’t been running for a while. Something was really wrong with you.

You waited for Jake to leave before collecting your belongings and dashing off the treadmill. You made a b-line for Kiri, innocently working out. Kiri glances up, a confused and weary look on her face. “You good?”

“No.” You murmur, your heart racing even more. What was going on? “I wanna go home.”

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director’s voice echoed through the building, signalling the end of another successful shoot, but you could barely pay any mind. Not with your stomach grumbling like a lion dying of hunger.

This should’ve been an easy fix. With the table of refreshments, reserved just for the staff and cast members just 4 paces away from you, it was easy for anyone to take a quick bit and become instantly satisfied. Yet,your case was awfully special. You were currently on a diet.

It was a common occurrence for someone in the industry in order to look your best in time for a special event. With group activities fast approaching for you and your group, the practice of dieting was natural to expect.

Suddenly, the crackles of an open wrapper stung through your ears. Your head snaps to the sound, your senses heightened by the possibility of food. You squinted to get a better look. An overly seasoned rice ball, burning auburn in colour, with a dark strip of crispy seaweed running down the middle. It was a sight for sore eyes; your mouth watered. The way the oil glistened under the setlights above, the way each rice grain fell between the perfect balance of crisp and chewy, it all made your cravings skyrocket. You were about to take a step towards the godlike piece of food before your eyes remembered to scan the rest of the figure; the owner of the seaweed-wrapped gold.

You stopped.

It was Park Sunghoon. He was the one digging into the last riceball from the refreshments table. He was the one responsible for your suffering.

Your mind replays images from the gym; your last unfortunate encounter with the man you hated. The way your eyes wandered to places you didn’t want to see, the way your heart raced at his presence. It all stung you. And yet, here he was, making his way over to you. You found yourself coddling your stomach.

“What do you want?”

“You were the one staring at me, y/n.”

You gulp. You try to look away from the bothersome man, you really did. However, with Sunghoon bringing the rice ball closer and closer to your starving frame, facing away from him was even hard to manage. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two from his mouth watering snack.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” You only gulp. Were you that obvious?

You stepped back from the idol. “I’m dieting. Everything makes me hungry.” You noticed your words wavering at the last half or your sentence.

Slowly, you walked away. You were expecting that interaction to be over, anyway. There was no use talking to him if he wasn’t going to provide you with any sort of solace. And besides, this was Park Sunghoon. Since when did you give him the light of day?

“There’s a convenience store down the street,” You heard Sunghoon’s voice as he jogged over to your escaping frame. “Let’s go.”

The convenience store? With Park Sunghoon?

“Are you dumb? My manager will kill me!”

A sudden warmth ghosted around the curve of your wrist. Sunghoon’s fingers clung gently around your skin, dragging your frame closer to his.

“We’ll be quick.”

Running. You and Park Sunghoon were running. Pushing past the equipment and staff members scattered across the filming set, all yelling at you to come back. With your hand in his, and an optimal view of Sunghoon’s back, the two of you dashed out of the filming set doors, escaping into the daylight. It was odd. It was as if the world surrounding you completely vanished, leaving the two of you secluded. Just for this maybe 5 minute run to the convenience store, the world was your and yours alone.

“You’re paying?”

“Yeah. You need to eat.”

Your brows furrowed. Since when did he care?

Your shoulder was nudged, and a rice ball fell into your hand. Your eyes met Sunghoon’s, whose eyes were already on you. “Here.”

You clear your throat. Your voice was small; an attempt to hide your fluttering heart. “Thanks.”

You dash in front of him, not wanting to look at him more than you needed to. This was the end of it all, anyways. You got what you wanted, and you were now on your merry way.

“Wait—” A tug on your wrist once again. Sunghoon pulled your frame close to his chest, away from the sliding doors behind you.

“Let’s stay here. Our managers will both have our heads if they see where we are,” Sunghoon huffed a chuckle.

“You only realised that now?”

“Just eat your rice ball” Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Unwrapping the golden deity of rice and seaweed, you and Sunghoon step to the side, huddling together at the corner of the lottery ticket station. The silver light above you flickered, the buzzing of the electricity humming across the entire room. However, you couldn’t give your surroundings even a sliver of your attention. You were too busy dying of hunger to care.

“Look at you two!” The honey-like voice of an elderly woman seeped through your ears, breaking your attention away from your feast. It was the cashier, taking 5 from her work. “What a cute couple you are!”

You choked on your rice. A couple? Was that what the two of you looked like? Sure, Sunghoon bought your food for you, and you did just come running into the store holding hands. You sort of understood the confusion. But hell, was this lady ever wrong. Never in a million years would Park Sunghoon come close to someone you’d want to be a couple with. You would never give the thought the light of day. Dating Park Sunghoon? Nice try. He would need a heart of his own before getting a chance at capturing yours.

You shined a bogus smile. “Oh no—”

“Thank you!” Sunghoon’s voice collided with yours. You choke on your rice again, despite no rice being ingested to begin with. Maybe you were simply choking on the audacity Park Sunghoon had at this very moment. You step up, desperately in need of clearing up the miscommunication, but the lady was already occupied with her next customer. You huff a sigh, returning to the last bites of your blessed rice ball.

As you shoved the remaining food into your jacket, you and Sunghoon slip out of the convenience store, a cloud rumbling over your head, and your cheeks erupting into flames. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Grumbling, you turn to him.

“What was that!?” Your voice squeaked a little.

Sunghoon only shrugged, throwing his elbows in the air and his palms at the back of his head. “I couldn’t correct that sweet old lady! Plus, it’s not like we’re ever gonna see her again.”

The speed in which Sunghoon dismissed the situation agitated you to your core, but you couldn’t help but notice the shell of Sunghoon’s ear flashing red again.

Currently, you sat on the curb as you took 5 from an outdoor shoot. Knees tucked into your chest, and your lunch balancing on your kneecaps, you munched on your food peacefully. The sky that was suspended over your head painted a simple wash of blue. It carried a few splotches of white clouds, the same way your brain carried few thoughts in its head. For the first time in a while, your mind was at peace.

A certain warmth ghosted your side, snapping you out of your peaceful trance. It was Sunghoon, choosing to sit right next to you. Sunghoon waited a few paces before taking a bite of his lunch. Only then did he consider looking over at you. You, however, were already looking in his direction. Baffled.

“Relax. This was the only place I could sit.”

You grumbled under your breath.

You glance at Sunghoon’s lunch. A simple fruit salad; pieces of fruit cubed and tossed together in a plastic bowl. You watched as Sunghoon periodically pushed the mountain of mangoes further into the corner, minimising the chances of them mixing into the rest of his salad. Suddenly, memories from your trainee days flooded your brain. Memories of Sunghoon scooping the mangoes off of a fruit cake; of Sunghoon wincing the moment he tasted mangoes in his fruit cup; of Sunghoon always remembering to give you the pieces he never wanted because he knew you liked them.

Your chest twinged.

“You still don’t like mangoes?” Your words were uttered before you could think them through. You wince; only now realising that the usage of ‘still’ implies that you remembered the past. Fuck.

You watch the corner of Sunghoon’s lip twitch up before his head hangs down, as if he was trying to hide a smile. “You still remember that?”

You stayed silent. The answer was obvious, unfortunately. A lump jumped from your throat. “You’re still weird for that, by the way. Who the hell doesn’t like mangoes?”

“They're always bad. Too sour.”

“You’re just bad at picking them out.”

“Also they’re slimy. Gross.”

“They’re not—” You heave a sigh. “You’re so dumb.”

The two of you pause, your eyes holding onto each other as if a thread had hung in the balance. As if on queue, the two of you suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. You didn’t know exactly what came over you at that moment. It was as if your body had become possessed, manoeuvred by a puppet master. Yet somehow, sitting here, on this random curb, laughing with Park Sunghoon—it brought you a strange sense of comfort.

As the laughter dialled down, and the two you grew silent, Sunghoon still held onto your attention. Slowly, Sunghoon picked off the mango cubes from his bowl, reached over and plopped down onto yours. You only looked up at him, confused.

“They’re your favourite, right?” Sunghoon simply asked, a grin stretching across his face. Your stomach felt queasy. “You’re not the only one who remembers, you know.”

Why was your heart racing?

Today was the day. The day you dreaded the most.

“You’ve already survived this far, I really doubt today’s gonna be any different,” Kiri reasoned from her end of the company van. You hated how logical and indifferent she was, and how you were the complete opposite right now.

You curled up in a ball on your car seat, your forehead resting on your knees. “Do you even know what scene we’re filming?”

Kiri only huffed as the company van slowly pulled into the driveway. “Yes, y/n. You’ve only told me everyday for the past week.” You huffed. So much for having a friend who understood you.

The van shifted into park, and Kiri released herself from the confines of her seat belt. With one last glance back at you, your teammate hops out of her car door, making her way to her individual schedule for the day. It took you every ounce of energy in your body to not reach over and grab her in a tight hug; steal her for yourself and your much needed moral support.

“You’ll be okay, y/n. Trust me.” The car door slammed shut.

Kiri definitely could not be trusted. Not when the particular scene you had scheduled was a kiss scene. With the one and only Park Sunghoon. You had every right to be just a little bit panicked.

The director’s run down of today’s schedule seemed shorter than usual. Or maybe it wasn’t—maybe you were just desperate to stall the inevitable. Either way, you still found yourself sitting behind the snack table. It was the corner of the room; the farthest corner from the filming set. The set you’d soon occupy with the man of the hour.

Park Sunghoon was the man you hated. He was the man that broke your promise, leaving you to bask in your loneliness. He was the man that abandoned your friendship in favour of fame. You hated him for all of it. Kissing Park Sunghoon went against everything your entire being had to offer.

And yet, you couldn’t get the thought of him out of your mind.

You let your stubborn eyes wander as you stood in the middle of the scene. Now, you were in-between takes, and you simply stood there as a makeup artist touched up Sunghoon’s face. Slowly, your eyes approached him. In the next 5 minutes, you would’ve kissed him, and this will all be over.

In 5 minutes. you would have kissed Park Sunghoon.

You’ll kiss Park Sunghoon.

“I’m yours, Choi Min Ah. No one else’s.” Sunghoon’s toasted breath wrapped your skin in a blanket of warmth. His voice was sweet; dipped in honey. Or, his character, Kwang Ill Han’s voice was. That’s who the voice belonged to—not Sunghoon. Recently, you’ve been having a difficult time differentiating the two. Sunghoon folded a hand over your cheek, slowly and gently linking his lips with yours. You crashed into the plush of his lips, your skin swiping at his. Your heart was racing again.

This was the kiss scene between Choi Min Ah and Kwang Ill Han. Not yours. So why was it affecting you?

The director yells cut, and the last scene for the day finishes. The clamour of staff members and actors run around, preparing to leave. However, you simply stood there. Trapped in the middle of the filming platform. Trapped in your own thoughts. Thoughts that Park Sunghoon had selfishly plagued.

You knew it was childish. You knew it was stupid. But it was what you needed to quell your erratic heart.

So you ran.

Park Sunghoon was a selfish prick.

It was the thought that tainted Sunghoon’s mind as he watched you escape the film set earlier that afternoon, and it stayed plaguing his mind for the duration of that evening—even until he got home. He sunk into the plush of the couch, not bothering to pay any mind to the colossal mess his members left in the living room. Instead, Sunghoon simply gazed at the lamp above him, glowing a deep amber—letting his thoughts eat him alive.

He let himself get carried away.

Sunghoon knew this would happen. He knew the risks that laced the opportunity of a reunion with you. He knew that, at just the slightest chance, Sunghoon would fall in love with you all over again. And, as far as his career was concerned; falling in love was forbidden.

It all started years ago, a couple of years after the two of you joined the same entertainment company—though Sunghoon remembered it like it was yesterday. Sunghoon had just finished up his vocal lessons for the evening when the company CEO sat Sunghoon down in front of a laptop. It was littered with pictures that Sunghoon was a part of. However, all these shots had one thing in common; they were all pictures of you and him. Pictures of Sunghoon staring into your eyes lovingly as you decorated a cake for your group leader, of Sunghoon intimately adjusting your hair, clueless to the cameras filming you. Pictures of Sunghoon that expose his feelings for you.

In other words; a relationship rumour was bound to spread, if it hadn’t already, and Park Sunghoon was screwed.

The CEO goes on to tell Sunghoon the dangers that this holds. How a dating rumour during their trainee years had a greater chance of ruining their careers, their images. He scolded Sunghoon for being dumb and reckless. It was natural; you had a knack for making Sunghoon go crazy ever since he first met you in grade school. Park Sunghoon was smitten for you, and now he finally had to pay the price.

The CEO, however, proposes a solution that would dial down the situation. Sunghoon would transfer to BELIFT LAB, a company in need of a male trainee for an upcoming debut of their new boy group. With Sunghoon now out of the way, there would be no room for rumours between the two trainees to spread. And with the sudden news of Sunghoon signing with a new company ranking first in the spotlight, dedicated fans were bound to simply forget any rumours would even exist.

Sunghoon didn’t know much when it came to this line of work. So, he agreed to the scheme. Anything to keep his career, and you, safe.

The hardest part about it all was keeping it a secret from you. It was on company’s orders; you didn’t have a clue what was going on at the time, so it was best to just leave you in your blissful ignorance. The company ordered him to distance himself from you. To break away from the bond the two of you shared for years. It was no wonder you hated him; you had every right. And so, Park Sunghoon tried to shut down his feelings for you. Hiding his heart behind a fake persona that hated you the same way you hated him—thorns against his skin. Nevertheless, it was the only way to keep you somewhat in his life.

Park Sunghoon knew it was bad news when he found out the two of you would reunite under the shackles of this web drama project. Park Sunghoon knew he couldn’t control himself around you; that you knew just how to drive his heart crazy. That was exactly why he was left here, alone in the living room, with the image of you running away from him replaying in his brain.

His feelings for you have sparked once again. He wasn’t quite sure if they even left to begin with.

But there was no way in hell your feelings would ever reciprocate. Not in a million years. It was clear the moment you ran away from him.

A ping! jumps from Sunghoon’s phone, the light from the screen catching his attention. His thumb swipes at the notification; a message from his manager. It reveals a calendar with the upcoming weekend highlighted a bright green. The coloured boxes read only one sentence, but it was a sentence that would be burned in Sunghoon’s brain for a lifetime.

FILMING AT JEJU - WEEKEND SHOOT + WRAP UP PARTY

A weekend away at Jeju island. With you.

Sunghoon’s heart leaped from his chest.

Jeju island was a tourist spot most notably known for its beach resorts, pearl blue ocean water, and unique cuisine. For most, it’s considered a home away from home, a paradise to let your hair down, to destress from the chaos of life.

For you, however, it’s a different story.

“There must’ve been some mistake!” Your manager’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. You still managed to hear her loud and clear despite sitting across the large room. “You mean there’s no room booked?”

The hotel staff only glared back at your manager, face deadpan. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t see your name on the list. We’re fully booked at the moment. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

With a huff escaping her lips, your manager treks back to your figure, her shoulders slumped to the ground. You didn’t even need to ask. Based on her defeated demeanour, and the fact that you overheard the whole conversation from where you sat, you understood; you had no place to stay. Here you were; in the paradise of Jeju Island, homeless for the weekend. Stress washed over you.

Your manager whips her phone out, swiping aggressively as she buried her face into the screen. “I’m so sorry, y/n, but we’re gonna have to find a motel tonight. I’ll look for the nearest one right now.”

“That isn’t necessary, miss.” A voice perks up behind you. A voice that needed no introduction as your frame froze in its place. Sunghoon sauntered away from his visibly worried manager, and towards your sunken figures, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “You two can stay with me and my manager.”

You choked. What sick game was Sunghoon playing?

Your manager politely waves her hands to refuse, but you quickly step in, hands crossed over your puffed chest as an act of defence. You barely even managed to keep steady eye contact. “We don’t want your help. A motel will do just fine.”

“No one should have to pay extra just for a motel,” Sunghoon reasons, not backing down. “We also booked the deluxe suite; there’s plenty of room for the four of us.”

Your manager’s resolve quickly faded away the moment Sunghoon mentioned paying extra for a last minute room. Her eyes grew wary, shaky. The harsh reality of finances crashing down on her in an instant. She wasn’t going to give in so easily, was she?

She was.

She looked at you with doe-like eyes. “We should accept their offer, y/n. It’s only for the weekend.”

Before you knew it, you and your bags were being taken up to the top floor of the hotel. Into the deluxe suite that belonged to the one and only Park Sunghoon.

A defeated sigh. It was the only reaction your body could muster amidst the sheer buffoonery of your current situation. Being forced to room with the man that drove you crazy; how's that for comedy?

You shot up from the edge of the bed, the thought of your depressing situation suddenly parching your throat. You pivot towards the kitchen, attempting to pay no mind to the series of zips and rummaging of luggage currently happening in the living room. You didn’t want to give Sunghoon the light of day, even if he was just innocently unpacking his suitcase.

Crisp ice water slides down your throat as your eyes wander. Stubbornly. Eventually landing on the man you swore you would ignore.

His eyes were on you, too.

You quickly dart away, your heart beating rapidly.

Sunghoon roughly clears his throat, the sound echoing around the walls of the living room. You glance back, watching him cling unto the nape of his neck with one hand, while the other loosely tosses a card onto the armrest of the couch. Almost immediately after, Sunghoon turned away from you. “Here’s the second keycard—your manager forgot to pick it up before she left.”

You only nodded, shuffling over to retrieve it. Of course he didn’t consider throwing it somewhere actually close to you.

The closer you got to the furniture, the more Sunghoon’s belongings appeared before you. His sweaters and shirts were folded in a neat and compact manner and sitting at the corner of the couch, his towel draped over the backrest. Miscellaneous items were littered across the surface of the couch, items you didn’t pay much attention to. Except for one.

A polaroid stuck out of Sunghoon’s wallet. You checked to see if Sunghoon was watching before snatching it away. It was an image of a younger Sunghoon standing in the middle, holding up a cake as frosting was smudged on his nose and cheek. A wide grin was plastered on his face as other trainees surrounded him. You were in the picture, too, right by his side as you held onto one side of the cake. A finger covered in frosting suggests that you were the culprit of his smudged face. He didn’t seem to care, considering Sunghoon’s cheeky grin was directed at you. Devil horns were drawn on Sunghoon’s head, and a messy heart was traced around your face.

A date was etched into the bottom of the polaroid. 12/08/2018. Sunghoon’s birthday; the last birthday he had before leaving the company. Your eyes widen, heart racing.

Why would he keep something like this?

“You still have this?” Your voice trembled. Sunghoon’s head whips back to find you holding the polaroid, his eyes widened in surprise. He treks over to you, swatting the picture away from your hands. “What are you doing!?”

You fidget with your fingers, eyes gazing on the carpet. How long has he had that picture? What did that mean? You look up at Sunghoon once again, slow steps bringing you closer to his frame.

“Why do you still have this?”

“I just do.” Sunghoon’s eyes held yours hostage. He didn’t say much, yet the weight of his stare was enough to move worlds.

His eyes quickly diverted from your gaze as he continued to unpack. You nipped at your lip; Sunghoon’s answer wasn’t enough. Questions spiralled in your head. Your world was unravelling before you. You retired back to your room, your back keeping the door shut. Your face was flushed, your chest heaved.

What was Park Sunghoon doing to you?

“We’ll have you two start from the couch and then move onto the bed. We’ll end the scene when Sunghoon takes his shirt off.” Your director instructs, his hands blocking the scene directions on your last official filming session.

Normally, you would’ve been elated at that fact. However, if this trip has proven anything to you, it's that the universe wants you to suffer. And so, this exciting final scene you were currently stuck filming was none other than a steamy makeout session between the two main characters at a romantic getaway.

Fear shot down your spine, your brain hot-wiring at that very moment. You were already overwhelmed with the revelation that Sunghoon’s polaroid from last night brought you. By then, your heart was already leaping from your chest. The last thing you needed was to lock lips with the man responsible for your malfunctioning brain.

Nevertheless, you hiked towards the couch like a mindless drone. You’ve given up on fighting for what you want. Sitting on the couch, you suddenly grew overwhelmingly conscious of your clothes—or lack thereof. You dawned a tank top etched in lace trim, shorts of the same pattern, and a satin robe to cover your arms. You knew that this outfit was necessary for the scene, but that didn’t stop fear from shooting down your spine.

Sunghoon soon joins you on the couch, dawning a simple white button down, with a few buttons undone—exposing his bare chest. Instinctively, you hug your chest, shielding your skin with the satin fabric of your robe. You caught a glance of his collarbones, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. Heat creeped against your cheeks.

Sunghoon averted his gaze from you, yet you still felt as though all attention was within your grasp. His hand rested on his knee, fingers fidgeting the wrinkles of his trousers.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable, alright? I’ll stop—even if the scene isn’t finished.”

There he was, reassuring you like the caring asshole he is. Your heart leaped.

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long before your lips were snug against his, his weight overpowering yours as he moved to lay on top of you. Sunghoon’s hand snaked against your jaw, gently creeping further to the back of your head to provide you a makeshift headrest. Your hands reached up around his neck and his shirt collar, pulling his frame closer against your exposed chest. Sunghoon’s skin was warm. His other hand grips your waist, a finger poking beneath your shield of fabric. His touch was soft.

Your heart was pounding so hard, it pulsated through your ears.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself.

Your breaths grew hazy as Sunghoon lifted your frame into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips instantly—clockwork. In just a few steps, Sunghoon’s knees reached the edge of the bed. He laid you back down gently, your frame sinking into the plush of the bed. Your arms refused to let go, holding him closer for more kisses. Your stomach flipped in on itself. Sunghoon gently pulled himself away, standing up straight. You watched as his hands trailed up to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Within seconds, Sunghoon slipped the white fabric off of his broad shoulders, tossing it aside before bending back down to meet your lips once more. Your fingertips grazed against his skin tracing his shoulder blades. His skin grew warmer against your touch, as if you were lighting him on fire.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself once more.

“CUT!” Your director’s voice pierced through your ears, pulling you back to reality. Sunghoon immediately jumps off of you, trekking off to retrieve his shirt back. His back was turned towards you, but a quick glance could confirm his cheeks were currently flaring red. You, however, couldn’t say much on the matter—you were in even more of a mess than he was.

The two of you linked eyes for a split second, tension fogging up the air around you. All while your heart was still pounding so loud your ears could hear.

Distracted. Park Sunghoon was distracted. And it was all thanks to you.

The spice of liquor scratched against his throat, the ice cubes kissing his lips. He huffed a sigh, running a hand through his hair for the umteenth time that evening of the wrap up party. He didn’t even bother listening to the boring speech his director was giving, or anyone else who was talking that night—it all washed away, like grains of sand parallel to a body of water.

Sunghoon couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing this feeling. Maybe it was the fact that he so foolishly let you stay over in his hotel room. Now, he was stuck sleeping just a few paces away from the woman he loved but couldn’t have. Torture. He gulped down another sour sip. Or maybe it was the way you kissed him that afternoon. Even if it was just for a simple scene, the way you melted into his lips made Sunghoon wish everything was real. Maybe he was drunk on your kisses, and a little bit of booze, too.

His eyes wandered, only to be led straight to you. With a glass of wine in your hand, you stood in a small huddle consisting of your manager and a few other faces Sunghoon couldn’t recognize.

Maybe it was the way you glistened without the need for any light. You lit the dim banquet hall up with your smile. The smile Sunghoon missed so dearly.

Another gulp.

Or maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even spare Sunghoon a glance since the wrap up party. The way he had let himself get carried away trying to get close to you, and ultimately driving you further away. Maybe Sunghoon just needed to finally accept everything.

A distraction. You needed a distraction. From Park Sunghoon, specifically.

Park Sunghoon had unwantedly staked his claim on your brain for longer than you wanted. The man you knew to be selfish and cruel, willing to break your friendship in the blink of an eye, was turning your world upside down. He was caring for you, ensuring your comfort, putting you first. It all confused you, set your brain into overdrive.

And that polaroid. The picture the size of your palm, capable of burning everything you knew into flames of the unknown. It left you with endless questions; though one stood out like a sore thumb.

Did Sunghoon miss you?

That was an absurd thought.

Nevertheless, it was a thought that nipped and itched at your brain for the rest of the evening, and you needed a way out. Your first course of action was to hide. Sitting at a table that was oceans away from where Sunghoon and his manager sat during your director’s long and drawn out speech. Shoving and squeezing yourself into groups of people you barely knew; you basically trailed your manager around like a lost puppy.

When you weren’t wandering around aimlessly, however, you were tucked away in the washrooms, calling Kiri as you sat hunched over on a closed toilet seat, whisper-shouting as you explained the escalated situation.

“Just ask him, y/n.” Kiri huffed over the phone. “It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“I can’t just approach him!”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I just can’t think straight around him! He’s constantly on my mind and he drives me crazy! I think my blood pressure spikes the moment I’m near him—”

“y/n?” Kiri interrupts. You gulp. “Yeah?”

“Do you like Sunghoon?”

You choked, turning a few heads of guests washing their hands at the bathroom sink. Was Kiri being serious? You didn’t like Sunghoon. He drove you clinically insane, he was so unpredictable it made you want to rip your own hair out. Whenever you were around him, your heart stubbornly danced beneath your chest, your mind went haywire.

Oh god.

You liked Park Sunghoon.

“I-I have to go.” You hung up at the speed of light.

You didn’t need a distraction. You needed answers.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you scanned the venue. Your eyes landed on a glass of wine resting in someone’s hand. Your eyes then pivot to the open bar, empty and barren. A lightbulb springs from your head.

The last thing Sunghoon expected to see tonight was you, piss drunk and toppled over on the counter of the open bar.

Your face was hidden in the nest of your forearms, your hair was messy and spread out. Sunghoon was positive a strand or two had fallen into your mouth. Peaking through the bush of your hair, Sunghoon gazed at your droopy eyes, eyelids practically sealed shut by fatigue. Empty glasses outlined your figure, but you couldn’t bother to pay it any mind. The outside world didn’t matter when you were this drunk.

That was the problem. You couldn’t care less about your surroundings; it was dangerous.

Sunghoon nipped at his lips, his eyes holding onto your frame like his life depended on it. He knew leaving you alone and unattended was irresponsible, that it would place your life in grave danger. You were smack dab in the middle of a social event, strangers littered all around you. Anything could happen at any moment.

Nevertheless, Sunghoon also knew your current resolve when it came to him. He knew you hated him, you couldn’t stand being near him. A hand ran through his hair. Would he even be of any help?

Sunghoon sighed, drilling his hands through his pockets. Someone else could probably help you just fine. You probably didn’t need him.

In 3 seconds he changed his mind.

A fire burned in his chest, his jaw tensing as he saw your passed out frame. Sunghoon marched over to your seat, his blazer slipping off of his shoulders and into his hands. Sunghoon soon spread the blazer over your shoulders, which were exposed and laced with goosebumps from the air-conditioned room. He caught the attention of people passing by when he pulled your frame up by your shoulders, gently resting your head against his chest as he swung down to pick up your legs. He swung your frame away from the open bar and out of the banquet hall.

He trudged towards the hotel elevators, your figure slumped in his arms. He couldn’t help but glance at your sleeping frame.

Even now, you looked beautiful as ever.

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with two things; the hotel room’s ceiling, and Park Sunghoon’s blazer enveloping your torso.

Your stomach was flipping in on itself, your heart racing. It actually worked. Your suspicions were right. Park Sunghoon actually brought you to your hotel room—your and his room, anyway.

To say that you didn’t feel just a little bit guilty would be a big understatement. Pretending you were drunk out of your mind at an open bar, hoping the man you just found out you had feelings for would see you and take you to his room just to test whether or not he cared for you—maybe it wasn’t the best idea. You, however, were desperate. You needed to know where Sunghoon’s heart stood.

As you rose up into a sitting position, A figure shuffled into the room. A figure that needed no introduction.

“You’re not really drunk, are you?” Sunghoon accused, a hand dropping a glass of water gently onto the desk left of his hips. You only gulp, murmuring your response.

“M-maybe.”

Exasperated, Sunghoon heaves a deep sigh. His head is thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You watched as he shuffled over to you, his figure plopping onto the edge of your bed.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

Sunghoon’s eyes held you hostage, boring into you. As if he was reaching into your soul and claiming it as his own. You, however, stood still, in a trance. Unable to move under his presence. A blanket of silence fell on top of you—it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat pulsating in your ears. Quickly, you snap out of your trance, eyes severing the contact as you scurried away from his frame.

“Then don’t get so scared.” you spat defensively.

Sunghoon clung onto the nape of his neck. “How could I not? It’s dangerous—”

“Just—stop it already!” you snapped, interrupting him as your palms pushed into the mattress. “Stop getting scared for me, caring for me—stop that!”

Sunghoon's eyes gaze down at his feet before trailing up to meet yours. As you continue, your eyes couldn’t help but follow suit, hanging onto his gaze like your life depended on it. You shoot up from your spot on the bed, your heart stuck in your windpipe as you towered over him.

“You’re supposed to hate me! Call me names, make fun of me. Instead, you’re this caring, sweet guy that I can’t stop thinking about! I mean, we’re supposed to be enemies. You know, when you left the agency that day; when you left me that day, I swore I would hate you with all my heart. How the hell are you gonna be my enemy when my heart races at the thought of you? If you’re all that's on my mind?”

You gulp. “How the hell am I supposed to hate you when I like you so much?”

“You like me?”

A hand slapped over your mouth. Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you. His jaw practically grazed the floor. He blinked a few times as your heartbeat pounded again in your ears.

“Leaving the agency was never my choice.” Sunghoon’s voice was hushed.

What?

Slowly you sat down. Sunghoon watched you, his eyes holding yours hostage the entire time you sunk down onto your side of the bed.

“I know that this sounds like some sick excuse, but I never wanted to leave. The CEO saw how close we were during our days as trainees, and thought that it would threaten our careers if we ever had any rumours spread about us.” A hand brushed over Sunghoon’s hair. “So, he asked me to leave. The CEO had no plans on telling you about any of this, so I had to keep it from you, too.”

Suddenly, Sunghoon slid off of the bed, kneeling before your figure. He gazed up at you once more. “I’m sorry—for everything.”

Your heart was racing. Sunghoon continued. “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you, for leaving you that day. None of that would’ve happened if I was careful, if my heart wasn’t so stubborn.”

“What are you saying?” Your voice trembled.

Sunghoon heaved a deep sigh. “I liked you, y/n. I liked you so much that I could barely keep it in, barely keep composure. I tried my hardest to get over you, but it was no use.”

Sunghoon’s eyes glistened under the amber hotel lights. “I knew my feelings for you only grew.”

A thread hung in the balance as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes—a thread you wouldn’t dare sever, never in this lifetime. You watched as they sparkled; held the stars beneath their surface. You watched as they stared lovingly at you, yet hungry for you all at the same time. You also watched as your own hands grew minds of their own, reaching out to Sunghoon’s cheek before stopping mid-air. “Sunghoon?”

“Hm?”

“I think I need to kiss you.”

As he pressed your trembling hands up against his soft cheek, Sunghoon’s lips folded up into a grin, his voice melting like honey. “I’m all yours.”

Park Sunghoon tasted sweet against your lips— Sweet floral scents, most likely his cologne, puffed out from his frame as you held him close. You snaked an arm around his neck, fingers clinging around the nape. His palms hooked onto your waist, fingertips digging into your skin. As if you were minutes away from leaving his touch; he wasn’t about to let that happen again. Your grip on him grew tighter, too. You didn’t want him slipping from your fingertips either. Never again.

A part of you felt warm and fuzzy; this kiss was real.

With his weight overtaking you, Sunghoon leans further into the kiss, his lips pushing deep into yours. Your shoulders press deep into the plush of the mattress as his figure shells over you, shielding you from the outside world. Fireworks pop against your skin. Your stomach flips in on itself each time Sunghoon nibbles at your bottom lip; teasing you. Your hands roam around his back, tracing each bump and crevice of his body, relishing in his touch. His palm cradled your head, lacing between your hair strands. It was as if you were floating on a cloud.

With one swipe of his tongue at your lips, Sunghoon deepened your kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His movements grow rash, fierce. As if he’d been starving for centuries; and you were his next meal. His hand glides up and down your waist, your skin tight dress doing nothing to conceal the friction. Heat bundles up between your legs.

You wanted more.

A moan slips from your lips, entrapped in your kiss. That, however, didn’t stop Sunghoon from hearing you loud and clear; from igniting a flame within his chest. With you, his mind was a ticking bomb. Gently, Sunghoon pushes away from the kiss, his breath hazing against your lips. His eyes flickered open, immediately gazing down at you.

“How far are we going, tonight?” Sunghoon huffed. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

Your fingers traced his muscles. They were tense and flexed; he was clearly restraining himself. Stopping himself from indulging in you like some beast. You gazed up at him. The way his collar bones peaked through his neckline, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink; as if he was drunk on your presence. The way his hair hung over his starry eyes.

You’ve never felt more certain of something in your life.

Your hand cradled Sunghoon’s cheeks. “I want you, Hoonie. All of you.

At the sound of your nickname, Sunghoon’s eyes grew hungry, dark as he harshly pressed into your lips. His tongue slid up against yours. They tangle, intertwine; eliciting another mewl from your lips. Sunghoon was certain his brain short circuited at your voice. Slyly, Sunghoon pressed his knee against your inner thigh, outlining its frame before slowly inching closer to your centre. The pressure sent shivers down your spine, your back instinctively arching forwards. Like you were aching to be closer, to hold him tighter.

Sunghoon’s knee pressed further into your clothed core; one that was practically soaked. He moved the knee up and down, left to right; your brows furrowed in euphoria. A full, booming moan echoed, earning a needy grunt from the man who drove you insane.

“That sound is driving me crazy, baby.” Sunghoon gritted through his teeth. “Moan more for me, yeah?”

You didn’t even need to try.

Slowly, Sunghoon peppered kisses down your jaw, sucking against your searing skin. With a hand at the small of your back, Sunghoon lifts you up from the bed, his hand trailing up and fiddling with the zipper of your dress. He pulls the zipper down, and you’ve never been more grateful for built-in bra pads. His lips, however, never once breached contact, his lips gently migrating down to your collar bones, your chest, and eventually the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched as you felt his warmth circulate your nipples. Sunghoon takes a breast into his lips, his tongue swirling and flicking against your stiffened. You whimper at the contact, your core pooling in lust.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

After blindly searching for his hand, you tug on his wrist, positioning it between his thighs. Sunghoon smirked against your skin, the vibrations of his chuckle shuddering through your body—he heard you, loud and clear. After pulling down the rest of your dress, Sunghoon feathers his touch against your inner thighs, teasing you. You throw your head back, swimming in ecstasy.

Softly, too soft, he drew circles around your clothed pussy. He grazed against your clit, driving you crazy. For a split second, Sunghoon parted his lips from your skin, moving up to meet your ear. “Where do you want my fingers, darling?”

You whimper, trying to find the words as Sunghoon toyed with your folds beneath the fabric. “In—fuck—inside. Please.”

In an instant, Sunghoon pushed aside the measly fabric, finding your core dripping in heat; dripping for him. A digit slides into your folds, exploring your walls. He pumps his finger slowly, in and out as your back arches in desire. Your body spazzed and jolted. His knuckles grazed against your walls as he pumped faster and faster. Sunghoon slyly pushes in another finger, and then another, stretching your pussy around the width. You felt every inch of him, every section of his skin. As his pumps grow faster, harsher, Sunghoon’s fingers curl inwards, hitting your spot.

You couldn’t keep in your noises, your lew moan bouncing against the walls, the same way your hips bounced against his fingers. In a weak effort to quiet down, you bite your finger. Sunghoon, however, quickly notices, gripping your hand by the wrist. “Don’t—I wanna hear you, princess.”

You only whimper a response, your legs growing further apart with each pump of his fingers. A knot begins to crumple together at the pit of your stomach, your moans growing louder and louder. You found yourself shouting Sunghoon’s name without realising it, gripping into his skin. Sunghoon dips his hips against your bare core, pressing his digits further into you. You felt a tenting sensation against your core.

The knot grew tighter and tighter as Sunghoon’s pumps grew hasty and messy. Wet sloshes echo in the room, though they were overpowered by your lust-ridden mewls. Sunghoon grinds into you, the metal of his belt buckle shocking your core frozen.

“Cum on me, princess.” Sunghoon demands.

On cue, the knot finally pops open, and juices drip out of your pussy as you scream out his name. It coated your walls, his fingers, even the bed beneath you. Sunghoon made sure you watched as he took his dirty fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet juices dry.

“How much more can you handle, baby?” Sunghoon askes between huffs. You glance down, the zipper of his pant’s barely holding in the tent beneath his pants. You only nod, lust hazing over your eyes. Sunghoon smiles, kissing your temple. “Good. We’re not even close to done, princess.”

In a few swift moments, Sunghoon unbuckled his pants. You watched as the fabric dropped down to his knees, his length revealing itself. Your eyes gawked at the sight, earning only a chuckle from Sunghoon as he brought your wrist up to his lips.

“Only you make me like this, y/n.” He kissed your skin.

An ache clouded your pussy. Suddenly, you felt empty, needy. You needed him. You mewl, gaining his attention in an instant. “I need your cock, Hoon.”

Rolling a condom around his dick, Sunghoon positions his tip at your entrance. You send a signal before Sunghoon presses into you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the heavens at the contact. His cock filled you up, grazing and sliding against your walls. Your skin slaps against each other with each slow thrust, the dirty noises filling up the room. Sunghoon throws your legs over his shoulders, giving him more access to your wet, needy pussy. Your hands gripped the sheets; anything to stay tethered to reality.

Sunghoon’s thrusts grow messy and rough. That familiar knot bundles up beneath your stomach as an idea pops into your mind.

“Can I go on top?” You huff breathlessly. Sunghoon gulps, covering his embarrassed face with the back of his palm. “Y-yeah. Please.”

You and Sunghoon clamour around to switch positions, reaching for random kisses back and forth. Your back faced him, your ass grinding against his abs, your shoulder blades rubbing against his chest. Slowly, you sink onto his dick, your folds enveloping his throbbing length. Sunghoon grunts closely behind you, concealing his sounds with kisses against your neck. His hands roam around you; digging into your hips, fondling your breasts. Though, it was the mischievous massaging of your clit that sent your brain to short circuit. You bounced on his cock faster, your and his moans intertwining in the night air.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of this, princess,” Sunghoon strained. “Of you bouncing on my cock—shit—just like that.”

His words send butterflies through your stomach. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as the two of you scream each other’s name. You weren’t far from your second climax of the night. One more bounce against his dick sent your juices overflowing. Sunghoon’s pools up at the tip of his condom. Slowly, you pull away from his length, plopping down beside him on the bed, huffing from exhaustion. Sunghoon lays down with you, cradling his frame in your arms.

“That was amazing.” You hum into his skin. Sunghoon traces small shapes along your bare back. “You were amazing, baby.”

Suddenly, the jingle of keys sound from across the hotel room.

Your managers. They were back from the party.

Uh oh.

“You realise how dangerous this is, right?” Your CEO pinches his nose bridge, leaning back into his office chair. “The press won’t react lightly to this.”

You and Sunghoon glanced at each other, shoulders pressed against one another as you stood before your CEO. Sweat beaded from your forehead. Though, you had every right to be nervous; you were currently asking for permission to go public with Park Sunghoon. The man you loved most.

“Yes—”

“Let me finish,” Your CEO raised his hand. “But, seeing as though you both are highly regarded and successful artists, and no longer trainees—I’ll allow it.”

The two of you lit up, immediately gazing at each other with smiles. You cling onto one another in a sweet embrace. As he only half-payed attention to your CEO’s orders of letting his company know, Sunghoon peppers kisses on your cheek.

Sunghoon pushes your hair behind your ear, smiling. “You’re finally mine, baby.”

#enhypen #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #my writing #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #one sided enemies to lovers #smut #kpop #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfiction

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honeylations · 2 months

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NAKAMURA KAZUHA x FEM!READER

PART TWO

Prompt: Still not being over your ex boyfriend (Choi Yeonjun), you thought it was a good idea to fake a relationship with Kazuha, aka a complete stranger, to make him jealous.

Warnings/Notes: small angst, fake dating to lovers, g!p Kazuha for spice, eventual smut for you horndogs

Link to part 1

A/N: RAHHHH FINALLY DID A PART TWO BECAUSE I WAS INDECISIVE OF HOW I WANTED THE STORY TO GO😭 this is like my 5th draft of Part Two💀

It’s been 2 weeks since you and Kazuha began the fake relationship and you were starting to feel a little too comfortable within the Japanese girl’s presence.

There were many things you were liking alot while being with her:

Seeing her smile

Her stupid jokes

Holding her hand

Having her arm around you

Walking you to your classes

The list can go on and on.

She went all out with your pretend dates and you found yourself staring at the photos you took together during your nights out. The warm feeling you had while with her was different than when you were with Yeonjun.

But it felt too good to be true.

Kazuha was only doing all this to help you. To protect you from Yeonjun. Right?

Wrong.

If you were a mess, Kazuha was an even bigger mess.

Every night she would pray that you’d open your eyes and realise that she was willing to do anything just for you to be officially her’s.

In Kazuha little mind, she believed you just needed protection from your ex. That you didn’t need Kazuha’s deep love. That this was only going to remain as a fantasy for the rest of her life.

But with the way your angelic laughed filled her ears, your soft hand perfectly fitting into her bigger ones, your beautiful smile…Kazuha was going to enjoy every moment while they lasted.

You were sitting next to each other as always at the lunch table with your friends, hearing more nonsense stories come out of Yunjin’s food filled mouth. You were leaning your head against Kazuha’s shoulder, playing with her fingers mindlessly as laughter continued to echo from your group.

It felt so right.

Like you had almost forgotten that it wasn’t real in the first place.

Then Yeonjun showed up again, seeming a little more timid than his usual approaches. Your table went silent upon his presence, clearly unhappy that he’s here yet again to possibly get your attention.

Kazuha’s arm instantly went around you, holding tight like you were going to disappear from her embrace.

“Hey calm down please everyone, I’m not here to try anything” Yeonjun quickly said when he saw all of your cold stares on him.

He continued. “I’m here to actually apologise. Especially towards you Y/n. I can see you’re really happy with Kazuha. She’s treating you in ways I wasn’t able to. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused recently, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me someday”

Without letting you respond, Yeonjun bowed and took his leave silently, leaving your group stunned.

“Well it was about damn time he said something. We can all live in peace now” Chaeryeong sighed dramatically, applauding everyone as if it was a team effort.

“Good job on faking the entire thing guys! Really got him fooled. Such a shame though, you two make a really good couple” Yuna hummed and tilted her head towards you and Kazuha.

“Y-Yeah…We do don’t we..” You heard Kazuha mutter while retreating her arm away from you.

Your eyes darted all over the floor out of panic. Everything was ending too soon! You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to lose all the warmth and happiness.

“Hey…” A voice broke you out of it, seeing that it was Sakura grabbing your hand. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good”

Sakura’s lips went into a thin line as she rubbed her thumb across your hand. “Don’t think about it Y/n. Just do it before it’s too late”

You looked at your friend with more worry, knowing that Sakura could read you easily like a book.

She knew you were in love with Kazuha but was too scared to do something about it.

As all your classes ended, Kazuha was kind enough to walk you back to your dorm, talking normally about your day and what you’ll be up to for the rest of the semester.

Then you both halted when you reached your door. Kazuha tucked her hands into her pockets while she looked at her feet like they were interesting.

“So…Is this it?” She asked with sadness.

You gulped away the choking feeling in your throat. “I-I guess…Thanks for everything Kazuha. You were a great pretend girlfriend”

Kazuha gave a half smile and nodded. “You were a perfect pretend girlfriend. Whoever gets you in the future is one lucky person”

“Same goes to you, Zu. Thanks for taking me home one last time”

“Of course. Anytime…”

The Japanese girl began slowly walking away, her feet feeling heavier with each step like she didn’t want to leave. She really didn’t. The thought of not having you by her side 24/7 was picking at her heart piece by piece.

Then the thought of you being in someone else’s arms snapped something in her head. She wanted you to be all her’s. She wanted to be the arms you fall into. She wanted to be the one you kiss and cuddle all the time.

She needed you to be her’s and her’s only.

Her feet stopped, catching your attention from the keys you were about to push into the lock. She made a U turn on the spot and sped walk back to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to her face that your lips were close to touching.

“Z-Zuha?” You gasped at the sudden movement.

Her eyes were filled with emotions you couldn’t decipher but her touch made your heart beat faster.

“Y/n. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me”

“What?”

“Tell me you don’t love me so I can have a peace of mind. Tell me you didn’t feel a thing throughout the two weeks we’ve been together” Kazuha said with determination, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the anxiety she was feeling.

“Kazuha…”

“I love you Y/n. We were two dates in and I felt pathetic that I fell in love with you so quickly, but to me it felt like I wasn’t allowed. I felt like you only saw this as an escape from Yeonjun. But please tell me Y/n, through the times we held hands, did you not feel some sort of chemistry between us?”

You stared up at her for a couple more seconds before tears escaped your eyes. Kazuha froze, thinking her words had affected you in the wrong way but she couldn’t rip out an apology before you leaned up and captured her lips as your arms hooked around her neck.

Kazuha’s eyes fluttered shut and her arms held you closely by the hips, relishing the warm feeling of your lips moving against hers.

She could bask in the warmth forever but you slowly pulled away, gaze flickering from her plump lips to her eyes.

“Kazuha I love you too. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. There’s no one else in this world I’d rather love than you”

The taller girl leaned her forehead against yours with eyes closed, sighing deeply with relief at your words. “Can you be mine Y/n? For real this time?”

“Yes Kazuha, I’d be honoured to be yours. For real this time” you giggled in response as pecked her lips.

“No more hiding?”

You snuggled your head into her chest, squishing your cheek against it that you could hear Kazuha’s heart beat. “No more hiding”

Just when you thought the day couldn’t get any better, you had led Kazuha into your dorm and to your bedroom where you were laying flat on your bed, legs spread, the space in between being occupied by your girlfriend’s mouth.

She was eating you out like she’s been starved. Her strong arms were tightly wrapped underneath your thighs, holding you in place while she switched between diving her tongue deeply into your entrance to sucking on your puffy clit.

“O-Oh Kazuha! Yes baby, right there!”

She hummed at your taste, not minding the thought of being in between your legs forever as long as your juices kept satisfying her thirst.

It felt so painfully good that you were too weak to push her head away. All you could do was pull at her hair, pushing her deeper into your wet cunt despite orgasm after orgasm.

And as good as it felt, you needed her deeper inside you. You needed her cock.

“Z-Zuha…Zuha please, want your cock baby” you sniffled, gasping for air once the girl finally pulled away to let you breathe.

“Aw but I was enjoying myself. Just want to eat your pussy forever” she gave a fuckboy type of smile with your juices literally coating her mouth and chin.

“Please baby. Want your cock and your cum” you begged, making Zuha wipe your tears away.

She leaned over and kissed your nose and the rest of your flushed face. “Okay, Princess”

You watched with awe as Kazuha removed her boxers, finally being fully naked as you, then spreading your legs wider so she could give you a view of her entering your needy cunt.

You already felt full with just the head in, clawing your sheets that they almost ripped but the feeling of familiar big hands on yours let you relax a little. You didn’t realise your eyes were shut tight until Kazuha called your name softly.

“Princess, are you okay?”

You sniffled and blinked away more tears. “H-Hurts. S-So big…”

Kazuha nuzzled her nose into your temple. “Shhh, I know baby, I’m sorry. Just a couple more seconds okay? If it still hurts, tell me and I’ll pull out”

You shook your head and ran your hands up her biceps to her back, rubbing up and down. “N-No. I can take it. Just please g-go slow”

“Of course, Princess. Anything you want”

“How are you being romantic while almost ripping me in half?” You huffed, feeling Kazuha chuckle against your cheek before kissing it.

“I’ll move now”

You shut your eyes again when your girlfriend slowly pulled out just so the tip was inside before going back in at the same pace.

You’ve had 6 inches inside you before and that hurt like a bitch. But with Kazuha, 8 inches could quite literally kill you if she wasn’t gentle.

As she kept moving, you found yourself moaning louder, wanting more, craving more. You dug your acrylics into her back, possibly drawing blood.

Kazuha’s breath was getting heavier, feeling her pant against your neck like a desperate puppy. “Princess, I love the way you feel around my cock. So tight and perfect”

“More..” you whispered, giving Kazuha’s back some rest so you could cup her jaw and pull her into a needy kiss.

Kazuha pushed her tongue inside, licking you all up and even sucking on it, earning louder moans and whines from you.

“More hm? Does it feel that good, my Princess?” She said in Japanese, causing your pussy to clench tighter.

Thanks to your online Japanese classes, you were actually able to understand your girlfriend’s words. It was so hot. Her voice sounded deeper and husky, how could you NOT get soaked?

Your moans were enough of an answer for the taller girl. With one hand on your waist and the other on the headboard, she let her animal brain go loose, fucking you crazy like she dreamt of.

The slapping noises bounced off the walls (and possibly the entire dorm) as you chanted your girlfriend’s name like a ritual. She was biting and licking at your neck, stamping as much hickies as she could, not willing to miss a spot so the world would know who you finally belonged to.

“Fuck baby. You’re all mine to love…to fuck…to kiss…All mine” she growled deeply.

“Oh fuck, Zuha I’m cumming! Don’t stop baby please please please!”

“Me too Princess. Let me cum inside”

Feeling too fucked out, you nodded your head as your eyes rolled back to your head, letting the intense orgasm hit you like a goddam truck.

“Fuck…oh fuck—ah Y/n baby!” Kazuha grunted loudly and gasped into your shoulder as she continued pounding into you.

Her pace eventually slowed down to a stop when she emptied every drop of her cum inside your cunt, groaning profanities, then sweet nothings into your sweaty temple.

After a split second, Kazuha rolled you both over so you laid on top of her, not caring that her semi hard cock was still deep inside you. You felt your mixed cum sliding out of your pussy and down Kazuha’s balls, possibly dripping onto your bedsheets.

You felt your girlfriend rub circles along your back, letting you catch your breath. “You okay?”

“More than okay” you chuckled, still panting.

“Just realised we did that raw. I’m sorry”

You lifted your head up and planted lazy kisses across your girlfriend’s face. “Don’t be. I love it raw”

“As much as I love the thought of getting you pregnant, we have yet to graduate” Kazuha pouted, letting you kiss it away.

“I know, don’t worry. I’m on the pill anyways”

“Oh ok good” Kazuha sighed with content.

She thought she could sleep and have a cute lovey dovey moment with you but you abruptly sat up and placed your hands on her shoulders, giving her a mischievous smirk.

“After all that fake dating, you think one round is enough?”

“Eh?”

“Oh don’t worry, baby. Just lay there and I’ll do all the work. You know, as a thank you for saving me from all those times” you winked and slowly lifted yourself up before sinking back down.

Kazuha instantly got hard, holding onto your waist for dear life.

“Goddamn it Princess. I’ll make sure you pass out from how good this cock is”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You tilted your head, moaning in between as her length reached your womb.

You were definitely going to be missing your early morning lectures tomorrow.

#gxg #wlw #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim smut #nakamura kazuha x fem reader #nakamura kazuha x reader #nakamura kazuha smut #nakamura kazuha

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starryknight-tarot · 10 months

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𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls! ✨ Today we will be looking into what your first date with your future spouse will be like. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1

Cards: Page of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles rx, King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, Strength, Death rx, Knight of Cups Back of the deck: The Lovers

I got A LOT of pentacles for this pile so your fs could be loaded or you or your fs could be an Earth sign so Taurus, Virgo, or Capricorn. If not, you could have a lot of dominant Earth signs in your chart. I am specifically seeing Venus in Virgo. Your fs is gonna want to spoil you during the date. They could take you somewhere really fancy. I am getting very strongly that they wanna impress you. They may insist on paying for everything so you can enjoy yourself. I am getting that they are going to take you to a crowded place. I am seeing an amusement park or arcade. I don't feel like this will be a random place for them, they may go there often. Your person will plan the whole thing and really try to make it perfect and romantic. They wanna win games and get you a big prize. I see them winning a big teddy bear and you hugging it while blushing. They will lead the way and show you a bunch of really cute things that probably teach you a lot about them. For some of you, you will go to a festival and there will be a lot of colorful bright lights and yummy food stands that you guys will enjoy with them. I am getting this person could live or have lived close to you. All smiles and laughs with this pile. Your fs really wants to impress you, they may have had a crush on you before you even knew and really want to make sure everything is perfect. I am getting such a cute vibe for this date it's all so positive for this pile. They may tell you before the date that they want you to relax as much possible with them and to be yourself. This may be because some of you are kind of introverts and maybe this kind of stuff isn't your scene, but they want to show you how fun these kinds of things can be. I feel like if you get overwhelmed at all they will be SUPER supportive and do anything to make sure you feel better. I am getting for some of you, you will know that they are the one from this date or you will know you wanna marry them. I feel like you guys may even end the date with a kiss or a big hug that just feels so right.

Advice Cards:

Your acts of love, kindness, and unlimited forgiveness bestow grace upon you Give up resistance in your current situation Remember that in universal law, all is well and fair A powerful dream will guide you Your spirit wings are unfolding, It is time to take flight! Reflect on one of your blessings

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2

Cards: Judgement, The Star, Two of Cups, Three of Swords, Three of Pentacles rx, The Lovers rx, Page of Pentacles, Four of Wands rx, Two of Swords rx Back of the deck: King of Wands

I am getting that you guys won't even realize that this was your first date until like years later. A very unintentional date. I am seeing some of you drinking a little too much or something, you could be at a bar or just out with friends. If you don't drink, you would just be retreating to your comfort place, some of you that may be a cafe. I am getting that around this time, you are gonna be down in the dumps, I am hearing for some of you specifically love is making you feel sad. Some of you may feel like you have no chance in love or some of you may have just been dumped. I am getting that you will be crying, a rare moment of vulnerability and your fs would approach you. I feel like some of you are gonna feel scared by their presence at first but you will very quickly see they are just trying to see what's wrong and help you out. Your fs is gonna have a strong urge to take care of you and make sure you are ok and safe. They really want to cheer you up, I am hearing they don't like to see you cry. I am suddenly seeing someone with a motorcycle so you or them could have one but I feel like it's more likely them. I feel like your fs will take you from lying around crying and take you somewhere fun (please don't let strangers take you to random places yall unless you completely trust them). I am hearing, I am spending this magical night with you. I feel like you will spend all night with your fs just watching stars and talking about your lives. Things will just feel right, like everything is how it's supposed to be. I am feeling this date will be mostly conversation, just expressing yourself and pouring your feelings out to them and return the conversation almost perfectly. I am hearing some of you will feel like complete opposites but still match each other's energy. I am getting that they just want to listen to you or that they could listen to you talk all day. They will really raise your mood and you will just feel so comfortable with them. They will make sure you get home safely and you guys won't be able to stop think about each other.

Advice Cards:

No better time to exists than right now Make a commitment and follow through It is important to understand and value your own energy Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure Pay attention to the issue that time plays in your life right now Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Ten of Swords rx, Temperance, Ace of Wands rx, The Magician, The World, The Wheel of Fortune, Ten of Cups, Knight of Swords Back of the deck: Ace of Cups

I keep hearing that this person is your classmates or you could have known them for a long time. Childhood friend vibes. I am getting that you guys could have had a crush on each other for a while now and like everyone knows but you have just never talked about it. I feel like this date will come about very suddenly like one day yall are just chilling and one of you guys is just like, "dude let's go on a date" or maybe not that direct like "let's just go somewhere." and it becomes a date. I feel like you are gonna be the one to ask. VERY random message but I feel like some of you may be Hispanic or Latino. Obviously not for everyone lol. The moment will just feel right and you guys will go hang out and you will just go everywhere. You guys will go get snacks and drinks like lemonade or popsicles. I am getting summer vibes from this date, you could go to the beach. I feel like you guys will just connect like you never have before, it will feel different then other times you have been with each other. I really feel like your conversations with each other will flow more naturally and you guys will be more flirty with each other. I feel like you will be doing a lot of walking, not knowing where you are going or what you are doing but you know you have each other and that feels really comfortable. I am seeing you might be messing around at a playground. During the day you guys will be very active, I see people playing volleyball on the beach and swimming in the water, splashing each other. You guys may also like to tease and playfully bicker with each other. But during the night time it starts to get a more intimate kind of comfortable where you just lay down holding hands on the sand as it surrounds both of you, feeling comfortable in each other's presence and just talking about everything under the sun. I feel like you will have really deep conversations and talk about your future together. I feel like you guys might become an official couple on the first date and also kiss for the first time. I feel like this kiss will just feel so right. Like fireworks are going off for both of you. I am hearing you both have a very destined relationship, your fs could be your soulmate Pile 3.

Advice Cards:

Your heart is a center of intuitive intelligence. Listen to it! You can manifest your heart's desire Make a commitment and follow through Be bold. It's time to leap forward! You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are Expect good things to come to you

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Page of Cups rx, Eight of Swords, Death, Three of Swords rx, Knight of Wands, Ten of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, Page of Wands Back of the deck: Three of Wands

I feel like a lot of you have experienced heartbreak, you may have been in an on and off relationship with someone. I am hearing they could have been a karmic. It was unhealthy for you but I am getting you will cut them off for good. Once you are no longer trapped by this manipulative person is when your fs will make a move. I feel like you may need time to yourself after this relationship (I am hearing spirit really encourages some time to yourself, some of you need to learn to love yourself before putting yourself out there again). But I feel like your fs is someone you already knew, I am hearing specifically a coworker. I am getting your fs has had a crush on you for a while now, but was too afraid to make a move. Your fs is really shy but they want to be the one to ask you out. This may be around winter time for you Pile 4. I am getting that you may have barely noticed your fs before they asked you out. When you do go out, they will take you out for dinner somewhere nice. I feel like they will be so nervous and afraid to make a bad impression. I am getting when the date starts they may compliment you a lot and it is all super fluffy and cute cause they are just in awe in your presence. The date may start a little awkward and silly but I do feel like you guys will warm up and have really comfortable conversation. I think you guys will realize you have a lot in common and they will make you laugh a lot. I am hearing you may get stares because you guys are laughing so hard. Your fs will feel very different then anyone you have ever been with. I feel like you both will get really flustered and I am hearing it will just feel blissful. I don't feel like you will immediately realize you are falling in love with them but I do think you will think about your fs a lot after this and you will start spending a lot more time together after this date. You can see the start of something beautiful.

Advice Cards:

You are birthing a new self You are healing at a cellular level Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded! Practice the pause Make a commitment and follow through

Channeled Songs:

(I really felt called to add a third channeled song for this pile so congrats lol)

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

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wondernus · 1 year

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˗ˋˏ a winter interlude ˎˊ˗

synopsis: maybe this is meant to be an interlude – an unforeseen passing moment in each other’s timelines. but with the stroke of a conductor’s baton, the symphony lands on the fermata hovering above the note. do we allow this interlude to become something longer than a short period in our lives, or do we end it after all of it is over?

pairing: wonwoo x coworker!reader

genre: romance, drama, light angst

tags: children's book illustrator wonwoo, publisher reader, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, food/drinks, work husband jeonghan cameo, small town dynamics, snowed in, scene where reader almost gets physically injured

wc: 11.3k

message from nu: waaaa first fic of the year. special special special thank you to my beloved madi (@heartkyeom) for being my beta reader well after midnight. I also wanna thank mars (@onlymingyus) for being mars c: I remember a while ago I answered an ask with a possible wonwoo work husband spinoff. this is it. this is wonwoo's work husband spinoff. this can be read as a standalone fic. happy winter and happy new year to all of you. I hope you all enjoy this svthub snowventeen collab fic - nu ♡

wondernus's masterlist / snowventeen collab 18+

one

“Don’t forget to wear you layers because it’s about to be chillier as the week passes by. For those trekking into the mountains, make sure you look out for weather updates from the signal tower and stay indoors because a large snowstorm is about to paint the mountains white. Stay safe, and have a great day. Now, onto Yoon Jeonghan with the traffic.”

“‘Trekking?’ What are you? A protein bar wrapper? Anyway, thank you Joshu-"

Never really understanding why other people say they often find themselves turning down the music while driving to see better, you find yourself doing the same – driving in silence as if the silence could create such a frictionless surface that would shoot and propel your car to your destination. A couple of hours late to your annual winter work retreat, a clear understatement defined by the speed at which you are driving, what was supposed to be a carpool event turned into you sitting in a pool of cars while stuck in traffic.

The Sun shines lightly, a gentle kiss against your skin, but not enough to hug everything it touches in warmth. With the heater on high, you sit in your front seat sweating and dreading the moment when you have to get out of your car, thighs peeling off the leather seats and leaving a pool of sweat where you were sitting. Perhaps it is not the Sun and the heater’s heat that causes you to sweat, but a psychological factor – an amalgamation of stress and anxiety that stemmed from the moment you realized you were late.

No longer can you allow yourself to forgive him that easily, yet you really did not want t blame him for giving you incorrect meeting minutes. But when the retreat itinerary clearly stated to meet in the morning at seven in front of the publishing house, you should have known better than to wholly trust your ditzy new intern to attend your office meeting while you traveled out of town to hunt down your author for her overdue speculative fiction novel draft. Instead of writing the correct time to meet, he incorrectly noted the arrival time.

This unprecedented-precedented blip is the catalyst for a series of chain reactions that would metaphorically send you pummeling down the steep side of a mountain in a snowy avalanche that you could have avoided. But you do not know it, nor do you know how it, whatever “it” is, ends.

Dark circles under your eyes and a forgotten paper-thin pimple patch a jolt over a speedbump away from falling off your oily skin, you keep telling yourself that everything will be okay once you get to the camping grounds. Hopefully, this sort of denial could make up for the fact that you spent all of last night kicking your feet under your covers while binge-watching the reality show that your favorite boy group filmed rather than packing for your trip. But there is only so much your heater turned on high can do for someone wearing an old flimsy university tee with a couple of cat teeth-made holes who forgot to put their contacts in last night. You are better off skipping the winter retreat, but you are already nearing the mountains. There is no turning back – especially on winding roads.

And the embarrassment. This feeling of creeping anxiety seemingly washed away the moment it stepped foot into your head even though you are utterly unprepared and inappropriate for being late to the paid work retreat. Because this sudden realization hits you mid-drive: the only person who you would be embarrassed to meet in your current situation is excused for the retreat. Reasons unknown. And not that you would let any man define you, but at your core, you are simply a person with an embarrassingly big fat crush on your co-worker (and seemingly everybody else you work with). This crush is so bad that if HR made every team create their own set of photocards, you would put his in a protective cover with tiny holographic hearts, and then in a sturdy toploader decorated with overpriced stickers. One glance at him would put you in a trance, daydreaming about what it would be like to wake up in his arms on a sunny day with birds chirping outside your window, and him with a soft smile on his face.

Except for one thing – he hates your guts, so you decided to hate his too.

They always say “try, try again,” but how many tries would it take before the attempts turn Sisyphean? Sure, Hades enchanted Sisyphus’s boulder so that it would roll away before Sisyphus reached the top, but what about you? Car tires struggling against the icy roads, you drive carefully so your car does not turn into a giant hockey puck or a curling stone on (what is essentially) a giant ice rink. But being careful does not help the fact that you are unprepared. And being unprepared means your car has absolutely no way for you to drive over any sized slopes, no matter how many times you try.

You only realize any further attempt of going over the slope or taking any other route is fruitless when your tires spin in place after digging themselves well enough into the road. And you slump against your steering wheel like an exasperated character in a movie – pounding your head against 12 o’clock a few times for good measure. So much for a fifteen-minute-saving de-tour through a small town you have never seen before. And so much for you trying to drive over a slope you could easily walk over. Trying sucks.

Still, the only thing that keeps you from abandoning your hand-me-down car to trek forty-five minutes to the campsite is the fact that it is freezing outside, and your cellphone Wi-Fi gets especially spotty when you are in areas of high altitudes. With one final sigh, you push yourself away from your steering wheel to sit upright, leaning the back of your head against your headrest. There is not much to do except to put your car in neutral and try to push your car out of the little hole it dug itself in.

The thing is, the texture of real snow is a lot different from the snow that giant portable snow machines shoot out of their gigantic cylindrical nozzles to cover the courtyard in front of the city hall whenever the local city has its annual winter festival. Real snow is also incomparable to the “snow” a child creates along the perimeter of an ice skating rink, hands holding onto the rails for support while they repeatedly scrape the inside of one of their blades towards the inside of their other shoe, creating soft ribbons of shaved ice before the navy blue Zamboni can create a clean slate before private lessons start.

Real snow is relentless toward anybody who does not come prepared to interact with it. So, no matter how much you try to dig and twist your sneaker sole into the snow, that tactile grip that you wish to create that supports your feet while you are pushing against the back of your car can seldom be created. You slump against your car’s bumper in defeat. The Sun still shining on your skin, a little bit stronger now, leaves you with the same warmth you felt against your skin, a bit tingly and upsetting, when you knew your skin would still burn no matter how nice the cordiality of the Sun felt on that one Spring day in the past.

Plus, there is a little more time to observe your surroundings when you have given up completely.

In the grassy median strip that denotes the entrance into the small town is a wooden welcome sign with the name in loopy golden lettering against a beautiful pine green: “Welcome to Interlude.” A few feet ahead of you, the mountainous road marries smooth concrete, and the sidewalks pave in a festival town-esque brick lining. And you conclude you must be on the outskirts of the town. Leftover snow fills the grooves between each brick and covers the dark-colored awnings in front of each shop along the town strip. Where flashy LED shop signs and brightly colored bulbs decorate sidewalk trees drawing visitors in from around the world, is surprisingly a lack of people. And you frown while thinking about how you would be able to push your car to the side of the road if another vehicle wants to enter the town.

Not a few moments later, a navy blue truck slowly climbs up the road, and you feel the littlest bit of hope surge into your body. Forcing yourself to stand up, you move out of the way and wave at the incoming car. But as your day could not have gotten any more unfortunate, your car starts rolling backwards towards the pickup truck. And you cannot help but see your entire life flash in front of you – a person dressed too lightly for the snow and the used car passing by like a celebrity on a parade float, all in a moment.

What is scarier than the fact that your car is now bumper-less and the pickup truck remains unscathed is the man who hops out of his truck. Looking like a snow-stage boss from a video game, the man who is large and menacingly looking enough to make his shiny dark green car look like a minivan next to him stalks over to you with his finger pointed directly at your face. The only thing missing from the scene is the army of ice ogres that are supposed to follow closely behind him.

However, the only thing you can register is the fact that he is yelling at you – face glowing bright red and spit flying out of his mouth. Your body is frozen in fear. There is a lack of capacity for you to be able to stand up for yourself while you are shocked and unable to recognize your surroundings while terrible words spill out of the man's mouth. And you cannot do anything except take in his expletives while teardrops well up, ready to spill out of your tear ducts.

But they do not. A figure puts himself between the man and you, and your view is too obstructed to see the other side.

“I called the insurance company. Give me your information and I’ll handle it,” the mysterious person says.

“And who are you?” You hear from the other side.

“I’m their husband.” He fishes for his wallet in his back pocket and takes out a business card, handing it to the man between two fingers. “Call me. Email me. Your choice. I’ll get it sorted. Sorry about the whole thing, I didn’t have time to drive my partner. Bad husband right?... So, I heard you’re the new fishing shop owner? I’ll drop by sometime.” He tries to switch subjects to lessen the tension while slipping his wallet back into his pocket.

The thing is, it works. The presence of the man who uses his body to shield you calms the angry pickup truck driver almost exponentially. And the man who yelled at you seemed to forget he was yelling at you just because he realized your marital status. The man calms down, and even falters in his speech.

“Ahh…I’m not a fishing shop owner. I guess it’s fine now that you’re here, but you know men. There aren’t bad husbands, only ba-”

“I’ll be at Town Hall if you need more information from me.” The man who calls himself your husband purposely and curtly cuts the other man off, knowing very well that he would be even more upset if he heard the man finish his sentence.

The man does not turn back to address you until he is done taking photos of both cars and waving the other man goodbye. And your piece of junk car stays in the same spot, bumper-less and bruised, while the pickup truck, clearly without any injury, smoothly makes its way into Interlude, disappearing from your sight.

“You’re just going to dumbly let that man say those things to you? About you? Do you have no respect for yourself?” He lectures you, his deep voice muffled by the black wool scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth.

You see him clearly this time, how his black locks fall in front of his face in neat curtain bangs, set in a defined “C” shape. The oversized fleece-lined collar jacket falls to the middle of his thighs, leaving little room for his cream-colored sweater to peep into view. And his stance, focusing his weight on his right heel while his left foot slightly protrudes forward, allows him to tap his foot against the snow while he waits for you to answer him.

But what is shocking to you is not the code-switching he uses when speaking to the driver versus when speaking to you. What is shocking, you realize, are the thin silver-framed glasses that sit on the bridge of the man’s nose and the familiar deep woody scent that clings onto him, touched with a hint of peach.

It couldn’t be.

A cold chill leaves your tongue dry and squeezes your stomach.

“Are you dumb? Did you not hear about the snowstorm coming?” He asks you, a voice without concern, all while pulling out his phone from one of his pockets.

He tugs his manicured thumbs out of his gloves to wake his phone and proceeds to reveal his face from under his scarf to unlock his phone. After a few loud keyboard taps, you hear your phone’s notification sound from your car. But all you can do is stare back at the man, stomach gurgling and queasy.

“Yn,” your co-worker sighs, clearly annoyed by your lack of response. “Why are you here?”

two

A backpack-wearing piglet who happily crosses the street. A fashionably dressed lumpy toad who rows across the pond in a wooden paddle boat. A shrew who picnics with a chipmunk in a grassy city park. Tiny children who sit between each of a stegosaurus’s scutes. An angry and scruffy-looking Siamese cat who wears a cone too big for it to see. The backside of each illustration states:

Jeon Wonwoo ILLUSTRATOR Same Dream Publishing House Work Email | Work Number | Personal Website

Nicely squared recycled textured card stock printed with soy ink, Jeon Wonwoo’s business cards can very well double as collector cards. And the owner of these cards himself, in your eyes, is the most beautiful man you have ever laid your eyes on. No fantasy writer, no Renaissance artist could ever truly depict how you see this man. Yet it makes you feel terrible, so entirely rotten on the inside, knowing that he would rather crawl up several flights of stairs made of tiny plastic building blocks than take a fifteen-second elevator ride with you.

If you could pinpoint the exact day Jeon Wonwoo started hating you, it would be the Monday after coming back from a previous work trip to the vacation home of a poet the two of you were assigned. The two of you were amicable with each other, even more so – close friends. A power couple in the children’s books and short stories field – a force to be reckoned with. And the hotel rooms adjacent to each other where the two of you decided to sit on opposite sides of your shared door and talk to each other with both your backs against the door. You remember the sound of his hair brushing against the wood and his soft chuckle when you accidentally bump your head against the door. The goodbye after the trip lingered for a little too long while the first hello back never came. And you can only watch from the back of the crowd during meet and greets and panels, sometimes only catching the tip of his tiny flyaway from far away.

It would hurt your feelings a lot less if he turned away whenever you walked near him, but he chooses to frown instead. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make you like him any less. But you do not know what you are holding onto (or if there is anything to hold onto at this point).

Even now, there is a blatant emotional and physical distance between the two of you. He briskly walks at least a meter in front of you, never turning his head back to see if he left you behind or if you were following closely behind.

The thick uncomfortable shoulder strap keeps slipping from your shoulder, unable to find any traction against the smooth nylon of the puffer you put on earlier. And it is just a walk, a measly ten-minute walk to the police station where you can report the accident, but it is hard to walk while looking ahead when you are so close to crying. No matter how much you try to adjust your shoulder strap so it doesn’t stop falling, it finds a way to slip from your sore shoulder or frozen grip. Overwhelming emotions usurp any will to continue onwards and leave you feeling so annoyed, so dejected, and so frustrated with everything that happened today. And when your bag’s strap slips again, you let it slip from your shoulder, sending your entire duffle bag crumpling against the wet and icy brick pavement.

And so you crumple with it, sinking to your knees and wallowing in your unhappiness.

The winter boots that clop in front of you never stop. Jeon Wonwoo would never stop for you, never walk backwards to pick up your heavy duffle and offer you a hand. So it wracks your head trying to understand why he would help you out in the first place, leaving you in the snow once everything was settled, and threatening an IOU coupon for the future. Why he would be in this town in the first place.

The shop window lights of the tiny electronics store to the side of you flicker on. On display and pressed flat against the glass are a bunch of old television sets stacked on top of each other, creating a large screen if not separated by the thick plastic television frames. Golden tempera paint in a modern Serif font exhibits the store’s logo across the glass: “Stay For A While,” in a wide downward pointing arc.

Every single television screen livestreams the local news. According to the subtitles, a giant snowstorm is about to hit the local area. Residents are advised to seek shelter and stay home. The sunny weather is only a farce.

But you don’t notice the news. To you, the only thing in front of you is a lachrymose shadow of a blob trapped in a foreign town with nowhere to go. And your heart follows closely behind the man as if dragged by him on a leash – blindly bouncing, cobbling, and getting scratched by the various pebbles and dirt on the pavement.

The man never looks behind to check on the organ. He doesn’t even know it’s there.

“What do you mean you’re cat sitting? Jeonghan, you never volunteer to do things willingly…Oh, for the friends who are high school teachers? Then road trip with their cat and save your cousin who is stranded in the mountains.” You adjust your grip on your phone while mindlessly browsing through the several knickknacks for sale in the souvenir shop in the town’s only lodge.

Passing the wall of graphic tees and sweaters and passing through a shelf of souvenir mugs, you stop at a shelf of tiny woodcarvings. Your eye lands on a figurine of a whittled cat, hand-painted orange with a white belly. On the other end of your phone call, your cousin complains about the weather, but you don’t listen – clearly too entranced by the tiny cat.

“Of course I listened to the radio this morning,” you mutter while running the tip of your pointer finger against the cat’s ear, feeling the smooth sanded wood under your touch. “Okay, you got me. It was for background noise. Look, I’m not asking you to pick me up today. I somehow ended up booking a room after finding out cab services are down today. But if you’re not going to pick me up then I’m going to hang up and solve this myself. But if you don’t hear from me in three days, then call a search party. Okay?”

Except he hangs up before you can say goodbye, grumbling about how you never listen to him. Still, you’re unbothered by his action. The tiny cat, now in the palm of your hand, looks so content with life, unbothered by what goes on around it. Your mind wonders about its artist, how long they must have spent carving the cat from a single block of wood, the hours it must have taken to create something so tiny yet so fulfilling to own. And you wonder about the artist’s emotions, if they ever felt sadness after parting with their cat. If the cat was the artist’s friend, even for the brief moment, that juncture, in their individual timelines.

It would be best if you left the cat on the shelf, you think. Just in case the artist ever changes their mind about selling the cat. And the cat looks happier sitting on the shelf with its other animal friends, happier than what its painted lazy smile suggests.

And for the first time today, you feel a tiny bit of happiness – a halcyon moment surrounded by forest-themed trinkets and flashing keychains with generic names and soft 2010s pop music playing from the store speakers. That is until you see a familiar figure being escorted to the lobby of the lodge. Curiosity causes you to leave your spot in the souvenir store, edging closer to the creation of a new scene.

“I have a room.” You hear him try to reason with the security guard. “It’s not called loitering if I am a guest.”

You can’t hear the security guard, but it seems like Wonwoo’s bluntness is not a strong enough source of logos for the guard. And the guard stands in front of the illustrator, fully unconvinced that the man wearing a suit and holding his work briefcase would be any other out-of-town guest. And one look of pure panic on Jeon Wonwoo’s stupidly handsome-looking face sends you on autopilot, making your way to his side for no good reason.

“Babe.” You lie through your forced smile while looping your arm around his right arm. “Where were you?”

His arm jerks in the tiniest bit before it relaxes as if he hesitated for a moment before making his decision. Of course, another explanation could simply be because he experienced a negative bodily reaction to your mere presence. Flabbergasted, he would mutter. The nadir of today’s excitement. And you would hate him even more for using vocabulary without incorporating any malapropisms. He is as pretentious as the outfit he wears.

“Baby,” he grits through his teeth. “This gentleman seems to think I’m stalking the halls like some animal out to hunt its prey.”

“Sorry, Sir.” You pout at the security guard, hoping your natural pathos could appeal to the man. “My husband has a tendency to walk around whenever he’s bored. It’s been a while since we went on vacation, and he clearly has too many thoughts in his head. You see his outfit? It’s a bad habit.”

The security guard strokes his chin and nods, eying Wonwoo’s ineffable outfit. He wonders why the man in front of him would pack a business suit for a vacation in the mountains, but he doesn’t want to be the one too quick to judge. Rather, he agrees with the fact that the suit actually fits the man very well. If the man wasn’t stalking the hallways just a few moments ago, he would’ve asked him about which tailor he sees. “If he’s so bored, why don’t the two of you join couples night tonight? Winners get a free bedroom upgrade. And between you and me, I heard there’s a famous author who’s staying with us,” he whispers the last portion, a quick cheeky wink.

You don’t realize that you are still grabbing onto his arm until you dragged him into your room. And he shrugs you off, taking the extra step to smooth out his suit fabric while looking through your vanity mirror before turning to you.

“You have the grip of a snapping turtle,” he scoffs while looking around your room.

It is a standard room with a single queen-sized bed at the center of the room. If it were not for the carpeted floors, the entire room would look like a wooden box from its Western Red Cedar planks that make up the four walls to the wooden paneling that covers the ceiling, giant circular wooden beams that keep the ceiling steady by design. The rooms in this lodge are a termite’s dream feast and an art deco enthusiast’s nightmare. Even the bedframe is made of logs, cylindrical in every piece, and the bedsheets are of deep burgundy red bordered with silhouettes of black bears as if it came straight from the video game your cousin was so obsessed with a few Summers ago.

What catches his eye is not the fact that your duffle bag is thrown across your bed, nor the fact that the lamps in your rooms may as well be oil lamps. Rather, he stares at the door to the right of your mounted television, the divider between your room and your neighbor’s. And you can’t help but wonder what is going on in that head of his.

“You are insufferable, you know that?”

“How long did it take for you to think of that comeback?” His attention is drawn away from the door and aimed toward you. “Just because I compared you to a turtle didn’t mean you had to act like one.”

Your jaw drops and becomes your turn to scoff at him, loudly. You cannot believe what you are hearing, and your breathing becomes shallower as you glare at him. “Are you kidding me? Me helping you literally saved you from being pathetically kicked out by the security guard. You should be happy I didn’t record it and post it online.”

“Like you would have enough followers for it to go viral,” he sneers while taking a step toward you. “And I never asked you for help.”

“Loitering in the hallways? Wearing a business suit when you’re supposed to be at the retreat?” Now there is almost no space between the two of you. And you reach over to his chest, grabbing the plastic nametag that dangles from his neck, and holding it up to his face. The item feels as cold as the person who wears it. “Wearing your work badge? Fine, I’ll admit I have no idea why you’re here. But if you thought that walking around and waiting for some author to come out of their room and have some preplanned accidental meet cute could work, then you’re so wrong. And I’m not going to let you defame our company just because you have no social skills whatsoever.” You let go of the item you’re holding, letting it drop against his chest.

“Okay, I’ll be the bigger man and admit that I was waiting for the author my team wants to work with to show up. But talking about defaming the company? You want me to care about what you say when all of that was coming from someone who would rather let some random man verbally degrade their worth than to stand up for themselves? You’re all bite and no tongue. Just like a snapping turtle,” he says, his face entirely without emotion.

“SNAPPING TURTLES HAVE TONGUES. DUMBASS,” you snap at him.

“That’s exactly what a snapping turtle would say,” he challenges you.

The thing is, Jeon Wonwoo likes to keep things short even though he is not as quick-tempered as you are. He prefers to relay everything he wants to say at once, saving anybody from asking for clarification. Yet, you can feel that Wonwoo only seeks to maim you with his words. Even at your most imperturbable composure with your intern, you cannot stand being alone in a room with Wonwoo once he starts opening his mouth to speak. And stupidly and repeatedly you let his elementary quips affect you like rubbing salt on an open wound. The laceration in your heart.

“You’re so rude Jeon Wonwoo. No wonder I hate you more and more every single day. You’re the single-most worst person in the entire world, and I hate how I once considered us friends.”

He looks like he has something to say to you but mentally drops the notion. Instead, he sighs and makes his way to the door beside your television, unlocking the knob and opening the door. He doesn’t make some offhanded comment about being your neighbor and only quietly closes the door behind him, making sure it’s locked with a tiny click.

three

It is a tiny office breakroom, the kind with a beige refrigerator whose motor is a little too loud, a low-watt microwave, and light green walls decorated with random pen marks from the lodge workers signing up for holiday potlucks. The late afternoon sunlight shines in an ethereal orange glow through the window, casting what could be the day’s last warm ray across the round wooden table in the middle of the room. Central heating runs throughout the building, and the lodge manager sits in the hot seat, his hands folded in front of him while he stares at you and your “husband.”

“Darling?” A nice elderly receptionist on break holds up a bag of mini marshmallows, the tri-colored kinds you can only find in baking stores, and points to it with her manicured finger. “Marshmallow?” she asks you from her place near the kitchen cabinets.

“No thank you,” you reply, your hands wrapped around a warm disposable cup filled with generic brand instant hot chocolate. Gratis, courtesy of the elderly receptionist before the manager arrived to talk to the two of you.

You bring the sugary drink to your lips, blowing softly and watching the steam disappear into the air. The drink itself, velvet chocolate that coats your tongue, is a warm invitation to this little town in the middle of nowhere. However, you cannot help but feel the only thing – or person – that unwelcomes you is the man who tries to angle his body away from you and the manager if the two of you ever cause trouble for your neighbors. Again.

“Look, we’re not going to kick you out. It would be inhumane to kick someone out during a snowstorm. And also we’re all kinda snowed in…actually, we’re super snowed in so nobody is coming in or out at this point. Funny how it was sunny earlier, right? Anyway, word has it that the two of you are married. So why don’t you two take some time to work things out, yeah? I’m no relationship counselor, but this is a small lodge in a small town so word gets out fast. So, seeing how far the two of you are sitting apart from each other, maybe channel that pent up anger into some competitive spirit during couple’s night because we can’t have you two being loud and arguing elsewhere. And I hate to be the bad guy here, but no more calls from your neighbors complaining about the two of you arguing or else we will contact authorities. Alright? Just keep it down and work it out, would ya?”

The manager’s lengthy spiel is immediately followed by silence, although not awkward, but one that provokes thought. And when you sense Wonwoo, being the smartass he is, open his mouth to counter his marriage status, and you immediately kick him in the shin with the heel of your tennis shoe. And he folds like his latest pop-up book, glaring at you while trying not to wheeze in pain. A fake smile and a solemn pledge to not bother the other patrons for the rest of the night are enough for the two of you to be excused from the conversation with the manager.

But not from each other.

How you ended up blindfolded and dizzy with a bat in your hands while Wonwoo angrily yells at you from the sidelines is beyond you. For the time being is what the two of you agreed with, albeit this one is far from Ruth Ozeki’s version. It’s a small promise to try to prove the two of you are more than amicable: attend a few games and activities together with the other couples, attempt to act like a married couple, and dip after an hour.

After twelve elephant spins with your forehead against the baseball bat, you and the other blindfolded contestants try to cross to the other side of the banquet hall in order to smash one of the many squashes on the large blue-colored plastic tarp laid across the floor. And Wonwoo, along with the other separated pairs, barks into the open air in the direction he wants you to move.

The funny thing is, you would expect to hear him call your actual name out of all of the pet names being thrown around, but Wonwoo cannot yell for the life of him, so much to shout your name in public. So even though you hear a bunch of people getting confused with the various forms of “honey” and “baby” being called out, you struggle to find his voice amidst the cacophony of shouts. Once the physical dizziness from spinning around evaporated, you feel a new kind of dizziness from being agitated as an aftereffect of trying to find Wonwoo’s voice in the middle of the crowd. By the time you decide on giving up, the shrill sound of a whistle signaling the end of the game fills the air. Shrugging the blindfold off your face, you look around to see the aftermath. While the other pairs are on the other side of the room surrounded by broken pieces of squash, there is only one man standing in front of you alone and separated from the others.

Your breathing hitches when you realize he’s walking towards you – long, even strides like the romantic lead in a movie. By the time he places himself in front of you, your baseball bat is in his hand while your cheek is in his other.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?” he whispers while looking into your eye.

Except you can’t help but train your eyes elsewhere, unable to look him in his eyes while it feels like your heart is beating erratically. And even though you know very well how he is faking everything, you can’t help but regress to the same you, the same you who is so helplessly in love with the man you hate. The same you who spends every day wondering how did the two of you end up that way.

“You only took the bat from me because you’re scared I might whack you with it. And not going to lie, I was contemplating it,” you mumble.

“It’s okay babe.” He tries to cheer you up, a slight undertone of insincerity in his voice. He continues to ignore your statement. “You did your best. Snapping turtles are slow, but they still manage to survive.”

Ignoring the fact that Wonwoo’s hand is warm because he has warm packs in each of his loungewear jacket pockets (and the fact that he refused to share one with you), someone catches your eye in the distance. Where workers are cleaning up the aftermath of the squash game, a familiar-looking man stands to the side where some lodge patrons flock around him with rectangular objects in their hands. Once you see him turn his head your way, your entire body freezes – Wonwoo’s touch suddenly begins to feel cold against your skin. And Wonwoo, who was expecting you to get mad at him for calling you a turtle, can’t help but notice your state of panic. And he not so subtly turns around to see who could be causing you so much fear.

“Oh my,” he mutters, coming to his realization.

“I can’t believe –” you begin before Wonwoo interrupts your train of thought.

“I hope he rots in hell before he can get his next book deal,” he almost spits at the man from several feet away. He drops his hand from your cheek and takes a tiny step back before taking a deep breath as if he is about to ask you something that he would regret, “Do you mind staying a little longer? I want to make sure chauvinists never win book upgrades.”

“Room upgrade,” you correct him while glaring at the other man from afar.

“What?”

“You misspoke.” You guide your attention back to the man who is, for what you think is the first time, looking at you attentively and without malice. And the fact that he is looking at you amicably makes your brain go haywire, but you subdue your thoughts and continue the conversation. “It’s the ‘room’ upgrade that we’re trying to stop him from winning.”

“Book upgrade or room upgrade, it’s the same thing.” He frowns while tapping the end of the bat against the ground. “It turns out your pickup truck man is the author my team is after. But I’d rather be jobless than to work with someone like him.”

So he works with you, absolutely demolishing the competition during the Dinner and Paint section and loudly cheering for you while you stacked plastic cups. And the way he smiles at you, lovingly and with the glimmer reflected from the ceiling lights contrasted against the cocky attitude he surrounds himself with when one of you wins a game – it almost makes you forget that you’re supposed to hate him. How easily he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against his embrace so much that his cologne lingers on your clothes, leaves you feeling hopeless. Because the only time Jeon Wonwoo could ever approach you without visibly withering in repulsion is when he acts like he is in love with you.

Outside the cozy lodge, the Sun sets its rays on the heavy layers of snow. While the Earth turns to face the other way, the rays wash the pillowy white crystals in a warm and deep burgundy orange – a warm embrace, a promise to return, before parting for the night. As you clean Wonwoo’s smudged glasses with the hem of your shirt, he sneaks his right arm around your waist while he leans further into his seat as the Couple’s Night host announces the next game. You feel something warm enter the pocket of your jacket and look down to see Wonwoo’s hand back on your waist. The untouched hand warmer gradually feels hotter in your pocket when you gently place your fake husband’s glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He whispers a small “thank you,” and you can only smile back at him with a heaviness in your heart that only you can carry.

The hand warmer feels like it would burn through your clothes at any second.

four

“Team Snowball, what did your partner answer for the question: ‘What is your partner picky about eating?’” The emcee points at the woman sitting next to you who gladly flips her sketchbook around for the other half of the room to see. She squints her eyes, trying to read the woman’s squiggly writing, and smiles when she realizes it’s a match. “Soft grapes? It’s a match. Point to Team Snowball.”

Despite everything going around you, you can’t help but fidget in your seat, the sketchbook’s pages starting to feel damp in your sweaty palms. Wonwoo sits with the separated pairs across from you. He crosses his legs, and his sketchbook lays comfortably across his lap so he can twirl his black marker in his hand. Even when you know you wrote the correct answer to Wonwoo’s food preferences, the two of you are still several points behind the other teams. Your stomach cannot help but feel queasy every time you embarrassingly flip your sketchbook for others to see. Because every single wrong answer about your “husband” whom you love very much feels like a punch in your gut every time you hear snickers from the others around you.

Seafood is your answer; you’re the last to answer this round’s question. You earn a small cheer from the woman reading your answer and a small smile from Wonwoo. He sneaks you a tiny thumbs up, the tip of his thumb poking out of his sweater.

“Next question,” dictates the emcee. “When did you know they were the one?”

It’s an abstract question – one that doesn’t necessarily need matching answers from both sides. Still, you look across to look at Wonwoo, uncertain whether or not he would put much thought into an answer he would have to pull out of thin air. Uncapping his marker with his mouth, he pulls the sketchbook closer to him to scribble down whatever comes to his mind. The action leaves your mouth feeling dry: one, obviously, because he uncapped the marker with his mouth; and two, he was the first to start writing.

Some answers are simple. Some answers are meaningful. Some answers are like yours – “love at first sight.”

Corny, overused, and unusual, your answer is the safest route you knew you could take. And despite how clichéd your answer is – its timelessness, its Hallmark-ability – still garners a series of awws from everybody around you. Technically, there is some truth to your answer. You developed a tiny crush the first time you saw him at the office. Who wouldn’t? He surrounds himself with illustrations of anthropomorphic animals and has a laugh that bellows and fills any room with joy. He made your days brighter by simply existing.

Now, the brightness struggles to navigate its way through the thick fog. And you’re left alone in the cold, the fog’s misty droplets clinging onto your skin.

It’s weird how in this life, time moves linearly, but moments and experiences with others exist in intervals – interludes that we can relive over and over again through memories. Sometimes we experience interludes of happiness, interludes of pain, and interludes where it only seems like there are only two people in this world. But nobody can determine how long these interludes can last and for how long you can try to hold on to these moments before letting go.

“Let’s see if Team Turtle can earn a point. Please show us your answer.”

“I’m kind of embarrassed,” he softly chuckles, voice more sonorous than ever, while standing his sketchbook on his knee.

9 pm is his answer. You, and the rest of the people sitting beside you, cannot help but gaze at his answer in confusion.

It is only when he sees you staring at him he finally clarifies, “When we were sitting in my car eating donuts while the waves crash on the shores in front of us. You smiled at me with pieces of maple donut glaze stuck to your upper lip.”

You. He speaks in the second person and looks directly at you with a soft gaze. It couldn’t be, you think. But it is true, you recognize his diction as true. He’s speaking to you.

And you remember that shared moment in the front seats of his car, the night of the work trip. The donuts were for the poet, but the two of you had the door slammed in your faces before being able to hold a full conversation with the poet. And after an entire day of confusion and apologies, the two of you were finally able to fulfill your portions for the work trip. Who knew that the tiny suggestion of walking along the pier after dinner would turn out disastrous – frigid ocean winds strong enough to blow people away? The clothes the two of you packed were not meant to sustain harsh winds but harsh sunlight – after all, the work trip’s destination is a beach town. So the two of you sat in his car, eating donuts, people-watching, and sharing anecdotes to get to know each other better. It was the type of conversation that you would do anything to prolong its duration, the type of conversation with the right type of person.

“You were so happy,” he finishes.

You were so happy, it echoes in your head.

Are you happy now?

“How about you?” The emcee turns to you for clarification. “Your partner gave us such a beautiful explanation. So, you have to explain your ‘love at first sight.’ Tell us about it.”

“Ohh,” Wonwoo begins awkwardly while giving an equally awkward chuckle. “You don’t have to if you do-”

“I was having a really bad morning.” You smile into your lap and look up at your supposed husband. You don’t know why or how the full day with unease bubbling inside of you dispersed so quickly after Wonwoo’s particular answer. But you launch into your story, letting the words flow out of your mouth like melted snow on a grassy hill under the bright Sun. “A really bad morning. I ended up working overtime and accidentally missed my morning alarm. I had to chase the bus while my hot coffee poured out of its opening and onto my skin. My entire day at the office was a mess because I kept messing up. I felt awful and exhausted. So I worked overtime for the second day in a row to clean up my errors. Someone places hot green tea in front of me, the free ones at the office. There is a doodle of a stingray with the dumbest-looking smile on its face. It looked so pathetic that it made me feel a little better about myself. He says that he accidentally boiled too much hot water and thought to make a cup for me. And then he holds his own up in front of his face. There’s a picture of a cat wearing glasses. ‘You can do it,’ he tells me in a squeaky voice. And he leaves. We don’t meet again for about a month, but his kind gesture pieced me back together. And I held onto his kindness for days.”

He stares at you, a few strands of his hair out of place and in front of his eyes. He doesn’t care to move them back in place. There’s that smile on his face, the exact one you imagined to be on his face that time he sat on the other side of your shared door. Soft coral lips relaxed, but the cupid’s bow is slightly perked as the corners of the lips turn upward. He tries to hide the fact that he is smiling, keeping his happiness hidden and only to himself.

So you smile at him. An honest, genuine smile where the cheeks kiss the lower lashes. And his lips stretch thinly so that his brilliant white teeth shyly make their way into the open. He smiles back at you.

Musicians know that an interlude, in music, is an interrupting or intervening passage that connects different parts of a song. An interlude can also be a song in an album. In other words, there are different ways for musical interludes as well as temporal interludes to exist. Now, there is a new interlude in your timeline, this shared moment where two timelines from two completely different lives collide and converge. Anybody can tell that this shared moment is filled with happiness and understanding…perhaps, even longing.

But what do you call it when these two timelines have converged in the past? If two timelines that once converged reconverge at a further point on the timeline, did that initial interlude ever truly end? Are interludes simply short periods in our lives if these interludes stay in our timelines forever, even when the moments they denote end?

Nevertheless, at this moment, you know you’re happy. And you can only hope the man who sits across from you, the one who looks at you with a reminiscent expression you once experienced so long ago, is feeling the same way.

“Okay. We’re in third place. If we win this one, then we’ll be a point ahead of them.”

“I tied it pretty tightly. Is the tightness okay with you?” Wonwoo frowns from below you, seemingly exploring a different problem at hand. He inspects the rope he tied around your leg, poking and prodding at different sections. “It’s a three-legged race, but I don’t want you getting hurt from an accidental rope burn because I tied it too tightly.”

“Wonwoo, it’s fine.” You pat his left shoulder, letting him know he doesn’t have to worry.

He grabs your stretched hand, and you help hoist him upwards. But there is an apparent frown on his face.

“Why do you still call me Wonwoo,” he mumbles while wrapping your arm around his back and on his waist. There is a tiny pout on his face pointed downwards as he naturally loops his arm around your shoulders like he had done it a thousand times. “Are you not comfortable with calling me ‘babe?’ Any other name also works.”

Deep down, or not even deep down, you know he is right. You are uncomfortable with the idea of casually calling him by these pet names over and over again. Calling him by fake pet names, not counting the many idealistic scenarios that once played in your head, in this case, feels very wrong. His sudden change in attitude towards you as well as his overall demeanor after the last game left you in shock. A plot twist in a season finale would be less shocking than what you feel at this very moment. Like every other hypothetical person in your situation, you choose to ignore your problems by focusing on your other problems at hand. Because you know very well, allowing yourself to fully play into this fake husband rouse, even in times when you’re truly happy, would only hurt you in the end. And you’ve been hurt by him before, not really sure if you ever fully healed.

But you can’t deny he looks and seems nothing like the literal he-devil he was this morning. In fact, he seems to be the opposite. Even without being physically tied to you, he trails behind you like a lost puppy and clings onto your sleeve like a cat who kneads dough on your arm, nails hooked onto the fabric of your clothing. And you let him hold you close to him so much that he leans his chin on your shoulder while listening to others talk. And you let his hair tickle your scalp and would let him melt into you if he asked.

Getting hurt by the same man twice does not make a right. Succinctly, it only makes you dumb. So, to protect yourself, you use the image of the screaming man from the morning to remind yourself that everything is a rouse no matter how much you enjoy each moment with the illustrator.

The three-legged race’s course starts in the banquet hall, passes through the hallway and into the lobby, takes several twists and turns throughout the sitting area, and finishes in the banquet hall. Wonwoo takes the lead, firmly holding you against him while he chants “in, out, in, out” to direct how the two of you should speed-walk. But the excitement of the games and the promise of the upgraded room must have gone over the heads of several of the teams, causing each team to speed walk into a sprint once they left the banquet hall.

Wonwoo and you are also victims of wanting to win, or at least of wanting to beat the author. But in this incredibly small lodge, there are only so many paces you can take before having to try to squeeze past another team. And Wonwoo practically hoists you onto his foot without notice, penguin-walking you to make it past another team to navigate through the sectioned seating area.

Startled by his sudden lack of communication, you demand he set you down. “Let me go,” you grunt after being jostled against one of the round wooden tables. You are absolutely sure your hip would bruise in the morning if he bumped you into one more object. “It’d be easier if one of us walks ahead of the other.”

Does it look like I care?” His ego slips from his tongue, completely coating the sweet words that came out of his mouth before the game started. His sudden change in tone catches you by surprise. “I’ll buy a sled from the gift shop if it means I get to drag you instead of hauling you around.”

“It’s just a game.” You try to push yourself off of him, annoyed that he’s suddenly being uncooperative with you. In the meantime, the team behind the two of you catches up and pulls ahead. “Let me go before one of us gets hurt.”

Wonwoo’s eyes aren’t trained on you. Instead, he stretches his head to look at the few teams in front of the two of you. Surprisingly, the two of you make it out of the seating area without any trouble. Before the two of you can make a sprint back toward the banquet hall, you pull yourself away from Wonwoo, yanking his arm off of your shoulder.

“Babe, come on.” He holds out his hand for you to grab onto. “We’re going to end up being last.”

But your hand never reaches out to meet his.

“Babe? Are you serious? Are you kidding me? Are you really calling me ‘babe’ right now?” You almost shriek at him if it weren’t for the fact that the two of you are standing in proximity to the reception desk. But you are exasperated, your voice wobbles as you voice what is bothering you. “I’ve had it with you, Wonwoo. I tried communicating with you. I tried voicing my fears. But your head is so far up your ass that you couldn’t even think about the safety of the person right beside you. Am I sad and mad about what happened this morning? Yeah, I still am. Nobody deserves to be treated that way, but nobody deserves to be ignored. I don’t care about winning anymore. I feel humiliated, utterly and devastatingly humiliated by you and by myself. To think I let myself have fun around you. To think I believed for a second that you truly did care about me. At one point, I thought we were friends. At one point, I really did like you for who you were. But I guess I can’t expect people to stay the same, can I?” More words and sentences pour out of your mouth – like a small tornado that grows larger in size after picking up all of the things you left unsaid, the words that threatened to slip from your tongue all picked up and twirled into the tornado, you ended up saying more than what you meant to say.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” he begins, but he can only hopelessly stare at you squatting in place to untie the rope that binds the two of you.

“There.” You bitterly drop the rope in his free hand. “You’re free from me now. You can go back to hating me all you want.”

“But I don’t hate you.”

“I’m done, Wonwoo. I’m done with being confused so I’m just going to give up and wallow in my room until Jeonghan picks me up once the snow clears.”

five

“No offense, but I would never spend that much time or energy on a guy…especially a guy who treats you like that. He even stopped pounding on your front door so that obviously means that he’s the type to stop trying after a while,” your cousin rants from the other side of your phone screen. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose while the cat he is looking after purrs contently on his lap. “So what are you? A masochist? You like men who treat you poorly and then reward you with like an hour of happiness? That’s literally like if professors gave you the hardest final you’ve ever taken in your life and told you to grab a free cookie after you turned in the final. What are you even holding onto at this point?”

“I don’t know,” you wail at the older man, crumpling your used tissue in the palm of your hand. It quickly joins the growing pile of snot-riddled balls of tissue at the edge of your bed. When you recline into your initial position, the shifted blanket knocks Wonwoo’s hand warmer onto the floor.

“Eww stop holding your phone so close to your face,” Jeonghan complains, “Vernon says I kinda look like you, and I can’t help imagining that’s how I look when I cry.”

“I don’t know why I still like him,” you mumble to your cousin. You honestly still don’t understand why you like him despite every single recent negative encounter with him. To be honest, your heart doesn’t flutter as it does with the characters in the novels you read. Nothing cliched happens when you see him, like how the world stops and he is the only one who walks in slow motion. Quite frankly, your days pass by whether you see him or not, but it doesn’t mean that the thought of him crosses your mind every once in a while.

“Maybe you just like the idea of him,” he offers with a sigh. There isn’t much that he could do for you in the middle of a snowstorm except to be on a video call with you and hope that the can solve whatever you have going on before his bedtime.

“I make up scenarios of him in my mind but I still prefer the real him,” you admit with a twinge of embarrassment. You can only sink deeper under your covers, pulling the cabin-themed sheets closer to your chest. Maybe you’re still holding onto the Wonwoo who existed during the work trip, and maybe, you think, he still exists somewhere.

“Hypothetically, do you maybe think that the reason why he’s so bad at everything is because he spends most of his time with children and draws instead of writing so his communication skill is basically hindered? Like how you’re good with feelings and ideas because that’s the bulk of the media you surround yourself with daily so you have more exposure to that area. So you have man-child versus person with skewed expectations on love and relationships. But then you literally have people like me…perfect in every aspect.”

“Shut up. You talk about traffic every morning but you can’t even name the model of your car. You were also tricked by a catfish.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I’m sorry,” you beg him. “Please don’t.”

“My point is.” He places his phone down on the sleeping cat to use as a temporary phone stand while he gathers his thoughts. “The two of you seem like total opposites. And the only time the two of you seem to work well together is when you meet in the middle. So, have you ever tried communicating with him? Ever pulled him to the side to ask him why he’s such an ass?”

Yoon Jeonghan’s simple solution to your problem causes your brain to briefly short-circuit. Silence fills your lonely cabin room as your mouth slightly hangs open while your cousin silently judges you from the other end of the phone. It took a simple suggestion to make you realize that you have been hanging onto Wonwoo’s personality change to even think to consider the idea of confronting him about it. And Jeonghan’s hypothesis may not be wrong at all – life isn’t a fictional novel where everything can be magically solved in the incoming chapters.

“No?” Your answer is meek. You don’t know what to feel after this revelation. Anger? Despair? Peacefulness?

“And is he still knocking on your door? Trying to talk to you?” His tone is gentle for once.

“Yeah?” You look to the right side of your room where the door stands between his room and yours. Slips of lodge notebook paper often found in the nightstand drawers slowly shove themselves through the tiny crack under the door. “I think he’s pushing slips of paper under our shared door.”

“Then go talk to him. But throw away your snot pile and fix your appearance before you do. Yeah?”

“What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. Bye.”

Sitting on the floor with your back leaned against the door, you shuffle the sheets of paper in your hands. There are a couple of sorry notes partnered with sad and apologetic-looking animal doodles. There are a few slips where he asks you to forgive him. Then there are these series of slips – a mini cartoon of his morning, this morning – that somehow cause a small upwards curl to form on your lips.

Blue ballpoint pen ink depicts a series of panels starting with a text he received this morning. This comic is void of cute tiny animals and can only be drawn with the sincerity of a children’s book illustrator. He draws himself staring at his phone screen in confusion – you’re missing, and the rest of the work group chat has no idea where you are. And he’s worried. Everybody is worried, but nobody is worried enough to send search parties for you. Blue-figured Wonwoo rushes out of his room, completely abandoning his presentation for the author, to rush to the entrance of Interlude. Because he knows that your team always passes through Interlude, but you’re known to arrive at the campsite while rubbing your eyes, hair frizzing from the static built from your head rubbing against the headrest while you were sleeping on the way there. But the scene he stumbles upon makes him angry despite how relieved he is to know that you are okay.

The few pages that you hold in your hand are smudged with blue ink, and the ending is unfinished. Wonwoo softly rasps his knuckles against the shared door, calling out your name. When you don’t reply, he sighs and sits down with his back against the door. You feel a tiny jolt with his added pressure against the door. Still, you can’t bring yourself to confront him. At least not yet.

“I’m childish and I let myself get caught up in moments. And you were right, if something happened to you, I would never forgive myself for hurting you. At one point, I really did forget that the reason why we agreed to work together was because we didn’t want him to win. I ended up wanting us to win, or at least for you to win so you could have the upgrade. I’m really sorry for not communicating well with you, and for how I acted.”

The sound of his hair leaving the door lets you know that he probably dropped his head toward his lap.

Taking a shallow breath, he mutters into his hands, “And I wasn’t lying when I talked about us at the beach. I really did like you then. I still like you.”

“Then why ignore me? Why act like you hate me? What did I do to deserve how you treated me?” The questions leave your mouth in a flare of anger.

“I started ignoring you because I was hiding from you. I couldn’t confront you because I knew I would make it obvious that I liked you. But I guess I hid from you for too long because you thought I hated you.” His voice muffled from being on the other side of the door.

“So all of this happened because of some big misunderstanding? Just because we couldn’t confront each other?”

So it really was a simple problem with a simple solution. The revelation feels like a sore punch in the gut, one that’s so surprising that all you can do is laugh.

“I’m sorry, Yn. I really am.”

“I’m also sorry.” You feel really guilty now that you know that you were wrong to believe that he hated you. “I should’ve confronted you about this earlier.”

“Does it still hurt?” His voice sounds clearer as if he shifted his body so he sits facing the door.

“Oh, from the race? Actually nothing happened.”

“From when you fell from heaven,” he finishes with his voice trailing in diminuendo, almost as if he is slightly embarrassed from using the overused pick-up line.

“It actually hurt a lot,” you joke. “But I’m glad it was you who found me in the middle of the road.”

“Then can I stay by your side? Not separated by doors, but by your side?”

So you push yourself away from the door, turning around to unlock the brassy knob. The door slowly swings open to Wonwoo, who is still sitting on the floor, now facing you. And you awkwardly sit in front of him, not really able to meet his eyes.

“I think I have a lot to learn.” He fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “I’ll start by being more communicative about my feelings,” he promises with a soft smile. “Because I really do like you.”

“I like you too.”

There is a magnetic pull that slowly draws the two of you closer together, a comforting sort of sensation that offers a moment of solace created from two extremes. The outside world is dark. The snowstorm has long gone. The surfaces where the sunlight once touched are replaced with the soft yellow glow of several lamps around both of your rooms. Kaleidoscopic remnants of shards of light scatter around every surface. But the two of you, seemingly in the very corners of your shared world exert a different type of glow - one that can only be created in a collision like the break of dawn after a devastating snowstorm.

“I really like you too,” you can’t help but reaffirm.

“It’s actually ‘I also like you.’” He can’t help but playfully correct you. “You’re the publisher. You shouldn’t be making these errors.” He teases.

“And you’re the illustrator, so shouldn’t you stay quiet so I can kiss you?”

one month later

At the base of a computer monitor, a tiny wooden whittled cat naps lazily next to its turtle counterpart. Two people sit side-by-side in the breakroom a few rooms away, the metal seats practically stuck to each other. While their lunches heat up in the microwave, the two happily discuss the upcoming young adult novel they are finally working on together. Under the table, their pinkies naturally interlock. The man who scrolls through art ideas on his tablet can’t help but let his eyes linger on his partner for a little too long while they scroll enthusiastically through the several concept art slides he created. When the microwave sounds, he quickly leaves a soft and brief kiss on the side of his partner’s temple before getting up to remove their heated lunches. And the partner smiles while turning back to look at him, a smile brighter than the soft sunlight that wraps the room in a warm afternoon glow.

There’s a new interlude in their timelines. In this interlude, the two opposites are taking it slow, learning to meet in the middle.

dedicated to ellie (@flowershu/@eliphant). just wanted to thank you for supporting wondernus for all these years. happy new year <33

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo au #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x yn #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios

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alieinthemorning · 3 months

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Marital Duties [Xavier]

Content: Fluff, Suggestive Themes, Friends to Lovers, Fast Burn, POV Second Person

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You liked cooking. You wouldn’t say your food was anything to write home about, but it was good, and that’s all that mattered. It was also nice to see the smiles on your friends faces when they ate your food. It feels good to feed others.

However,

“This is really good.”

There was a certain friend of yours that was beginning to over stay his welcome.

“Next time, I think we should try this new recipe—” You placed your hands firmly on his shoulders as you pushed him toward the door.

“Yes, yes. We can talk more about it later.” You said quickly as you shoved him out into the empty hallway.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He stumbled out the door from your harsh push, but he was quick to spin on his heel, “Oh, and—”

“I’ll see you at headquarters, Xavier.” You told him with a smile as you slammed the door in his face.

You quickly locked the door, waiting for the sound of retreating footsteps to finally becoming silent. You retreated to your bedroom, pointedly ignoring the mess in the kitchen (that was a problem for the you of tomorrow to deal with). You plopped down on your bed, the exhaustion of the day’s excitement finally catching up with you.

Or rather, the week’s excitement.

Ever since you helped him make those egg tarts, Xavier has been visiting just about every day for a meal or two or three, not that it bothers you that much anymore. In the beginning it took quite the toll on your wallet, but after a conversation with him, Xavier made sure the two of you made a trip to the grocery store every week with him footing the bill. But that man could eat. You could most likely make him a seven-course meal, and he’d ask for more.

You adore cooking for your friends, but this was beginning to become something more than cooking for a friend.

So the next day, when Xavier came over, you decided to make your problem known.

You shoved your left hand into his face. “Look at my hand. Tell me what’s wrong with it.”

He looked at it, turned it over and over. He even looked under your fingernails, but pouted when he found nothing. “…I don’t see anything.”

You pulled your hand back, tapping the finger by your pinky. “There’s no ring, Xavier.”

He tilted his head. “So?”

“So, because there’s no ring on my finger, I won’t keep cooking for you.” You crossed your arms with a huff. “You’re getting marital benefits, for friend prices.”

“I…” He paused, grabbing your hand and looking over it again. “Okay.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Huh?”

He just nodded, “Mmh. Come on, I’m starving.”

All you could do is follow him, as it seemed you were always doing. “…you’re always starving.”

It had been a few weeks since the ring situation, and it seemed like things had calmed down a bit.

How wrong you were.

Sitting in between the two of you, on the dining room table, was a white velvet box.

And within that box, was a ring.

…

He had taken you seriously.

You plucked the ring out of the box,

and slipped it on your finger.

Xavier was staring intently at his empty plate. “Hmmm…”

You tilted your head, “What’s up? Was the food not good?”

“No, of course not. Your food is always delicious. It’s just…” You wanted for him to continue, “…I feel like I’m not doing much as your husband.”

You chuckled. “We’re not actually married—” The look on his face, a firm pout, made you pause. “…yet.”

The pout was replaced with a small smile. “Yes, I know, but I don’t think it matters too much that if we call each other that.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem then?”

He sighed, looking off to the side. “I just feel like I’m not doing enough.”

You furrowed your brows. Xavier was doing more than enough. Yes, the two of you did skip right from friendship to marriage, but Xavier wasn’t doing anything. He continued buying your groceries, but he also put extra little treats in the cart for the two of you to share. You went on dates when you both shared a day off. You picked up little knick-knacks that reminded you of the other, leaving a bit of yourself in the other’s apartment. You didn’t know where this was coming from.

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “Xavier, you’ve given me everything.”

His cheeks flushed red. “…not everything…”

Oh.

You bit your lip, as you felt yourself flush at the implication. “Um, well, I—”

Finally, he looked at you.

And you really wished he hadn’t.

“I think I should change that…tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “T-tonight!?”

He smiled, standing up.

“Right now.”

Catch the continuation on the other account. wink wonk ;)

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #love and deepspace x reader #xavier x reader #lds x reader #lds xavier x reader

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shanbinswf · 9 months

Text

LEAVE YOUR LOVER — yoon keeho [repost]

landing page. main masterlist.

pairing: best friend roommate keeho x afab reader

genre: mild angst, mild fluff, smut (mdni)

plot: your best friend and roommate keeho doesn’t take too kindly to how your boyfriend treats you, so after some good food and a few glasses of wine, he makes a proposal. one night with him, and if you feel nothing, he’ll never bring up how shit your boyfriend is again.

wc: 4714

warnings under the cut.

warnings: reader cheats on her boyfriend, reader’s boyfriend is a right asshole (still don’t defend her cheating), mentions of body image and low self esteem, mentions of food and eating, mentions of alcohol consumption and being mildly drunk, kind of drunk sex but also kind of not. technically a part one.

YOU WOULD NEVER SAY YOU HATED YOUR BOYFRIEND PER SAY, BUT HE WAS FOR SURE MAKING HIS WAY INTO YOUR BAD BOOKS AS OF RECENT WEEKS.

His most recent stunt? You were meant to be hanging out with him over the course of a couple of days at some spa retreat weekend he had planned, only for him to flake out the morning of. He claimed he had some work ‘things’ he had yet to finish, but you knew the truth—he just wanted to spend the weekend drunk with his boys and forget he had a girlfriend back home, something he was seemingly starting to do quite often.

Lucky you hadn’t packed your bags. You had faced one too many weekend getaway trips being cancelled at the last minute for an array of reasons—none of which you believed.

He seemed to forget you both ran in the same circle of friends, though, so you often caught him out in his lies through the social media posts your friends posted with or of him. And the most recent night out? He even had a woman’s arms around his neck while they danced.

Your best friend and roommate, Yoon Keeho, was witness to all the screaming and writhing around you did when you held your phone to your face and read over the shitty messages your even shittier boyfriend send you.

While you couldn’t say you hated your boyfriend—despite being not far off from being able to make the claim; Keeho was less forgiving and very open about the fact he hated your boyfriend with his entire being.

Each time you invited your boyfriend over, Keeho was less than accommodating. He often made sure to push his way to sit between you so your boyfriend was either sandwiched to the end of the couch, or worst case, Keeho always made an effort to make himself as big as possible so he took up more space which more often than not ended with your boyfriend being forced to sit on the singular bean bag chair—the same one you often drunk-made out with Keeho on. A secret your boyfriend didn’t need to know.

Keeho lazed back in his usual chair at the small table you had both just bought and assembled. His fingers gently played with the stalk of the wine glass, and his eyes looked everywhere around the apartment bar at you. “We’ve really made this place our own, don’t you think?” A small, soft smile tugged at his lips.

You nodded your head, looking around also. The place was mostly decorated with Ikea furniture, but you had both chipped in to buy everything—it helped you had similar tastes. You admired the red pull out double bed couch in the living room, and you couldn’t help but feel excitement at the 55 inch TV that decorated the wall which cost… a lot. But it was worth it. It made your movie nights all the more exciting.

“Shame we can’t break the table in,” Keeho’s voice became low, barely audible but as the apartment was silent, you could still hear every word that passed his lips. At first, you didn’t respond. It took a few seconds of the words to sink in. And when they finally did, your eyebrow raised in reaction.

“Excuse me? I plan to eat at the table every meal, every day,” You defended, sitting up straighter. Your knees hit the leg of the table, making it shake slightly. You rushed to grab the base if your wine glass, not wanting to spill any. It was a bottle Keeho bought when you first moved out to live alone, mere weeks before he begged to move in with you as his old roommates were being kicked out of their apartment at that time.

And what kind of best friend would you be if you said no to him?

Keeho’s face deadpanned, and you realised the meaning behind his words rather swiftly. You gasped, but then raised your hand to hide your laugh. You tilted your head back. “Gross, I don’t want to think about my best friend fucking some random girl on the table I eat at!” Your face crinkled as you cringed, shaking your head furiously to try to rid yourself of the thought.

Keeho raised an eyebrow, leaning on his elbows. He leant across the table, and you felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. You had a boyfriend, the feelings you had for Keeho were wrong. But you still couldn’t snuff them out—no matter how hard you tried.

“Who said it was going to be some random woman? I was planning on fucking someone you know quite well,” And while a part of you thought he was insinuating it be yourself, you shook your head and reminded yourself to not get lost in the fantasy. You saw the girls he followed on his social media apps, the ones he often thirsted over (yes, even to you as he thrust his phone into your hand for better view of the screen)—the women who you deemed a total opposite to yourself.

“If you fuck one of my friends, you’re sleeping in a shitty tent on the balcony and I’m selling your room to someone else,” You faux threatened, but the humour didn’t reach your eyes as your chest ached just at the thought of his hands on someone else, ached at the thought of his attention being stolen by someone else—even worse at the idea of it being someone you know and call a friend.

You wanted that. You wanted… him.

Keeho leant back against his seat and brought the wine glass to his lips, tilting his head as he took a sip. He looked elegant, his white shirt sleeves pushed up his arms and his glasses sat on the edge of his nose. You wanted to pounce on him, but ever since you had been friends with him at the start of your college years, you had found great strength and control.

Back then, you always found Keeho incredibly attractive and even considered asking him for a one night stand several times, but when you guys went clubbing and found him in some corner with his hands on a stranger’s ass, you always backed out of the idea. And then you began to date.

Sure, most of your boyfriends never lasted long and some even claimed your friendship with Keeho was suspicious, you had learnt to keep your feelings and desires on a very tight leash over the years. Now your current boyfriend has no fear of you and Keeho living together, and you almost questioned if he would even think twice if he caught you and Keeho napping on the couch in one another’s arms—a common recent occurrence on lazy, rainy weekends.

Keeho placed the wine glass back on the table, his eyes locking onto you. “I never said it would be one of your friends. I just said you knew her very well.”

Your skin tingled, and you rushed to stand. You forced a laugh and pointed to the direction of your bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower and change into some pyjamas…”- Your voice trailed off as your mind flashed with an intrusive thought—begging to ask him to shower with you or wait patiently in your room as you busied yourself to look perfect in an attempt to gain his attention, even if it lasted just a second.

As if he could read minds, Keeho stood and held his wine glass, following behind you. You turned to face him as you reached your door, eyebrow raised with suspicion. “Why are you stalking me?”

“I’m going to watch a movie in your bed while you shower. You said it’s movie night so you have to keep your promises,” He sounded defensive, his lips pouted ever so slightly.

“We literally have a huge TV and pull-out bed in the living room,” You began, but his pout only increased at your words as he found himself disliking them the more you talked. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his face with your hand, squeezing his cheeks to force his lips to stick out even more. “You’re such a big baby, you know that?”

“Yeah, your baby,” He managed to get out, his face daring to turn so he could press a kiss to your wrist. You gasped and pulled your hand away from his face.

“Gross, Keeho germs,” You giggled, then turned to finally throw your bedroom door open.

“That’s not what you said a few weeks ago when you were making out with me and basically dry humping me,” Keeho spoke confidently, and your eyes fell wide as you looked around—as if your boyfriend or any other intruding ears could overhear.

“You promised not to talk about that, I’ve been good lately and I haven’t laid a hand on you in… that way ever since,” You defended yourself.

A part of you often lay awake at night after your drunken escapades with Keeho. He never pushed you away, no matter how much you got lost in the feeling of his lips. His hands always remained polite and on your waist, never daring to move in either direction. Surely any other just-a-best-friend would push you away if you kissed them… right? But Keeho… he never did.

“I wish you would,” Keeho said matter of fact my before he forced his way into your bedroom. He walked to your bed without a care in the word and placed his wineglass on the bedside table your boyfriend claimed his own, then he threw himself on the bed—the same place your boyfriend slept whenever he slept over, which was not often.

A place you wished was claimed by Keeho instead…

Your phone buzzed from in the drawer where you locked it before your Ikea trip, holding it prisoner for fear you would text your boyfriend in a fit of rage or sadness. Keeho noticed your eyes flicker to the drawer, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you fucking dare give in. End it with him.”

You tore your eyes away from the drawer and made your way to your wardrobe. You opened the doors, then you pulled open the top drawer. Your hand reached in and you felt a pair of your favourite lounge ware, a grey coloured super soft set of pyjama shorts and a vest top with pale pink detailing of lace. You threw a look over your shoulder. “You know it’s not that easy,”

And then you disappeared into your en-suite bathroom.

That was one of the best and worst things about your apartment—both bedrooms had their own en-suite bathrooms. You wished there was a joint one sometimes, so you could relish in the scent of his body wash that suffocated the room when he was finished cleaning after his workouts or a long day.

A part of you also hated the idea, you wanted privacy to get lost in the world of Keeho-dreams—dreams of… an intimate nature. Dreams you felt ashamed to be having. Dreams your other friends assured you meant you were in love with Keeho. Dreams that had you delusional, and defensive over your own feelings at the same time.

The kind of dreams you should be having about your boyfriend and not your roommate and best friend.

You turned the shower on and allowed the room to steam up before you stepped in. The warm water hit you like a wave and hugged your body, making you feel comfortable and at ease. You had to remember he was just in the next room though, and you had to keep your hands tasked on only washing your body.

Once you felt clean, you washed your hair and then tied it back, too lazy to dry it properly. Then you made your way back to your bedroom.

Keeho was lazing against the headboard of your bed, and as he looked from the TV screen to you, you suddenly felt self conscious. It didn’t help that your bedroom had a cool air flowing through, hitting your exposed thighs and making you shiver.

You noticed his eyes looked down your body. Noticed how his eyes lingered a bit too long on your thighs. You rushed to sit on your side of your bed, grabbing a pillow to hide your body behind—and to attempt to gain some kind of warmth.

You smiled at Keeho, leaning closer to him to get a better view of the awkwardly angled TV screen. You silently made note to buy yourself a larger one, as out of you both, only you had a TV in your door. Keeho had a gaming PC, but it was out of commission for movies as one of his friends tipped water over the monitor and broke it—and Keeho has still yet to replace it.

“What are we watching?” You asked, your face closer to Keeho’s than you wished for, but you were doing a good job at controlling your inner urges.

“Some romance movie I think, I let Netflix choose one by random,” He replied, his arm snaking around your side to pull you closer.

Your body soon became flush to the side of his, and you wanted to either get up and run away, or sit on his lap and be even closer to him; but you stopped yourself from doing either option. You decided to rest your head on his shoulder, forcing a yawn to pretend you were tired. You just wanted to be close to him, but you couldn’t risk your friendship… Or relationship at that. The one you kept forgetting you were even in.

You watched the movie intently, inwardly cringing when a kissing scene appeared. Your eyes begged to flick to Keeho, to admire his perfect plump lips that you had last kissed a few weeks ago… you had to stop thinking about him like that—you had to forget your feelings for him and at least try to like your boyfriend for once.

As if right on cue, your phone began to buzz again, and you sighed.

You decided you best pick it up or he would call all night long. You pulled away from Keeho and threw your pillow on the floor, then you opened your bedside table a crack to pull the phone out but to ensure your privacy stayed intact. You knew if Keeho saw what you hid in your drawers, he would never let you live it down.

You rushed to shut the drawers, then you tried to slide the button to accept the call but the second your finger touched the green circle, your phone was swiped from your hands and thrown on a pile of nearby recently-cleaned clothes that needed folding and putting away.

You glared at Keeho. "What the fuck was that for?" You asked, rushing to get on your hands and knees so you could climb over him to get to the phone. But the second your left thigh landed on the bed the other side of his, his hands moved to grip your waist tight and hold you in place.

Keeho's eyes looked angry, and his grip was tighter than the soft lingering touches you were used to. You raised an eyebrow, confused by his sudden actions. He couldn't help himself, and his hands pulled your body to be flush against his. You gasped again, but this time you decided not to question him.

You had given in, and for once, you felt like you weren't the only one pushing your hidden desires onto him.

“Don’t answer his call,” Keeho’s voice was small, almost begging. Your eyes softened, and your hands came to rest on his cheeks. His own eyes softened at that, and his lips turned up into a smile.

“I can’t just ignore him all night,” You replied softly, which Keeho did not seem to take too kindly to. His hands tightened on your sides, your hands moving to hold onto his shoulders to support yourself. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to answer his call, or we are over,” Keeho’s voice was louder this time, but somehow deeper. You blinked innocently, surprised.

“Us? Over? We’re roommates, you can’t just move out because I answered a phone call,” You giggled a little, trying to laugh off his reaction as nothing more than a best friend caring for you—being a little too possessive over you.

“I’m not talking about moving out, I’m talking about how you’re my girl,” He over pronounced the word my, which caused you to tilt your head. He leant his head back against the wall with a sigh, and his hands moved from your sides to your thighs. His hands ran up and down slowly, gently. And your self conscious concerns were slowly coming back.

“What do you mean by my girl?” You asked, pulling your off of his body. You still made no effort to pull away from him though, but from the way you shifted on his lap and received a sharp intake of breath, you knew he was about to say something either very hurtful, or something you had been dreaming about for years.

“You can’t really think of us as just friends, right?” Keeho asked, his eyes closed and face still tilted towards the ceiling. You shook your head, but realised he couldn’t see or sense the motion so you muttered a rejection to the statement. “Exactly, we’re basically a fucked up couple and have been for years. But I don’t want to keep denying my feelings or pushing us apart, which is why I’m telling you not to answer his calls. End it with him, leave him.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s not that simple—” You began to which his head shot back to your direction, and his hand slap your thigh with a slight sting. “What the fuck was that for?” You asked, voice a little too loud, to which he raised an eyebrow. “I can’t just ghost him. I have to end it with him properly, you know I’ve wanted to for a while… I just don’t know how.”

Keeho nodded his head in understanding, one of his hands moving to tangle into your hair while the other thank spanked your thigh rubbed over the pink skin soothingly. “Well we can worry about that later, but how about we have some us time tonight, yeah?” Keeho smirked and even wiggled his eyebrows for added effect.

You laughed at first, but then moved your hands to his shoulders with a serious look on your face. “But then won’t I be cheating?”

“Well…” Keeho began, tilting his head to the side. “If you think about it, from the day we first met, I’ve been claiming you as my girl so technically… you’ve been cheating on me for years.”

You rolled your eyes, the smile back on your lips. “Not sure that’s how it works, but you do you I guess.”

“I’d rather do you,” He murmured, his hand forming a fist to get a good grip on your hair before he leant forward and pressed his lips gently to yours. The all-too-familiar fireworks erupted under your skin, warmth spreading everywhere he touched. You craved him, needed him to survive. It was like you were drowning, and he was your last gasp of fresh air.

You pulled back so you could watch your hands as you slowly slid them from his shoulders, down his chest, then you finally let them find home on his stomach over his shirt. Your fingertips begged to reach under and trace along his skin, but you resisted the urge.

His hand moved up your thigh, the highest it had gone that night, and you flinched. He noticed the action as he had been very intently watching your face and ever reaction to how you relished in the feeling of his body being so close to yours, and he couldn’t help but frown. Had your boyfriend said something to make you fear men touching your thighs? The thought alone pissed him off more than he thought possible.

“You okay, angel?” His voice whispered, and you mumbled something at first which he couldn’t quite catch. “Speak up baby, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

“I asked can you maybe…” You sighed as you leant your head forward onto his shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’m a bit self conscious about people touching certain parts of my body and my thighs are one of those places,” You explained.

Keeho turned his head to press a kiss against your temple, his fist in your hair loosening as his fingers decided to gently run through it instead. You realised he was trying to soothe you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you pressed turned your head and pressed your face into his neck.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Keeho whispered before he attempted to pull your body back so he could resume kissing you. Your body grew hot at the compliment, and so you rushed to try to hide his eyes from noticing and so you pressed your lips to his first. But firmer this time.

This time, there was almost a sense of urgency behind the kiss. The pressure was firm and your lips moved against each other faster. His hands moved to your thighs again, but the pressure was barely there, as if he was ghosting his hands over your skin. The sensation felt good, a little too good. So you gasped, and Keeho let out a faint chuckle before he took advantage of the situation and intruded your mouth with his tongue.

When you and Keeho made out, it was always messy. Messy, needy, a mess of all your unspoken feelings in a rush to get out. But this time, there was no rush or any unspoken feelings. You knew how he felt about you, and so you were ready to give into it all.

Your hands daringly moved lower on his stomach, reaching under his shirt. You hadn’t intended to insinuate for him to take it off, but that was how he took the action… and you weren’t complaining. Keeho detached from your lips long enough to quickly unbutton his shirt and pull it off before he found home against your lips once again.

His body was radiating warmth, and so one of your arms moved to wrap around his neck as you tried to pushed your body into his as much as possible. You felt him smile against your lips, and his hand moved higher up your thigh.

Then all of a sudden, hands grip your sides and you were thrown onto your back. You blinked with surprise at the sudden action, looking up at Keeho who now lay between your legs above you. He smiled down at you, eyebrow cocked. “You look a little dazed already baby. Is kissing me that good?”

You nod slowly, too drunk off the feeling of his lips to respond with anything else.

He laughed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lower lip before he pulled back again. “Then wait until you feel my cock inside you. You’re going to be lost in heaven.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, the arm that was lazing around his neck moving to his hair to gently tangle in the locks. “You’re pretty confident in yourself, but all I hear are words and no proof.”

Keeho shrugged, his hands moving from your sides to the insides of your knees. “Well I’m more than willing to show you right now if you ask nicely.”

Again, you rolled your eyes to which Keeho tutted. His hands pushed your legs apart and against the bed, this one of them moved to spank the opposite thigh to the one he had earlier. The action caused you to gasp, and you looked down your body to find his slotted against yours as if he was made for you.

“Less attitude, or I’ll have to fuck it out of you,” He threatened.

You pushed your lips closed in a show you were going to listen to his every word, and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the action. He leant down and pressed his lips to yours, but kissing you slowly once again. His hand that spanked your thigh did the same as the other one and earlier, gently rubbing the pink skin to ease the slight sting he had caused.

But then his hands daring slid up your thighs higher, to where the bottom of your shorts sat. Between kisses, you took a sharp intake of breath—one he heard and couldn’t resist but to smirk at. He was relishing in the way your body was reacting to his every touch. God, he wished he had done that sooner.

His fingertips pushed up the bottom of your shorts, delicate and dancing along your skin. You rushed to grab his wrists, pulling back to look into his eyes. “What are we doing?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, right now we’re talking instead of kissing like we should be.”

You rolled your eyes once again, earning a slap on your thigh. “Attitude,” He warned to which you let go of his wrists and held your hands up to prove your innocence.

“I meant… we’ve only ever made out before…” Your words trailed off. He nodded in response, then took a few seconds to realise what you were asking. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Well, would you like to do more?” He asked, laughing when you gave him a serious, almost stone cold look.

“You know I want to do more,” You replied.

“Well, do I? From what I can tell, I’m the one who has been simping over you all night while you’ve been too bust rolling your eyes or running your mouth,” Keeho responded.

“Please don’t make me get soppy about my feelings right now when your hands are basically under my clothes,” You laughed, Keeho laughing in response before he nodded with agreement. He decided to let it go… for now, he thought.

He leant his head back down, about to shower you in more kisses. You pursed your lips, waiting. But you never felt the pressure hit your lips. Instead, you felt soft lips trail down your jaw, down your neck… You took in a small breath, finding yourself enjoying the feeling as you closed your eyes.

One of Keeho’s hands pulled back from your thigh but instead moved to the front of your shorts, his fingers playing with the strings. He seemed… almost nervous to untie it. You nodded frantically, trying to focus on the feeling of his lips on your collarbones and his fingertips dancing on the inside of your thigh.

He felt the shake of your head so he pulled back and knelt above you, his fingers removed from your skin. His hands both moved to the strings of your shorts, and his eyes remained on yours as he gently pulled the strings. The top of your shorts felt loose, and you lifted your hips in an attempt to help him.

Keeho smiled softly and leant down to kiss your forehead before his fingers reached into the shorts, then he pushed them down your legs and threw them in the direction of the door to save yourself from having to struggle to determine which pile of your clothes were clean and which were dirty.

His fingers moved back to your thighs, resting on the soft inside. Your breath hitched as the self consciousness came back in waves. You looked around for your pillow to try to hide your body once again, and Keeho seemed to catch onto your feelings without you even expressing them.

“Baby,” He whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You look so beautiful, how did I get so lucky.”

You smiled at his words, your hand coming to rest on the back of his neck as your fingers found home to tangle into his hair.

#p1h #p1harmony #p1harmony scenario #p1harmony smut #p1harmony keeho #p1harmony imagine #p1h keeho #p1h smut #p1h keeho smut #keeho smut #yoon keeho

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sprout-fics · 11 months

Text

Unravel

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Read here on Ao3)

(Part 10 of 'Little Mouse')

Word Count: 4.2k Rating: Mature Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Hints of yandere König, Price Whump, Injury mention, Kidnapping, Capture, Angst, Violence, Torture, Slow-burn, Cliffhanger, König POV Warnings: Torture, Graphic depictions of violence, References to Rape/Non-Con, please read at your own discretion A/N: Please heed chapter warnings and note rating has changed

There's a steady drip of water inside the basement that grates at the back of König's senses, leaking from an overhead pipe and pooling in an oily puddle just past the toes of his boots. Fluorescent colors reflect off the surface, a viscous abstract of color that shimmers with every new drop. It's the kind of detail his mind would normally fixate upon, thoughts elsewhere and needing something to anchor to as the tides of his own emotions swirl uncertainty inside him. Roiling, churning, stretching and yawning wide inside the confines of his mind, seeking more space inside him than he can provide.

König comes down here into these rooms often to do just that, a secret hiding spot away from his team where he can exist in peace, calm the tumult of his mind in the dank, dark silence. Here he’s usually alone, has space to let the shadows of his doubts fester inside him, allow himself to pace the space endlessly in search of answers he cannot summon. König knows the dips and grooves of the uneven concrete floor like the back of his scarred hands, and can navigate the room blind if he needed to. It's quiet here, still, a desolate sanctuary in which to indulge the refuge of his psyche.

Now, the room fills with the iron tang of blood, grunts and creaks of a metal chair as the man in front of him receives another brutal blow across his jaw, spits blood onto the worn floor where it pools viscid and red.

Price.

The captain's arms are wrenched behind him at a jarring angle, fastened up to his elbows so he can't even have the mercy of trying to bend them to lessen the strain on his shoulders. Red drips from a contusion hidden somewhere under his hairline, his nose leaking- evident of it being broken by brute force. One eye is deeply purple, swollen, clotted with blood from a cut above his brow. He's lost his hat somewhere between Serbia and the satellite base, and no doubt some mercenary somewhere has kicked it uselessly into the dirt, forgotten.

Both Price's feet are cuffed to the iron folding chair under him, the legs wobbling precariously with each punch that rains down on him. Each blow is met with a mild grunt, a barely audible noise that attests to the captain's endurance, his refusal to break. There’s no voice in him, a refusal to bare even his pain to his enemy, an injured predator that snarls and retreats into its red, seeping wounds. Yet there's a pale pallor to his face that's evident of days of no food and little water, stuck here in this deep, dark basement, at KorTac's mercy.

At O'Conor's mercy.

THWACK-!

Price's head snaps to the side, opposite of where it had been knocked only a moment ago, and the force of it is enough to give even König whiplash from where he stands, arms crossed, leaning on the wall and observing the scene with a lidded, heavy stare. The shadows of the room, drawn by one single, flickering bulb above their captive, slant across the towering soldier's body, glinting off his bracers, the darks of his eyes.

Price's shoulders rise as he inhales, and König can hear the sound of something wet, grinding in the captain's chest before he hacks and spits another mouthful of blood at O'Conor's feet.

KorTac's commander laughs.

"Atta' boy, John." Declan huffs, shoulders rising with a barely restrained fury König has become fascinated by. There's an energy that coils in the commander's muscles, hidden under his gear, that reeks of an age-old wound, one that's long since festered and soured in his veins. It’s the thing that captures König as opposed to the man at O’Conor’s mercy, the Austrian’s eyes enraptured by the strange, vicious tale that seems to lie just under his commander’s flesh. He thinks for a moment that if he slices the skin, peels back the layers that the truth of it will come oozing free, dark as tar and dripping over his fingers.

Declan reaches forward and grabs Price by his hair, and Price snarls at the contact. There's a brief moment where König thinks the captain might twist and bite at his former comrade, seize skin between his teeth until he can't be sure where Declan's blood starts and his ends. The thought spikes a familiar interest in him, the low, simmering obsession with the color red, the purr of König's veins thrumming with energy at the violence that comes with war.

Yet Price doesn't rise to Declan's jab. It's remarkable. He's been silent this entire time, barely speaking for days unless asked about something of bare necessity. No doubt the man has conducted enough interrogations during his time in the military to know the exact strategy to keep his captors frustrated but invested, keen on keeping him alive if only for the promise of answers.

What answers Declan seeks, however, remain unclear.

The commander has taken his time to brutalize the captain, knocking him bloody unless Price can barely keep his eyes open. It's nothing short of a miracle the man hasn't passed out from a concussion yet with the punches Declan rains down on him. König thinks that the captain may be staying conscious through sheer willpower alone, and the thought is enough to summon a strange, reverential murmur of respect towards his enemy. Yet while O'Conor had offered only jibes and taunts, he hadn't begun to dissect Price in the way König imagined he intended to.

Truth be told, König is getting bored.

He attends these sessions not to witness Price's suffering, but because it's Horangi's words that needle in the back of his mind, itching at him and leaving him searching for something more.

"You haven't thought about it? That she and O'Conor seem to know more than the rest of us?"

"There's something here we don't know about."

It shouldn't bother him, but it does. Leaves something uncomfortable pricking under his skin. Like poison, the treacherous and horrid doubt of his comrades slithers through his veins. Horangi’s voice seems to float unsummoned in his ears, echoing a ruinous prophecy König can’t seem to ignore. The answers he seeks seem to slip through his fingers like smoke, the scent of blood and charcoal burning through his nose.

Why was O'Conor so obsessed with the 141? What agenda motivated this drive to hunt, to kill? Why was he so intent on capturing Price alive- only to use him as the outlet for a frustration König couldn't understand?

"I think he's had enough, Sir." He offers to the commander idly, watching as Price slumps forward in his chair. The sight pulls something inside him, something sour and uncomfortable, suddenly reminded of the face he saw striving to rescue the captain even as you were hauled away into the night by your comrade. Even now König can hear the scream of pure panic, of fear at losing your captain, petrified and utterly frantic. Your voice overrides everything else for a brief moment, ringing shrilly and leaving a shuddering tinnitus in his ears.

König grimaces under the mask, trying to ignore the phantom ache in his chest.

Idly, he wonders if you'll forgive him for this.

He hasn't lifted a finger to Price, hasn't once stepped forward to strike him as O'Conor has. Yet neither has he aided the man, stepped up to his commander and intervened. To do so would raise a suspicion he cannot afford, not with Roze whispering nefariously in Declan's ear, murmuring about König's persistent distractions, his fascination with the enemy's sniper. With you.

It's too risky now to expose himself like this. Not when the job pays well and he has no way to return to the Austrian armed forces with the trail of destruction he has left behind there. Here is the only place he can exist, can feed the yawning hunger of destruction within him- the slice of flesh and the crunch of bones the only remedy for a need for carnage he struggles to feed. König is resigned to the fact he was fated to be a weapon of war, that there is no gentle epilogue for him.

Besides, he's coming to realize O'Conor wouldn't let him leave even if he ever wanted to chase a destiny unfit for a monster such as him.

"Sir." König says again as Declan seizes Price by his collar, drags him an inch off the floor, only to drop him back down again. The chair valiantly holds despite the sudden weight, but wobbles precariously for a moment before Price goes still once more, head dropping forward and lolling. He doesn't move, but König can tell from the rise and fall of his shoulder the man is still conscious.

O'Conor sighs, smears his bloody hands on his pants before turning. He doesn't look at König, doesn't even seem to notice he's there. His shoulders are coiled tight, eyes sharp, looking for all the world like a wolf poised to pounce, a deadly and inescapable predator. Again, the remnants of an age-old anger seem to simmer just below the surface, a wound that has refused to heal, has deepened and rotted, festered until it has rewritten the man himself.

The commander drags a chair from the corner of the room, the metal scraping sinister against the concrete floor as he brings it to face before Price. He settles backwards in it, heaves a sigh as his arms prop against the back of the seat, regarding his captive.

"Well John." O'Conor speaks after the heavy, oppressive silence that follows. "I suppose we should talk about the elephant in the room then."

König narrows his stare at the commander, tilting his head and regarding the Irishman. There's a tone of familiarity to his words he doesn't fully understand, a thread that needs to be pulled to reveal the red dyed sinew of it.

If Price hears O'Conor, he gives no indication. He remains still, silent, offers no response except the steady rise of his shoulders and his shuddering exhales that shake free of his injured chest.

Declan gives the man a moment before he speaks again.

"You were there, weren't you John?" He asks, quieter now, harder. His voice a low, ominous warning. "In Mozambique, when we were sent into the viper's nest. You were on the other team."

That seems to do something to Price, because the captain's lips tighten into a thin, bloody line, as if he's convincing himself to not speak.

"We were sent to infiltrate the compound of a terrorist leader. Capture him alive at all costs. Two teams. Two helis. Isn't that right, captain?"

It's subtle, but König sees it, the way Price's shoulders just barely deflate, the smallest indication of the words O'Conor speaks are true. König is fascinated by it, finds his eyes tracing a rivulet of scarlet that drips down onto the floor from a cut along the captain's jaw. He doesn't know this mission O'Conor speaks of, but he can begin to understand the vague picture of it, the hazy strangeness of it becoming clearer as Declan speaks again.

Two brothers, comrades in arms. A common oath. Bad intel. A mission gone wrong, and in the aftermath of devastation- a man left behind. A deceit so raw and rotten it managed to change him forever.

"We didn't know that there were armed turrets at the compound. How could we have known? It's not as if there were sat images given to us beforehand. Right, Johnathan?"

A tick. A tiny one in Price's jaw, there and gone before König could fully glimpse it.

"Though I suppose we did know, didn't we?" O'Conor continues, years of anger, of putrid hatred scraping hard against the inside of his throat. "Or...you knew, captain."

He spits the word like it offends him, as if Price's title is a personal affront. It elicits the smallest of reactions from Price, a tightening on his shoulders, an unsteady breath through his broken nose.

O'Conor listens to it, leans forward in his chair and turns Price's bloodied, bruised face to look him in the eyes. Price doesn't flinch, doesn't blink, and König feels something akin to respect at the unflinching, unwavering determination in the captain's blue-eyed stare.

"Who made the call?" Declan asks, voice fatally low, a whisper of imminent lethality.

It's a threat, thinly veiled, a lurking shadow that falls with ominous silence over the room. Yet Price remains entirely unaffected, silent, scowling at his captor. König blinks idly at the expression on the captain's face, noting that even though Price does not speak, the untamed fury in his eyes remains ever clear. A blazing rage that even in silence seems to simmer under König's skin, remind him of the lives this man has taken, the brutality of which he is capable of.

If it unsettles O'Conor to see, he doesn't give any indication. Instead, he exhales through his nose, sits back in his chair a bit, studying the captain.

"I should have known you wouldn't crack so easily." Declan declares, and there's a sudden tint of respect in his voice, and admiration at Price's resolve. Yet then his eyes slide over to König's form, and under the mask König allows himself to frown at the sudden keenness in his commander's gaze.

"I guess we'll have to start using alternative methods so we can have the conversation we want." He says cryptically, his eyes never leaving König's, a piercing stare that suddenly has the Austrian's skin rippling with awareness.

Declan removes his touch from Price, and there’s a moment where König notices a flutter of relief in the man’s eyes. He watches the Irishman turn for a moment, sitting upright in his chair before he looks at König.

König nearly flinches under his stare, feeling a disconcerted uncertainty at the meaningfulness in his commander’s gaze, a message he doesn’t yet understand. The words there whisper an ominous warning, a cryptic clarion of danger he can’t decipher.

"Maybe we'll have to ask that corporal of yours." O'Conor states then, turning back to Price, and that manages to elicit a reaction from the captain, whose head rises and his eyes focus on O'Conor with the briefest flicker of shock.

Declan catches it though, and König sees the sudden light of sadism that passes over the commander's gaze just as confusion fills his own chest.

"That's right, John." He rumbles, voice dipping low, a smile creeping across his face. "You probably don't remember, but we caught that little sniper of yours too. She's a feisty thing, isn't she?"

König resists the urge to shift uncomfortably where he stands, lips pursing under the hood. It's a lie, the idea that KorTac has you in custody, but Price doesn't know that. He was unconscious by the time you escaped, his memories likely a vague haze of fire and destruction and a voice screaming out his name. He doesn't know that you're safe, that the man in the corner had let you go, released you in a moment of pure choice, knowing he was sparing you from the same fate Price faced now.

The thought that even now you could be in another room, restrained, beaten, bloody in the way Price is...

König clenches his fist in the crook of his elbow, forces himself to steady, ignoring the sudden flash of rage that alights within his veins.

"You're lying." Price says then, and König's eyes shoot up to fully regard the captain, who stares not at Declan, but at König. "You don't have her."

König feels something akin to relief then, knowing Price won't fall for this farce, that even now you can't be weaponized against him. It's a strange reaction, this sudden sympathy for his enemy, and König's brow furrows as he considers it, tries to suppress the need to look at Price in pity.

"Are you sure, captain?" Declan asks then, and he wrenches Price's gaze back to him, only for the captain to grimace at the touch fisting his short hair. Yet he doesn’t return Declan’s stare as he did before, full of fire and brimstone and ruin. Now it feels strangely uncertain, and if König stares at him long enough, he thinks he can almost see something akin to despair flicker behind the captain’s eyes.

"Maybe I could have my subordinate here bring her in for a show.” Declan goes on, and there’s a near waver to his voice, like a child that is trying to contain his own inexhaustible excitement. “He's been having quite a lot of fun with her, after all."

There's a moment where König processes the words the commander has just spoken, body rigid, eyes wide, entirely still.

Price snarls.

"You keep your filthy fucking hands off my sniper!" He grates then, throat thick with blood as he thrashes in his restraints. The insinuation is not unlost on him, and now that fury in his eyes has risen to the point of something feral, something primal at the thought of his enemies defiling one of his team in such a way.

Revulsion rises in König's chest, wet and sickly, and for a moment he suppresses the urge to gag at what O'Conor has suggested. Yet Declan's eyes are now turned to König with an unblinking, smirking stare, as if the man seems to know what he's doing, knows the reaction he wrenches from the Austrian.

It doesn’t make sense, this sudden sadism directed not at his enemy, but at his own soldier, his comrade. The confusion and disgust of it roils inside König’s chest as he tries to understand, tries to decipher the look in his eyes, the meaning behind his stare-

Then, in a single instant, the air and the warm, damp air in König’s lungs seems to suck into a void-less vacuum, a dark and repulsive dread rising to take its place.

He knows.

He knows about König's fascination with this enemy sniper of which he speaks, knows how you dance in his thoughts- untouchable, magnificent, a creature he wants desperately to touch to know it was real. Like the strange mythical creatures in his childhood fairytales, König watches you from a distance and wishes he could somehow capture you, and yet knows the beauty of you is that you remain just out of reach, a desperate wish he can never have.

And Declan knows. He knows the lengths König has gone to in order to get the barest glimpse of you, seems to know the confines of his heart through his piercing stare, the whisper of Roze in his ear.

"You." Price suddenly growls, and König flinches at the sudden rise of Price's voice that cracks like broken bones in the silence of the dark basement. The captain's eyes have landed on him now, focused their scopes on the massive figure laying dormant in the shadows.

"I know what you did to her, you bloody bastard."

Price’s voice cuts through König, sharper than any blade and serrated as it slices against his exposed form. The raw, vulnerable center of him, drawn forth by the horror of his epiphany, thumps deafening in his chest. Yet it’s the insinuation of Price’s words that have him recoil in revulsion, the accusation unspoken and yet dangerously clear. If O'Connor's stare has flayed open the bleeding center of him, it’s Price’s words that have landed a fatal blow, driving a jagged sword straight through his festering soul.

“I’ll KILL YOU!!” Price suddenly bellows, thrashing in his restraints with such severity König thinks they might somehow snap and set the man free.

There's a moment where König almost has the urge to press himself against the wall further away from the captain lest he somehow free himself. If the way he nearly suffocated Aksel was any indication, König doubts that size alone will be of any benefit if he ever had to face the captain.

Yet it's not that, but the dripping, sneering ichor of Price's words that have König shrinking backwards into himself at the captain's accusation. That he had...touched Maus, had tainted her in such a way, robbed her of her own autonomy in a way that makes his stomach lurch with utter disgust.

I didn't. He wants to say, wants to plead. I never would hurt Maus like that, or anyone, I'd-

Yet then König's eyes flicker to O'Conor, realizing the emotions painted clear across his eyes, and he flinches at the change in the commander's stare. Gone now is the sly, smirking sadism in the man's eyes, a dark pleasure at Price's fury. Instead, there's a warning, a threat in his gaze that ruminates with consequences, dire implications at König's treacherous thoughts.

Don't speak. It seems to say. Say nothing.

This is your punishment for straying away from your duty.

Traitor.

A dark, uncertain void fills König's chest, the air suddenly stale, his own doubts cracking at the frame of his body, pushing outwards from his chest. Price snarls again, a threat, but one that König doesn't fear as much as the commander's dark, warning stare that seems to seize him and drag him downwards into that pool of ichor that puddles at his feet. He sinks into it, thrashes at the tar that binds him as he descends, fury swallowed by a franticness that has him somehow reaching for you within his mind, if only to drag you down with him.

The panic of his carefully guarded lies, of being accused of something so rotten by the one you respect so much, makes bile rise sharply in his throat, and without a word König pushes off the wall, turns and throws the door open to the room before storming away in disgust. Price’s voice echoes after him, thunderous and utterly furious, a promise of a slow, painful death should the man ever be set upon him. König can hardly blame him, not with the things he must believe, the murderous contempt he must harbor for him.

Yet there’s nothing König can do to try and defend himself, not with O’Conor’s watchful stare, his finger on the trigger to destroy the Austrian if he so wished.

He’s such a fool.

A fool for allowing himself to be exposed like this, for letting himself be obvious, rendering him helpless against the truth. Yet more than that he’s a fool for allowing himself to be mystified, entranced by the one thing he could not have, for daring to believe in fairytales from his youth, for reaching for you despite himself.

Now the world around him begins to shatter at the seams, and there’s no doubt in his mind O’Conor will take the barest hint of weakness and pull on it until König becomes unraveled at the seams by his secrets.

There’s a thought then, dark and looming like a thundercloud over green pastures. If Declan knows, he knows now König’s weakness, knows how to use it against him, how to restrain and muzzle him like an animal lest he be allowed to roam free in search of you.

Caged.

A dangerous, wild thing that can’t be tamed. Only killed.

The hallways blur around König as he paces in a mindless fury through them, cursing under his breath, caught in a web of his own design. The familiar ache of regret, of self-hatred bristles and growls inside him, snapping at the fraught sinew of his soul. It’s too much, and the one place König knows to retreat is occupied by the last man he wants to see. The fabric of his hood itches at his face, the air feels too warm, his skin feels like it’s blistering-

He rounds a corner, his boots thundering on the floors, and there’s a smaller figure that doesn’t recoil from his massive stature but instead launches forward. There’s a glint of metal in their hand, and König reacts on pure reflex, massive hands outstretched as he grapples with the smaller person, a grunt of effort escaping him as they thrash, plant a vicious kick to his knee that briefly has him stumble. Yet one hand manages to ensnare the wrist holding the blade, and König hoists it high, throwing them off balance.

The smaller figure backpedals as König pushes forward, and he snarls when their back hits the wall, leaving no room for them to retreat.

There’s a moment where König towers over his attacker, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with a feral exertion summoned only by his anger. The person under him seems to freeze upon recognizing the fury stored inside him, and their eyes dart up towards his own- shocked, fearful, bright, and-

König freezes, the hot, searing rush of anger in his blood cooling so quickly it forces the air from his chest.

“You.” He whispers, slightly breathless, voice still rough but now full of wonder.

“…Maus?”

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#König #könig x oc #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #reader insert #x reader #fic: little mouse #cod #cod mw22 #cod konig

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