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sincerelyneo · 4 hours

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could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt.

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper.

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.

“Mark…”

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

#🏷frompaige #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct oneshot

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 day

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Church Girl, Don't Hurt Nobody Part 2 (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: The time has now come for you to confront your mother about your relationship with Jack. Your mind is already made up, and the last thing that you would ever do is ruin your happiness. It doesn't go as planned, and you are left with a lot to think about.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1 first

Requested by: so many of you lol so I had to run it back

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You currently had both of your legs on your boyfriend's shoulders as his face was between your thighs with the sunlight peeking through the floor length windows.

This had been going on for close to a week since you were hiding out from your parents for as long as you could. You knew that you were going to have to face them sooner or later, but later was beginning to sound better and better.

After Jack had found out from his friends the truth about you as well as your family, he was obviously upset, but could understand from your point of view why you did it once you had explained everything to him and had a few days to think about. He was lowkey still upset about it, but didn’t want to let you see it since now everything was out in the open and he knew your mind was on overdrive. He had lost track of how many times you had cried about it.

You were scared shitless of what was about to happen when you went home and was putting it off for as long as you could. Of course that night even though Jack was clearly upset with you, he wanted for you to stay with him. In the back of his mind, even though he initially said that he was probably going to break up with you because you lied to him, he quickly changed his mind after hearing your explanation and the bottom line was he didn't want to be without you.

Your phone had been going off nonstop since the picture was posted and you hadn’t answered anyone. You were actually surprised that not once did your mother call you and you knew that she was pissed. But at this point, should you even care what she thought about you? Your fate was sealed anyway.

After the picture was posted the two of you were sitting across from each other in silence. You knew he was mad at you and you were trying to create a plan in your head for the both of you to get through this with no harm done, but you were coming up short.

You were always so careful when going out at night and the one time you weren't, someone snapped a photo of you.

Wanting to give your boyfriend some space (if he was still your boyfriend at that point for that matter since you didn't know) you didn’t even say anything and had gotten up to start making your way to the door but as you went to open it, you saw Jack's hand come from behind you to close it.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked from behind you and when you didn't answer him, he turned you around to face him with tears in your eyes and a trembling lip and knew they were about to fall down.

"I… just… you're my escape and my peace from everything that goes on around me and it's just why can I never do anything for myself? Why can't I do what I want? I am 27 years old, still sneaking out of my parents house to see my boyfriend. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I should have been honest from the beginning and I'm sorry for that.”

"Dragging me into what? I don't regret asking you to be my girlfriend so don't you think that for a second."

He wanted to be with you for the long haul and this was just something that the two of you had to face together. He was going to do his best to protect you to the best of his ability from the world and also your parents.

“Talk to me in a week and we'll see if you feel the same way.”

“The way I feel about you isn't going to go away in a week so I know that my answer is going to be the same.”

“I don't even know where to begin to fix this.”

“Let me ask you this. What exactly needs to be fixed? We're together like we want to be aren’t we? So what's the problem? You know that they already don't approve so fuck it.”

—

"Damn, baby it's like Niagara Falls down here." Jack said as he looked down at his fingers.

"You want a side of eggs with that?"

"HUH?"

"Pussy juice, side of eggs, that's my breakfast." You said while repeating Jack's lyrics to him and giggling.

All Jack did was smirk and laugh at you.

"Nah, I don't need the eggs. This is enough to get me full." Jack said as he grabbed your legs to pull you towards the end of the bed and you let out a yelp.

Jack then leaned down to kiss you and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to give him several more. When he finally pulled away, he began to place kisses all over your face making you laugh.

Next thing you knew, you felt him slide into you and you immediately gasped since you had been caught off guard.

He was going at a slow, even pace taking his time to give you as much pleasure as possible to take your mind off of everything going on around you.

You then wrapped your left leg around him wanting for him to get as deep as he possibly could.

You were now laying on Jack's chest as his arm was wrapped around you in a comfortable silence and Jack was the one to break it.

"Baby, as much as I want to, we can't hide out in my condo forever. I have to promote this album and I've already done what I could to push it back for a week to make sure you were okay.”

"I know and I appreciate you for doing that for me because you definitely didn't have to. I'm not okay in the slightest, but I know that I just have to deal.”

"I would do anything for you. You know that. And I'm going to make sure you get to the point where you are okay." Jack replied as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I just… don't want to face them. My mother more than anyone else."

"I don't like how she has it where you're actually scared of her."

“I… it's not the fact that I'm scared of her. I just know that no matter how perfect I try to be, that it will never please her and that I'm always going to fall short. All of my siblings don't care for me either except my big sister Eden. Because I'm the only one that will somewhat challenge my parents. It's always been this way.”

“Just know that I only want the best for you and want you to be happy. You deserve that and not be stressed out all the time over what someone else might think about you.”

“I know.” You quietly answered, but your mind was still running a mile a minute.

“You think that you'll be okay when I leave later tonight? I'd rather you come with me. I just don't want to leave you here with them.”

“I don't really have a choice. I have to face them sooner or later. Even if I don't want to.”

“Look if anything happens, anything at all. Say the word and I'll come and get you.” Jack said as he moved a curl out of your face and lightly kissed your nose.

“You're going to be busy and the last thing I want to be is a distraction.”

“Baby, I can promise that you won't be. I would rather have you with me instead of people who upset you on a daily basis. Because how is that a good thing? You don't need to be in that type of environment.” Jack replied as he started playing with the bracelet that graced your wrist that he gifted you.

“She's probably never going to let me sing again.” You quietly said as you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Why do you need her permission to do it? Just because she might not want you to sing there, doesn't mean you have to stop altogether. Still not over how amazing your voice is and how well you hid that from me.”

“Trust me, it wasn't easy.” You said while laughing.

“No more secrets. Promise?”

“Promise.”

After you had helped Jack pack all of his things and the two of you decided to have a quick dinner together, it was time for you to make your way back home as much as you didn't want to while Jack was set to go to New York.

He had given you several kisses, but you were still holding onto him for dear life not wanting to let him go just yet.

“You know you can come with me. The offer still stands. Because now you are definitely stalling.” He said while looking down at you. Jack knew your mind was made up, but he didn't want you going back there at all. If your mom is as bad as you had told him, he wanted to keep you far away from her.

“As much as I want to, I have to do this. I don't want to drag it out longer.”

“Tell me when you get there and what happens when you two talk. I just have a strong feeling that you are about to call me in tears and that is the last thing that I want. If I have to protect you from your own family, then so be it.”

“It might go better than we think.” You said trying to reassure him.

“Babe, are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Hmm, maybe both? But I promise to call if something happens.”

Wearing one of Jack's hoodies and a pair of your black leggings, it was around 10 at night once you had slipped through the entrance to your part of the house.

Once in your bedroom, you turned on the light to see your big sister Eden once again staring at you.

“For future reference, if you are trying to hide out with your boyfriend, turn off your location. Even though you only share it with me.”

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me, Eden!”

“Not a chance. I let you have your fun but now I'm about to yell but this is only out of love and concern.”

You simply nodded as you took a seat next to her on your bed.

“Now you know you can tell me anything and I will never hold it against you. Being in this family is hard enough and you are my baby sister. If you would have come to me, I would have helped you to tell them.”

“I… so many times I wanted to. But I was just scared. He's really important to me and I didn't want anyone or anything to ruin it. Not that I think you would, but everyone else. What did they say when they found out?”

“That was the first time I actually heard your mother cuss if that explains anything. And she was on Google looking him up for about two hours.” Eden replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“And dad?”

“He simply shrugged and said if she's happy, then I'm fine with it.”

“I figured that he would be the one to say that.”

“And she was also upset that you have been M.I.A. obviously.”

“Why does she need to know my every move? She needs to get over herself.”

“You let me know when that happens. Anyway, tell me EVERYTHING. He's really cute and I'm definitely not surprised you two are together. A good match if I do say so myself.”

“Well we met at Taylor's birthday party a while ago and we've been talking ever since. It was only recently that he asked me to be his girlfriend. I've already met his parents and his brother and I absolutely adore them. His friends I only met at the album release party, but so far so good. He's funny, sweet, caring, always putting my feelings into consideration and I just love being around him. I know that you and dad would like him. I really don't care about anyone else.”

“And you shouldn't. He makes you happy and that's the important part and all that matters. As long as he is treating you right, we won't have a problem. Now did you even tell him about…?”

“No, he didn't know and I believe his friends told him and explained it to him which he was mad about and I can understand that. I wasn't honest and I should have been. He forgave me and we're just moving forward. I told him everything including how I know she hates me.”

“I can only imagine the look on his face. And I don't think she hates you. She hates that she can't control you.”

“Yeah, and then the picture didn't help.”

“Did anyone else know about you two? Perhaps, Tania?” Eden asked while eyeing you.

“Yes and she was sworn to secrecy. Just her and no one else.”

“Soooo, when can I meet him?”

“Well he's going to be busy promoting his album, but I'm sure if I bring it up he'll make time for it. I talk to him about you all the time.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you this happy and I hope the two of you stay together for the long haul.”

As Jack was sitting on the plane and playing with his phone, Urban came and sat next to him and simply eyed him.

“Uh, Urb? Can I help you?” Jack asked as he laughed.

“Are you and Y/N okay? Did she talk to her parents yet?”

“We're fine but not yet. She said she would tell me when it happened. I already told her that I feel like she's going to call me in tears. I wanted her to come with me but she said that she just wanted to get it over with.”

“I hope she'll be okay. It seems like she's never been able to do what she wants.”

“She hasn't. But Neelam told us both not to say anything about it for now hoping that it would eventually blow over. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her in Louisville, but her mind was made up.”

“If her mother is as bad as she claims her to be, I know that this conversation that they are supposed to have is not going to go over well.”

“I'm literally just waiting for her to call me.”

“I wonder what they'll even say to her, I mean she's a whole adult.”

“And from the way that she talks about her, that clearly doesn't matter. She still looks at her like she's a little kid and it doesn't help that she's the youngest either.” Jack replied while shaking his head.

“I know she means a lot to you from the way that you talk about her.”

“She does, I'm just trying to let her see that it's okay to do what makes you happy and to not care what anyone else thinks about it.”

—

You and Eden hid out in your room until the next morning when you figured that it was time to face her. After taking a shower, you slipped on a yellow sundress along with white wedge sandals and straightened your hair. It was time for breakfast, so you started making your way towards the dining room.

Once you entered the room, all eyes were on you as you took your respective seat in between Eden and Grace. Eden sent you a soft smile while Grace rolled her eyes at you. Matthew and Malachi simply exchanged glances with each other along with their spouses as your mother was burning a hole into you with her gaze. Your dad was simply reading his morning paper as he always did and sent you a small smile. You knew when it came down to it, the only people that you could truly count on in your family was your dad and Eden.

As the breakfast spread was placed on the table, your mother was the first to speak.

“Y/N, you have some nerve showing back up here like you didn't do anything.”

“I haven't done anything wrong and the last time I checked, I lived here.” You responded while piling your plate high with eggs, hash browns, and fruit.

“You call a night on the town with a well known rapper nothing? Where people saw the two of you together?”

“Adalaide….” Your father said to your mother in a warning tone, but she simply brushed him off.

“When you leave this house, you are representing this family, and so far this week, you have been nothing but an embarrassment.”

“That's your opinion and you're entitled to it. I am a grown woman who can do anything she wants and I don't need your approval. I have been under your thumb since the day I was born and have been in control of how I dress, who I talk to, my hair, my makeup, and my career path. It's time that I take control of my life without having you criticizing me.”

"No daughter of mine is going to serve the Lord and then be spreading her legs wide open for her rapper boyfriend. And don't even lie and say that you haven't. You look like the type to give it up to any man who ever glanced your way. And of course you think he loves you because he's told you exactly what you want to hear!"

“MOM!” Eden exclaimed while looking at her in disbelief but all she did was take a sip of her tea.

"You don't even know him!"

"I know enough and I don't care to have you in my sight any longer. It's clear that you have chosen him over your family. So do me a favor and get out. Leave your house key on the table in the foyer. If he loves you so much as you claim he does, go live with him. And I for damn sure better not see you at my church singing for the Lord on Sunday."

“Adalaide, that's enough! If that's who she loves, who are we to stop it? We want all of our children happy and he obviously makes her happy." Your dad said while shaking his head at her.

“Then she can go and be happy with him and not be under my roof taking up space.”

“Now that's taking it a little too far.” You heard Grace say which you were surprised by.

“She's literally not hurting anyone and always did what you wanted her to do. Why are you ruining the one thing she's done for herself?” Your oldest brother Malachi asked and she rolled her eyes.

“What I said still stands. I want her out and if all of you have a problem with it, you can go and follow her. You better be out of my house by midnight and don't bother showing your face here or at church ever again. As far as I'm concerned, I only have two daughters now.”

A collective gasp was heard at the table, and all you could do was laugh to yourself before saying anything.

“Y/N, don't you get up from this table. You are a part of this family as much as anyone else.”

“It's okay, dad. Trust me, it is. I know how she feels about me.”

“This is entirely uncalled for.” Matthew said while looking at your mother who waa unfazed. You simply turned towards her before speaking.

“Keep in mind what you just told me and don't you dare crawl back to me later and try to apologize. If you want me out, fine. The next time I see you will be at your fucking funeral and not a moment sooner. I'll prove to you that I never needed someone like you in my life to begin with.”

“Y/N!” Grace called after you as you pushed yourself away from the table and made your way into the direction of your room.

You held your head high and was determined not to let the tears fall. You finally stood up to her and didn't regret saying what was on your mind.

Grabbing your phone, you facetimed Jack who immediately answered and could tell that something was wrong from the look on your face.

“Baby….”

“She literally just disowned me.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction

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hwanchaesong · 12 hours

Text

Chatoyant (Soulmate) Preview

pairing: Jay X F!Reader

synopsis: You've never believed in the braided vermillion strings that are supposedly tied in your pinky, where the other end is where you'll find your beloved. Not until you're standing in the middle of a story ridden room.

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You listened to Jay, your class representative, in boredom as he lists the do's and don'ts for your next destination. Apparently, it's some kind of history museum where millions of stories are etched on the items that are displayed there.

Certainly picked your interest, but not enough to make you excited.

"I want to go to the amusement park instead." your friend Sunghoon, who was sitting next to you muttered, to which you agreed to an extent, but hey, this is your country's archive, might as well enjoy it while you can.

You groaned and stretched your back when you got off the bus, a chuckle caught your attention so you turned with a frown, catching Jay red-handed on his attempt to cover up his amusement.

"You think this is funny? My back aching is worth the lols?" you asked in disbelief, making small talk with the man.

"You acting like an old woman is funny." he corrects, patting your shoulder in a casual manner, "Come on, let's get inside. It's too hot here."

He trudged towards the museum, leaving you there with your thoughts for a moment.

The touch felt like a zing, it's always been like that. Conversing with him was easy as a pie, skinship was rare but when it did happen, it's pure electricity. Although, you may put this in the 'I admire you type of crush' instead of overthinking things.

You shrugged, entering the building and occupying yourself with the exhibit.

It was nice, finding some statues or swords cool. Jake triggers your ijbolitis when he starts lecturing you and Sunghoon about the legend of whatever sculpture it was that caught his attention. (you have to admit, he's an adorable nerd)

Sunghoon begged you to stay, but you blew him a kiss and left him with the aussie, opting to enter a room that you haven't explored yet.

When you step foot inside though, a gush of air suddenly hits you. Which was weird, to say the least, since there are no open windows around, surely the place is airconditioned.

You sighed, brushing it off and sauntering towards the small bulletin, there you learned that the room is full of trinkets between two lovers, torned apart by the war.

A story of an empress and her general.

Then, time seemed to stop when you finally set your eyes on the largest painting hanging by the wall.

You felt a pang in your heart, especially when you saw the letters that they had exchanged. The clothes, jewelry, all of their personal belongings felt so... intimate.

It was uncanny and you dumbly stood there, thinking and staring at the art because it looks exactly like-

"It's like I'm looking right into a mirror."

A familiar voice suddenly spoke from behind and you gasped, losing your balance when you accidentally twisted your ankle in surprise, but fear not, your knight in shining armor dramatically caught you.

"Woah there," Jay peered at you with concern, "Are you okay?"

Will it be a bad decision on your part if you say that this is more than okay?

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 2 days

Note

Alright, and here's request #2

May I ask for Fives and Fox

with Prompt 14: Last Words

Where Fives is haunting Fox after his death. Where "the nightmares are over" is twisted to "the nightmare has just begun".

Girl, you helped me come up with this, you know what to write, lol

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

In Your Head

Fox

Summary: Fox has a hole in his memory that he can't seem to fix, and when he starts hallucinating about the clone he killed, it leads to dire consequences.

Pairing: none

Characters: Fox, Thorn, ghost!Fives

Tags & Warnings: character death, alcohol, drunkenness, hallucinations, paranoia, minor suicidal ideation, violence, whump

Word Count: 6.2k

Author's Note: First of all, I'm going to apologize for how long it's taken me to write one of these requests. Second, all of the requests are still sitting in my ask box. I haven't gotten rid of any of them and I still plan on writing all of them. It's just gonna take me a bit. To be honest, this fic is more Fox whump than Fives whump, but eh, it's still whump and it still includes one of the 501st boys, so that counts, right? As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

Fox sits hunched over his desk and anxiously raps his stylus against the side of his data-pad. He's read the report five times now and each pass yields the same results. His CC number is littered throughout the paragraphs, but for the life of him, he can't remember any of it. He looks up at the chronometer again and shakes his head. Time has moved, but he hasn't. He's been sitting here at his desk doing flimsi-work since early morning, but the report states otherwise.

It's not just the strange lost time that concerns Fox either, or the fact that his CC number is in a report. That's normal. What bothers him about this report is the fact that it clearly states in paragraph four, line six, that he shot and killed a clone. And no matter how hard he racks his brain, he can't remember it. He hasn't moved from his desk, and yet, the timestamp puts the incident at an hour ago. An hour ago he was at his desk. An hour ago he was doing flimsi-work.

Fox raps his stylus faster and taps his foot to match the rhythm, the nervous energy in his body escaping through the repetitive movements. He wouldn't shoot a clone without a reason, would he? The Coruscant Guard has stunned countless rowdy and reckless, and even dangerous clones, but a brother doesn't shoot another brother with the intent to kill. That's not part of their culture. Even bad clones deserve to explain their actions, but those are few and far between.

It must be a mistake. A typo. There has to be a logical explanation as to why his CC number is in the report even though he wasn't there. Still, he has this odd sinking feeling scratching at the back of his mind that it might not be a mistake. The clone he allegedly shot was from the 501st, from Torrent Company. One of Rex's men. Fox sent a simple comm message to Rex, offering his condolence, but Rex's silence worries him. It's not like Rex to leave a comm unanswered.

Fox drops the data-pad onto his desk with a loud clack and his chair creaks when he leans back. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and brushes the damp curls out of his eyes. It must be a mistake. There is no other explanation. He doesn't have an explanation for the lost time, but there must be a reason for that as well. Maybe he fell asleep. It's not impossible since he doesn't get the best sleep. His caf is cold, so obviously time has passed since he last filled it.

The data-pad dings and Fox leans forward to see what the notification is for. He sighs and taps on the icon to open it, and his brows furrow as he reads the new information. A surveillance holo-recording of the incident is now available and has been attached to the report. Fox huffs. This should clear up everything. He taps the icon to play the recording and watches intently. It was probably some trigger-happy shiny that he'll have a stern talking to later on… but it's not.

Fox's breath hitches and his eyes widen. That's not some random corrie. That's him. That's his armor. He has the fleeting thought that someone stole his armor and impersonated him, but he quickly realizes he's still wearing it. He hasn't taken it off since he put it on this morning. Panic rises in his gut and he continues to watch the recording. He flinches at the moment he pulls the trigger. A blaster bolt leaving the barrel instead of a stun bolt. He killed him. He killed a brother.

That explains why Rex never commed him back. Rex's emotional plea, Fox don't, stabs him in the heart, turning his innocent condolence message into him just rubbing salt into an egregious wound. The report noted the clone killed as ARC-5555 – Fives – one of Rex's best. Fox only remembers the name because Rex sent him a holo-photo of his two new ARC troopers when they graduated. Rex was so proud. Then he lost one on Lola Sayu, and today, he lost the other.

Fox has seen and read enough. It was him, he knows that much, but he still doesn't remember being there. He doesn't remember aiming his blaster, or flicking the safety off, or giving a warning, or pulling the trigger. It's like he was sleep walking, even though not a single clone out of millions has ever been noted to do so on record. He finds it even more odd that he was on scene for the shooting and then left. It's not like him to leave a scene without getting statements or starting his report. Now that he thinks about it, he didn't even write this report. Who did?

Fox yells in frustration and kicks the leg of his desk. Why can't he remember? How could he forget he shot and killed a brother. How could he forget Rex's voice begging him not to? How could he forget leaving his office and coming back? Fox feels sick. Not only did he kill a brother, he killed one of Rex's. A beloved brother. With Rex's radio silence, he probably lost Rex too. Fox doesn't blame him. Not after watching the footage. He would hate himself too, and he does.

Fox pulls a ring of keys from his belt pouch and inserts one into the lock on the bottom desk drawer. It clicks and he pulls it open, revealing a small stash of alcohol resting against the back. The glass bottles clink as he searches for a specific one. Finding it, he pulls it out of the drawer and places it on his desk. He leans down to grab a glass, hesitates, then closes the drawer without taking it. He twists the cap off the bottle, grabs the neck, and tilts the opening to his lips.

"Fox?" Thorn whispers as he peeks into the dark office. "Are you in here?"

Fox groans in response. His torso rests on top of his desk and the side of his face lays on the cool surface with one hand loosely wrapped around an almost empty glass bottle.

Thorn sighs and shakes his head. "What are you doing, Fox?"

"Go away," Fox slurs. His body twitches at the sudden exertion.

Thorn ignores Fox's inebriated order and pulls up a chair to sit opposite Fox's desk.

"Talk to me," Thorn says.

"Nothin'... to talk about," Fox answers.

"You're drunk while on duty," Thorn says. He grabs the bottle out of Fox's loose grip and sets it out of reach. "Why don't we start with that?"

Fox slowly picks his head up to look at Thorn, and he struggles to keep it steady. "Usen'ye," he says, then lays his head back down onto the desk making the room stop spinning.

Thorn taps his fingers against the desk's surface next to Fox's head and Fox flinches at the magnified sound. "I read the report."

Fox groans, but this time with more indignation.

Thorn crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. "I've got all night."

"You're so… annoying," Fox slurs as he slowly picks his head back up to look at Thorn. "You know… that?"

Thorn smirks. "Part of my charm."

"Karking… banthas… have more charm," Fox says, his head swaying as he tries to keep it upright. "You're ugly… too."

Thorn rolls his eyes. "You're getting off topic."

"Why… are you… even here?" Fox asks. He reaches for the bottle and Thorn leans over to move it again.

"You killed a vod," Thorn says.

Fox huffs. "What... do you… know about it?"

"Nothing," Thorn says. "That's why I'm here. To talk to you about it, because clearly it's affecting you."

Fox reaches for the bottle again and Thorn moves it. "I'm… not effective."

"Yeah, I can see that," Thorn raises an eyebrow. "You can't even talk straight."

"Blow it out your… exhaust port," Fox sneers, then reaches for the bottle once more.

"Really?" Thorn asks, as he lifts the bottle up out of Fox's reach. "If I give you the bottle back, will you talk to me?"

Fox smirks through hooded eyes. "Sure."

Thorn places the bottle back down onto the desk and pushes it towards Fox. Fox grabs it, sits back in his chair, and shoots the last burning drops down his throat, then slams the empty bottle down onto the desk.

"Talk," Thorn says. "Why'd you kill a vod?"

Fox chuckles. "I don't know."

Thorn's eyes darken. "This isn't a game, Fox."

"Nah," Fox says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Games… are fun. This... This isn't..."

Thorn tilts his head to the side and studies Fox for a moment. Even drunk, Fox usually makes some sense, but this particular time he's making zero sense. It's not that hard of a question, but his avoidance in answering it is making Thorn worry. There's something Fox isn't telling him and he needs to know what it is in order to help him get out of this slump and back to normal. Having a drunk Marshall Commander leading the Coruscant Guard is going to get them nowhere fast.

"Fox," Thorn prods.

"Don't Fox me," Fox spits in response. "How'd you… like it… if I said your name? Thorn. Thorn. Thorn. Thorn–"

"Alright, I get it," Thorn interjects. "Just tell me what happened."

"I don't know," Fox lazily shrugs.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Thorn asks.

"I don't remember," Fox says.

"You don't remember shooting a vod?" Thorn asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Nope," Fox says, making a popping sound on the second consonant.

Thorn pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You have to remember something? You killed him. Don't you remember that? Were you drunk then, too?"

"No, I wasn't drunk," Fox says, his agitation growing at the continued questioning. "I just don't remember!" He pounds his fists on the desk, making Thorn flinch.

"Easy, vod," Thorns soothes and reaches out a hand to try and calm him down. "It's okay."

"No!" Fox yells with a jerk as he weakly bats Thorn's hand away. "Is not. I shot… a vod. I killed… a vod, and I can't… kriffin' remember!"

Thorn realizes he's not going to get anywhere with Fox being this drunk and worked up, so he decides to cut his losses and try again later. "Get some rest," he says before getting up from his chair. He looks down at Fox's dilapidated state, shakes his head, then turns to leave.

"Bring me… more booze," Fox demands.

Thorn turns around and scoffs. "You don't need any more of that."

Fox grabs the empty bottle and throws it towards Thorn, but it hits the wall by the door instead and shatters into a million pieces. "Shabuir," Fox snarls.

Thorn sighs. "We'll talk again when you're sober." He turns back towards the door and leaves Fox alone in his office.

Fox grumbles and lays his heavy head back down against the cool desk. He's not really angry at Thorn, as annoying as he is. No. He's angry at himself. Angry that he can't remember what his own two hands did. Angry that he can't remember where his own two feet took him. Angry that his brain won't put all of the pieces together or fill in the blanks. Where did his memory go? Did it grow legs and walk away from him? Did it leave him or did he leave it? Is that even possible?

Fox would stay laying against his desk all night if he could, but the ache in his back is beginning to overpower his drunken haze. Part of getting old, he guesses. He needs to try and make it to his couch where he can stretch out and fall asleep. At least while asleep he won't have to think about it. That was the idea behind the alcohol in the first place; drink to forget, but it didn't have the effect he was hoping for. If anything, it only made it worse. Then Thorn butted in and ruined it.

Fox tries to peel himself off of his desk, but his body is heavy. He manages to sit up, but then slumps back into his chair, whacking his head against the back of it. He groans at the pain and rubs the spot. When he opens his eyes, the room is spinning, and it makes him feel sick. Well, sicker than he already felt before he was drunk. He chuckles to himself. The good stuff was really good. He hasn't been this drunk since he was a shiny new commander hot off Kamino.

Trying again, Fox plants his hands squarely on his desk and rocks to push himself out of the chair. He tries once and can't get it. He tries twice and still can't get it. He tries thrice and finally he's on his feet, although he uses a little too much force and falls forward onto the desk. Maybe it's better if he crawls to the couch instead of walking there. He lets the weight of his lower body slide the rest of him off the desk until he's sitting on the ground and leaning against the desk.

He leans past the desk and turns his head to see where the couch is, but he leans a little too far and slumps over onto the ground. He groans. This was a terrible idea. He wishes he could get Thorn to come back and carry him to the couch, but that would bruise his ego into an irreparable state. No, he has to make it on his own. With a little wiggle of his hips, Fox rolls himself onto his stomach and crawls towards the couch. Usually, it's closer, but right now it feels klicks away.

Maker, he's tired. Why did he have to put the couch so far away from his desk? Or better yet, why can't it come to him? You'd think someone would've invented a moving couch by now, but no, the Galactic Republic is too busy making clones to do anything of real use in his lifetime. And yet, Fox continues to crawl towards his couch, cursing it every time he scoots closer. With one final push, he makes it, but accidentally bumps his head against the leg. He curses it again.

Now, it's just a matter of hoisting himself up onto the stupid thing so he can finally go to sleep. Once again, something that used to be so trivial is causing him grief. Why is it so high up? Why is the floor so far down? Why won't the room stop spinning? He wishes he could steady himself long enough to get a grip, but his body is heavy from the alcohol. However, with a little more effort and a lot more cursing, Fox grabs one of the cushions, pulls himself up, and flops onto the couch.

Thank the Maker, he finally made it. Fox rolls off of his stomach and situates himself with his back against the back of the couch so he doesn't suffocate himself within the couch cushions. Although, at this point, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. He chuckles to himself about the thought. Thorn would kill him. He would find some way into the afterlife and kill him again for being such an idiot. Although, to him, it's a comforting thought; Thorn coming after him like that.

Even if Fox hates to admit it, Thorn is still his best friend. Some days they absolutely can't stand each other, but when push comes to shove, there's no one he'd rather have his back in this war. Perks of growing up together, he figures. Fox releases a wide yawn that makes his stomach churn, but he's happy that his body wants to rest. With a few slow breaths, he lets himself drift off to sleep, wondering if he'll wake up and finally remember or if his memory will still be adrift.

Fox groans as he stirs from his sleep. He slowly opens one eye and sees that it's still dark out, which means either he slept until the next evening or he barely slept at all. He doesn't feel drunk anymore, so maybe he did sleep for a while; an absolute miracle. Even more surprising is the fact that no one bothered him while he slept, which also means Thorn kept everyone away and covered for him. The idiot. He'll need to apologize and thank Thorn the next time he sees him.

Fox carefully shifts to sit himself up, holding the side of his head as it pounds from the hangover. He hasn't had a hangover like this in a very long time. He'll have to look at the label on the bottle and get himself another one of whatever it was. Blinking a few times to get rid of the glaze over his eyes, he looks around the room, but frowns when he sees the broken glass by the door. Oh yeah. I broke it. Guess he won't be buying another one of those anytime soon. What a shame.

With a deep breath, Fox hoists himself up off the couch and grabs the arm to steady his shaky legs. He doesn't feel woozy, but his body still feels heavy, like there are rocks in his head weighing him down. He rolls his neck, then his shoulders, and then arches his back to stretch it out. One of his vertebrae makes a popping sound and he groans. Even though he tried to lie down in a good position, couch-sleep is still not as nice as a bunk. He needs some ibuprofen.

Fox hobbles his way to the refresher connected to his office, and is, once again, thankful for the amenities he has access to as the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. It would be embarrassing to walk down to the guard barrack's communal refresher to compose himself. Thorn would get a good laugh, though, the jerk. He'd say something stupid just to piss him off. But that's the game they play, because Fox has embarrassed Thorn on multiple occasions too.

Fox steps into the refresher without flipping the light switch on, and twists the faucet knob to run the water cold. He cups the rushing water in his hands and splashes it onto his face. The cool water feels good on his hot skin and soothes his throbbing headache. He does that a few more times, and then one last good splash that he smooths over his unruly curls. He pats his face with the towel and stares at himself in the mirror, except something about his reflection is… off.

Fox rubs the towel across his face again, thinking he has some water stuck in his eyes making his vision blurry, but the reflection still looks odd. He then uses the towel to wipe down the mirror, leaving small streaks of water where he swiped, but that doesn't clear it either. Refusing to play with it any longer, Fox opens the mirror cabinet and grabs the bottle of ibuprofen. He pops a few and swallows them dry, wincing as he feels them go down his throat, then closes the cabinet.

Hi Fox , a voice says.

Fox startles and stumbles back, crashing against the opposite wall with a loud thud. "Kriff, Thorn!" Fox exclaims. He turns his head towards the refresher door to rip Thorn a new one, but he's not there. "Thorn?" he calls, but there's no answer. He peeks his head out of the refresher to see if there's anyone in his office, but it's still dark and empty. It's just him. He's never had a hangover that made him hear things before… he thinks. Fox's heart races with adrenaline.

Fox , the voice says.

Fox flinches at the sound of his name, and whips his head around to try and figure out who's calling him, but there's still no one there. "Thorn," Fox says. "I swear to the Maker, I will kill you."

So, you like to kill, huh? the voice says.

Fox freezes, his blood running cold. He didn't just hear that, did he? The sound of another clone talking to him, but he's still alone in the refresher. His instincts are screaming for him to run and find Thorn, because clearly he's hallucinating, or sick, or dying, or all three at once. He shouldn't be hearing voices, or at least he doesn't think he should be hearing voices. Fox closes his eyes and takes a couple deep breaths to calm himself and just hopes that whatever it is will go away.

It's rude to ignore people, you know , the voice says. Especially dead people.

Yup, he's crazy. He's one hundred percent certified crazy now. Not only is he hearing voices, but he's hearing voices of the dead . What did he do while he was drunk and asleep? Conjure a demon? Summon a spirit? Invite a deity to chat over some caf? How did he even do that? The other option is that he's still plastered and is hallucinating being sober. Honestly, both ideas sound equally as insane, but do they really make any less sense than him hearing voices?

"Whatever you are," Fox begins with a nervous voice, "I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm going back to bed now."

Fox pushes himself off the wall and walks towards the refresher door to leave, but it slides shut before he can exit. He stares at the closed door and takes another deep breath, then releases it slowly. He slides his hands over his holsters, but the blasters are missing. They must have fallen out while he was sleeping and he didn't notice. He kicks himself for being so absentminded to leave them on the couch, but in his defense there aren't many who'd attack him in his own office.

Fox runs his tongue across his teeth and puffs his chest out before turning around to face whatever it is that's messing with him, but when he does, there's no one else in the refresher besides him. He bites his lip and nods his head. It must be a dream. He's living in a dream and he can't wake up. That has to be the answer. There's no other explanation. Once he wakes up, he's going to find Thorn and make him get rid of all of his liquor, because this isn't worth the trip.

I'm still waiting , the voice says impatiently. Are you gonna answer me or not?

Fox grits his teeth and thinks for a moment. If he answers the voice of the dead, is something bad going to happen to him? It's not like his life could get any worse. He's a dog of the Republic, he's shot and killed a brother, and he's probably the most hated commander in the GAR. There's not much else they can do to him. Fox startles at a sudden realization. The voice of the dead… a dead clone. Voice of the dead… killed. Fox's heartbeat pounds ferociously in his ears.

He takes a few steps towards the sink and peers into the mirror, the same mirror where his reflection didn't look right. He was so groggy when he first came in the refresher that it didn't dawn on him what in the reflection was off, just that it didn't look right. He stares at his reflection, and tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he studies the image, but his eyes grow wide when he realizes that the reflection didn't follow the tilt of his head. He moves in closer.

Boo , the reflection says with a smirk.

"Kriffin' osik!" Fox screams and out of reflex he punches the mirror, cracking it. He heaves in his breaths and pulls his fist back from the mirror, his glove protecting his skin from getting cut by the broken shards.

The reflection sighs and side steps into the part of the mirror that isn't as broken. Really? the reflection asks.

Fox is on the verge of hyperventilating. Fear and adrenaline taking control of every muscle in his body. His reflection is talking to him. It's moving without him. But it's not even him. He can clearly see that now. Fox takes a moment to study the image in the mirror. The armor is white, like a shiny's, their head is shaven, they have a goatee, and an Aurebesh tattoo on their right temple not far from a small linear scar. Fox's jaw drops. It's him. It's the clone he shot and killed.

Figure it out yet? the reflection asks, almost bored.

"You're…" Fox tries to speak, but he's still unsure of what he's actually seeing.

The name's Fives , the reflection says while tapping his Aurebesh tattoo. You should remember, since you killed me.

Fox is speechless and wide-eyed. He feels sick to his stomach. He knows who Fives is, but he still doesn't remember shooting him. He's never met him, and the only images he has are of him in his ARC armor, not whatever it is he's wearing now. Fox thinks back to the recording that was attached to the report, and remembers seeing himself shoot the white-armored clone. He did find it strange at the time, and it made him wonder why, but not enough to hallucinate about him.

"This isn't real," Fox says as he backs away from the mirror. "You're not real! You're dead !"

The reflection snorts. What? No remorse? No, sorry I killed you?

"I don't remember killing you!" Fox yells, half in shock and half in self-defense. His back touches the hard durasteel wall and he slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.

Don't remember? the reflection asks. You shot me! How could you forget that?

Fox pulls his knees to his chest, clasps his hands over his ears, and squeezes his eyes shut. "Just leave me alone!" he yells again, trying to make the voice go away. "I said I don't remember!"

I'm not leaving , the voice says. Not until you remember what you did to me.

"Go away!" Fox practically screams. "Leave me alone!" His breathing becomes labored and he feels like he's going to pass out. "This is… a nightmare."

Oh, Fox , the reflection chuckles, then pushes out of the mirror and folds its arms to lean on the edge of the sink and stare down at Fox. Your nightmare has just begun.

The next rotation has Fox feeling insane. The voice inside the mirror isn't just a voice anymore. It's a full body apparition that follows him around wherever he goes. He can't even take a piss without that thing watching him. He still wonders if it's the actual Fives or if it's just a figment of his imagination; maybe the subconscious part of his brain conjured it up because of the guilt he feels for killing the clone. He wants to tell Thorn about it, but even Thorn has limits on disbelief.

Hour after hour, the apparition asks if he remembers killing it yet, and hour after hour, Fox still has the same answer – no. Maker, he wishes it would just take a hike and go haunt someone else, even if it's just for a couple of minutes. There's nothing worse than trying to work or sleep while it watches him from across the room with its dark, cold, dead eyes and smug expression. If this is the real Fives, then he doesn't understand why Rex liked him so much.

Although, today has been strangely quiet. The apparition is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and Fox is taking the much needed alone time to catch up on the reports he's been neglecting since it first appeared. It must have been a figment of his imagination brought on by stress or something along those lines. There's always a logical explanation for everything, or so he thinks. Fox looks up from his data-pad when he hears a soft knock on his office door frame.

"I brought you some caf," Thorn says with a friendly smile. "Can I come in?"

Fox nods.

Thorn walks into the office, places the cup down in front of Fox, and sits on the corner of his desk.

Fox grabs the cup of hot, black caf and deeply inhales its alluring aroma. "Is this a peace offering?"

Thorn snorts. "You should be bringing me a peace offering for all that name calling."

Fox winces at the vague memory, then takes a sip. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Thorn says. "You're still a di'kut, though."

"So are you," Fox smirks.

Is he a friend of yours? the apparition asks as it appears next to Fox.

Fox startles and accidentally drops the cup of caf onto his lap. "Kriff!"

Thorn also startles and jumps off the corner of Fox's desk. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Fox sighs. "Just grab me a towel, will ya?"

Thorn walks off towards the refresher to grab a towel.

He seems like a nice vod , the apparition says as it watches Thorn with interest. Is he your best friend?

Fox chooses to ignore the question and the ghost.

You know , the apparition continues. It hops up on the desk to sit in front of Fox, its legs dangling over the edge. I had a best friend once – actually two. They're both dead, now… Like me. Must be nice to have yours still alive, huh?

Fox glares at the apparition and snarls. "Don't you touch him!"

The apparition chuckles. I'm a ghost, remember? I can't even touch you. The apparition reaches out to touch Fox, but its hand goes straight through him. See? I'm not going to hurt your friend.

Fox continues to glare, not fully trusting what the apparition says. Thorn is his best friend, but this is his issue to deal with, and he's not going to drag Thorn down this insane hole of guilt and self-loathing with him. Even so, it would be great if Thorn could see the apparition too. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so crazy about the whole situation. A little validation goes a long way in his mind. He just needs Thorn to see it once, then he can feel safe again, feel normal again.

"Fox?" Thorn asks in concern while handing him the towel. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Fox grabs the towel and pats himself and the chair dry. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Thorn isn't convinced, but doesn't argue.

I'm not fine , the apparition says. I'm dead .

Fox wants to say something in rebuttal, but Thorn's lack of comment about the elephant in the room makes him wonder. He turns his head to the apparition and then to Thorn, and then back again. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Thorn asks, a confused expression on his face.

"Nothing," Fox sighs and tosses the towel onto the desk before slumping back into his chair. "Nevermind."

"Fox," Thorn begins hesitantly. "I think you should see a medic. You've been acting strange lately and I'm worried."

Yeah, Fox , the apparition adds. You should see a medic for that missing memory issue . Maybe they can tell you why you killed me.

"I don't need a medic!" Fox exclaims. Thorn flinches and Fox bites his tongue. "Sorry. I'm just tired is all."

Thorn still isn't convinced, but he sighs and shakes his head. "Alright, I trust your judgment."

I don't , the apparition says. You shot me .

"Thanks," Fox says. His eye twitches. It's hard enough to keep his thoughts straight, but it's even harder when he has two people talking to him at once and only one of them is actually there.

"I'm here if you need me," Thorn says as he places a hand on Fox's shoulder. "Even if you just want to talk."

You can talk to me too , the apparition says.

"I appreciate that," Fox says, trying to give him his best fake smile.

Thorn throws Fox another look of concern, but turns and leaves his office all the same.

Fox immediately turns his attention to the apparition. "Can you just shut up?!"

No , the apparition says. That's the whole point of haunting. I'm supposed to be annoying.

Fox drops his head onto his desk and yells in frustration.

The apparition hops off the desk and kneels so it's face is on Fox's level. Just tell me why you killed me, Fox, it whispers. And I'll go away .

Fox clutches the sides of his head. "I'm trying," he chokes out. "But I can't remember."

It's been a week and Fox is on the verge of losing himself. He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can't do anything. The reports are piling up and questions are being asked. Thorn continues to check on him, and he appreciates it, but he wishes he'd stay away from him. Every time Thorn comes into his office, the apparition stares at him like he's a piece of meat. Fox knows the apparition can't hurt Thorn, at least, that's what he's been made to believe, but what if he's wrong?

He can't let it get Thorn, too. It can torment him all it wants, actually, it can even kill him if it wants, but he will not let anything happen to Thorn. Thorn is too good for this kind of torturous hell. Thorn hasn't killed any clones. He probably hasn't killed anyone . There's no reason for Thorn to be brought into this. It's him that the apparition wants. Its blood is on his hands, not Thorns. Thorn has nothing to do with any of this and Fox will do anything to protect him.

Hi Fox , the apparition says while leaning against the door frame of the office.

"What do you want?" Fox sneers from where he sits behind his desk.

The truth , the apparition says with a smug grin. You've been keeping it from me.

"Like I've said," Fox says. "I still don't remember."

Not good enough , the apparition says as it pushes itself off the door frame and approaches Fox's desk.

"I won't let you hurt Thorn," Fox says as he stands up.

What are you talking about? the apparition asks.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Fox exclaims. "I know you're going to hurt him to get back at me."

Are you alright, Fox? the apparition taunts. You seem a little off today.

"Get out of my head!" Fox yells as he clutches the sides of his head. "I know what you're doing!"

What's the matter? the apparition taunts. I've never seen you so unhinged before.

"Leave me alone!" Fox yells.

C'mon, Fox, the apparition walks closer. Tell me.

Fox draws one of his blasters and points it towards the ghostly figure. "Get away from me!"

Whoa, there, the apparition says, putting its hands up and taking a single step back. There's no need for that.

Fox breathes heavily. "I'm warning you!"

You won't shoot me, the apparition smirks. You have no reason to shoot me. Put the blaster down, Fox.

"I won't let you hurt him!" Fox yells, then fires a single bolt through the same spot as before, on the apparition's chest, through its heart. He watches as the apparition falls to its knees and clutches at its chest. That'll stop it. That'll shut it up. That'll make it leave him alone. That'll keep it from hurting– Thorn?

Fox pants with exasperation as his senses begin to clear. The vision of the apparition slowly dissipates, leaving behind the image of Thorn grasping at the hole in his chest. A look of pain, shock, horror, and confusion painted on his face as he looks at Fox. No. No, this can't be happening. He didn't. He couldn't. Did he shoot his best friend? It was the ghost. The ghost was right there. It was talking to him. It was taunting him. It was going to hurt Thorn.

"Fox," Thorn gasps. "Why?"

At the sound of Thorn's voice, the gravity of what Fox has done hits him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widen and his voice quivers. "Thorn."

Thorn collapses forward onto the floor and Fox rushes to his side.

"No, no, no, no," Fox rambles as he pulls his brother into his lap and applies pressure to the wound. "I need a medic!" he yells. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I didn't know it was you. There was a ghost and it was in my head and I couldn't remember." Tears begin to well in Fox's eyes as he tries desperately to explain.

Thorn reaches up a hand to touch Fox's cheek and Fox grabs it with his own.

"I'm… sorry," Thorn says weakly. "I… wish… I… could've… helped… you…" Thorn's hand drops as his body goes limp and he breathes his last breath.

"Where's my medic!" Fox yells, tears now streaming down his face unabated. "Hang on, vod." He pulls his brother's lifeless body close to his chest and rocks him back and forth. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me."

The apparition appears once again, crouches down in front of Fox, and looks apathetically at Thorn's lifeless body. It shakes its head. And to think all of this could've been avoided if you would've just told me what I wanted to know.

Fox looks at the apparition with murderous intent.

A vod for a vod , the apparition says with a smirk. At least you'll remember this one.

Event Masterlist

Masterlist

AO3

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ageless-aislynn · 1 day

Note

Angst! 16

Fluff! 13

Misc.! 16

And… for characters I’m going to throw out Kai, Alenko, and Soap. Do whatever pairings or friendships you’d like. Also I’m not gonna die if you choose not to use those characters. Or prompts. I dunno, I just wanna read your stuff man.

*glee* Thank you SO much for sending some prompts my way! These are all pretty short but mark my first time writing 2 of the 3 characters, so I'm just carefully dipping a toe in the COD and ME pools, lol!

Thanks so much again! 😎👍

Angst 16. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish & Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

"You ought to see the other guy, Lt," Soap said with an unrepentant grin, unmarred by the fact his left eye was nearly swollen shut and he had a prominent cut on his lower lip.

Ghost sighed slightly behind his skull balaclava. "Sure I'll recognize him by all the bruises on his knuckles," he said dryly.

Fluff 13. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Kaidan Alenko/Commander Shepard, Mass Effect (reader's choice as to whether it's male or female Shep 😉)

"Are you flirting with me?"

"You finally noticed?"

Kaidan squinted, several Commander Shepards swimming in front of him in the dim bar lighting, all wearing fondly amused expressions.

"You are flirting with me!" he stated as if having uncovered a core secret of the universe.

Shepard's smile broadened. "Think it's time to take you home and tuck you into bed."

"I'm going home with Cmdr. Shepard," he proclaimed loudly to the crowd around them. Several people raised a glass in good-natured salutes.

"Yeah, they know." Shepard got an arm around him, sliding him off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Most of them were at our wedding, after all."

Misc 16. “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Kai-125 & Vannak-134, Halo the series

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!"

John heard Kai's shout from the hallway outside of the Spartan quarters and shoved the door open to see—

He blinked. For a solid moment, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, actually. Kai vaulted over her own bed, being pursued hotly by Vannak.

"That wasn't honest," he said grimly. "You're just being mean."

"Look, it's not my fault that that penguin documentary was kinda lame and—"

"IT WAS NOT!" Vannak bellowed back and took a swing at her that would've definitely put a marine in the infirmary for a month, if not in the ground, permanently. For Kai, it would've at the very least mussed her hair. "Those penguins are adorable and—"

"Lame. Laaaaaame," she singsonged, ducking a flurry of punches, then doing a very impressive parkour run up the wall into a backflip that sent her soaring over the enraged Spartan's head.

"THEY'RE NOT LAME, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

John looked over at Riz, who was calmly sitting at a nearby table, reading something on her padd. She met his gaze, shrugged, and then went back to reading.

They crisscrossed the room rapidly, with Vannak coming close to getting his hands on her but, ultimately, Kai would manage to slip away at the last second. The entire time, she continued to issue penguin insults that, for some reason, the other Spartan took extremely personally.

John opened his mouth, about to say… something. Then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"I have paperwork to do," he announced to no one. "Don't I, Cortana?"

"I can find you some, Chief."

"That would be great," he said and just turned around and walked away.

Sentence Starters

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leskowitx · 3 months

Text

Mandala

#sonic the hedgehog fanart #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog fanart #shadow #sonic x shadow generations #artists on tumblr #this art does something cool if u have redblue glasses #so open it and put some on if you have a pair lol #open it for better quality also

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zreamy · 5 months

Text

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.

Or to you.

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.

Sunghoon cries again.

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.

“From here?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.

Until tonight at least.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.

“Exactly!�� he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks.

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.

“I didn’t.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.”

“You told him you were staying on campus?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.

“So you just left?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.”

“You’re here now, right?”

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”

“What?”

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.

His chest tightens when you start crying.

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep,” he says.

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much..

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”

“The longest of my life.”

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?”

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”

“Deal.”

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?”

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

“Yes. It’s three a.m.”

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.”

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.

“Tell me.”

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.

Oh, you think. Lovesickness.

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.

you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class?

you: of course!!!!!!

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.

“Are you hot?” you blurt out.

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble.

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”

Oh.

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.”

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.

You love him. He’s gone.

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.”

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”

“Please can I be your boyfriend?”

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm..

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?”

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.”

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.

You nod. “You can.”

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“And this? If you want..”

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“Hoon,” you whisper.

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.sunghoon

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ghostfacd · 5 months

Text

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

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user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

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user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

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tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

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tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fic #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.”

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?”

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door.

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega.

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know.

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door.

It’s going to be a long week.

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent.

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller.

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged.

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat.

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much.

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things.

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?”

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.”

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.”

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?”

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.”

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks.

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom.

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom.

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.”

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable.

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.”

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.”

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert.

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up.

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort.

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room.

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega.

Their omega.

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient.

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right.

Maybe they did need you after all.

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water.

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while.

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back.

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.”

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?”

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.”

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.”

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?”

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room.

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest.

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips.

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back.

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain.

You went into heat.

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark.

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over.

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs.

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears.

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week.

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort.

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this.

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence.

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?”

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb.

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.”

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure.

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.”

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks.

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.”

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.”

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done.

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all.

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him.

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.”

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could.

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks.

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again.

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks.

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame.

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days.

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?”

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.”

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall.

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw.

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside.

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.”

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent.

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases.

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through.

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in.

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-”

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.”

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.”

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh.

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.”

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still.

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-”

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face.

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.”

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it.

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta.

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.”

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees.

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha.

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.”

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it.

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s.

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks.

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole.

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass.

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.”

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either.

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before.

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets.

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again.

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.”

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.”

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank.

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again.

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further.

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.”

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise.

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more.

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!”

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is.

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!”

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done.

They’re both in for a long night.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #x reader #captain price x reader #John price x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #soap x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #Omegaverse

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skzdarlings · 28 days

Text

the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.

Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.

“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.

“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.

“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.

“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.

“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.

Chan squeaks.

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.

“Channie,” you say, breathless again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”

“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.

Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”

His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”

You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.

“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.

“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”

He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.

“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

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teardropsonmyviolin · 19 days

Text

lost in japan | mv1

pairing : gymnast!fem!reader x max verstappen

genre : social media au

summary : in which y/n is a well known gymnast who has a very obvious obsession with f1 (with redbull, specially max) there’s a new romance brewing when she finally meets max!

a/n : thank you to anon for requesting this!! 🩷 requests are always open!! i need some inspo recently 😭 i’m horrible at gymnastics terminology even though i have gymnast friends… plz forgive for how badly i did

yourusername

liked by yourbff , lilymhe , and 654,210 others

yourusername 🍜🤸‍♀️🏎️

view all comments…

yourbff someone needs to conduct a study on you and your obsession with f1 😕

yourusername it’s a healthy addiction.

lilymhe talented talented girl!!! ❤️ so lovely seeing you traveling again to see the races!!

yourusername i think i’m in love with you? let’s hang out sometime!!!

username y/n’s love for f1 is so me

username wait lily and y/n are friends? how do they know each other?

username i’m pretty sure they met in the paddock a few years back? they hit off and they’re close friends now! :)

username i saw you at the first rounds, u and ur team did so good!!!

yourusername thank you so much, I'm glad you thought so!! 🤍

username how do u have money for this

username LIFESTYLE GOALS DEF

username how to be y/n l/n

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername , and others

maxverstappen1 lovely race! had a great time winning here in front of some amazing fans, and a great time meeting some people! 🇯🇵

view all comments…

username y/n was talking about manifesting a max win in her live

username the caption is so obviously toward y/n 😭 have y’all seen her post?

username who’s y/n? everyone in the comments is talking about her

username shes a college level gymnast! she’s a very enthusiastic f1 fan lol and has been wanting to meet the drivers for a while!!

username another max win like usual 😢

username i know for a fact that y/n was representing all of us max girlies fan girling

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 , yourbff , and 912,883 others

yourusername i got lost in japan but at least i met max verstappen!!!!! *real!!!* *not clickbait!!!!* in all seriousness, i had a great time meeting you, and you’re such a lovely person to be around! 🤍

view all comments…

yourbff 👀

yourusername shut up 😭😭

username y/n’s bff knows something we don’t…

maxverstappen1 i had a great time meeting you! you’re so incredibly talented! 🙌

yourusername wow thank you so much??? you have so much talent, it’s crazy!

username the hand placement for both of them??? i see y’all…

username THE SMILES AWEEWWE 🥹🥹🥹🥹

time skip

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 , yourbff , and 833,100 others

yourusername monthly recap ⏰

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maxverstappen1 good luck for the upcoming nationals!

yourusername thank you so much, max :)🤍🤍

yourbff the man in the first pic?? y/n.

yourusername my bf is so amazing i know ☺️🤍🤍

↬ yourbff BF?????? GIRL TEXT ME RN.

username WAIT Y/N HAS A BF?

username boyfriend is max. i’m calling it. it’s fucking verstappen.

username it’s so fucking obvious it’s him too 😭😭😭

username verstappen fr winning at everything 😢

username I HAVE SO MUCH FAITH FOR YOU AND UR TEAM IN NATIONALS 🙏🙏

yourusername THANK YOUUUUUU!!!! 🤍🤍

time skip

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 , yourbff , and 988,233 others

yourusername celebrating a huge huge nationals win with the bested team in the whole wide universe and my loving boyfriend! couldn’t ask for a better weekend! 🥹🥹🤍💐

tagged : yourcollege , teammates , maxverstappen1

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username CALLED IT.

username congrats on winning nationals!!!! very much deserved!

username max and y/n always winning wbk

yourbff ILYSM AND IM SO SO PROUD OF HOW FAR YOU’VE COME!

yourusername my biggest supporter ilysm 🥹

yourbff max getting you flowers as he should!!!

yourusername plz 😭

maxverstappen1 so incredibly proud of the effort you put in. ❤️ i love you.

yourusername u don’t know how much this means coming from you 🥹💐🩷

maxverstappen1 prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.

yourusername STOP i love you

#f1 aesthetic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one #smau #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smau #max verstappen 1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n

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aeyumicore · 2 months

Text

☾ .⭒˚ she can't come to the phone right now ♡ xavier x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: xavier x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, porn with very little plot

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 3.1k (who is she practicing short smuts)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, dom!xavier, dark!xavier, ooc!xavier (unless you consider dark xavier canon), jealous!xav, vaginal sex, prone bone, slight voyeurism, light choking, breeding kink, jealousy, sex while on the phone, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected sex

⋆.˚ ☾ image link: https://x.com/honiraccoon/status/1758152675500380654?s=20 (it's nsfw so i highly rec checking it out bc i can't put it here LOL)

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HELLO bet you didn’t expect me back so soon! I am back with a SHORT smut this time, based on this amazing ovulating inducing fanart @/honiraccoon on twit/x made (with their permission of course). I’ve attached the photo below :’) go support them and their art!

this is very dom and ‘dark’ (if you’ve seen the glitches) xavier. the smut itself is not that dark!! if you’re not a fan of this version of xavier you will not enjoy this.

also header is from @/osk_purinnumee twitter <3

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

honestly, you had absolutely no idea how you ended up in this position. after not seeing xavier for several days, having been sent on different missions this week, he and you finally had a coinciding day off. and so you’d spent the most perfect day together, complete with morning cuddles after sleeping in, a homemade breakfast, and a fruitful day at the arcade.

you couldn't stop thinking about the signature xavier smile you’d gotten to see all day, soft and pure, just like xavier himself. but this was not the gentle and adoring xavier you’d seen all day, the xavier you’d come to know and love.

you found yourself naked, with your stomach pressed firmly into xavier’s plush mattress and your feet planted on the ground at the feet of the bed, back arched so deeply it might snap. he was pressed so deeply and harshly on top of you, his feet planted right behind yours. he’d pulled so many orgasms out of you already and showed no signs of relenting, his pelvis smacking your ass repeatedly as he forced himself in and out of you.

“x-xavier, i c-can’t come anymore, please,” your voice was hoarse from screaming, unable to keep up with xavier’s insatiable vigor. you had no idea what had gotten into him today. it’d been a relatively stress-free day, but he seemed to be using your bodies to relieve some kind of intense emotion built up inside of him.

“yes you can, i know you can,” he cooed, his mouth right into your ear as his body crushed you against the bed, “you’re a good girl aren’t you?”

his hands gently grabbed a fist full of your hair, urging you up so your cheeks pressed against each other. you cried out at the sensation, “y-yes, i’m a good girl.”

the wet sounds of his cock ramming in and out of your abused cunt filled the room. xavier’s grip was tight on your scalp and on your waist, and you were sure you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingers the next day.

“you’re my good girl, right?” he groaned out as he removed the hand from your waist to lift you by hooking his arm around your stomach, so that your ass arched higher into the air. at this angle his thick length entered you so deeply that it felt like he might burst through your cervix. your eyes squeezed shut as your tongue slipped out, panting against the brute force of his thrusts. though his tone was dominating and demanding, you couldn’t help but notice a sliver of insecurity lacing his words.

he tugged at your hair, and you yelped at the slight pain bleeding into the pleasure xavier was giving you. he repeated, this time more demanding and threatening, “whose good girl are you?”

your eyes snapped open as his thrusts pushed through every corner of your poor pussy, ravaging every single inch of you. you forced your brain to focus on his words, his rare domineering attitude driving you absolutely insane, “yours xavier! m’your good girl.”

you felt him harden even further at your words. his voice against your ear is deceptively gentle, “really? then why was my good girl so preoccupied with her phone today?” his words are so domineering and possessive, you find yourself clenching at the thought of his adorable jealousy.

so that's how you found yourself in this position.

“h-hah, m’sorry xav. jeremiah kept – ah – texting me today to—”

xavier cuts you off, his thrusts stuttering briefly, “jeremiah? he was the one you were – hah – texting all fucking day?”

“y-yes but he was just sending me, ahhh, stupid ph-photos of different animals with kn-knives,” you sputter out, nails digging into the fitted sheet of his mattress. you almost wanted to laugh at how comical it all sounded but the feeling of him inside of you rendered you a speechless mess of sweat, cum, and ecstasy.

“is that so?” and with that, xavier fucks you with an unprecedented pace. he thrusts so hard your ass ripples against his pelvis and your thighs struggle to stay upright as he presses further into your aching body. you can feel yourself slowly succumbing to the exhaustion of four orgasms, a fifth in the distant horizon.

“you are mine,” he all but growls into your neck, his fingers digging into the delicate skin of your throat. you're jolted back to consciousness at the feeling of his hand closing into your airway, deliciously cutting off your breath. xavier’s rarely this aggressive and brutal. sure he’d love to take the lead as often as he surrendered it to you, but this was a whole different xavier. and you were positively obsessed.

“i’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he demands against the shell of your ear, using his canines to graze your earlobes. you shiver at his words, cunt clamping down onto him. he moans in response to your grip, but only driving deeper and harder.

his hard abdomen continued to mold perfectly into your arched back, bending your body into mind numbing proportions. he releases your waist, causing you to slump back into the bed. instead wraps his arm around both your breasts, squeezing to the point of seeing black spots in your vision.

the force of his thrusts causes your body to rock onto the bed under his large and imposing stature. every single push made your clit brush against the soft bed sheets, stimulating you beyond belief. you were sure xavier’s sheets were absolutely filthy from the spend of your multiple orgasms, smearing all over them as he pushed your body to its limits.

as you continue to moan uncontrollably for him, xavier refuses to stop whispering filthy praises into your ear, driving you closer and closer.

“you’re so beautiful like this, your body was made just for me, right?”

you nod feverishly, his words going straight to your cunt. it wasn’t often you got to witness this side of xavier and you were living for it.

“m’all yours xav, no one else’s ever,” you choke out, the force of his cock deep in your throat.

his head dips down, pressing wet kisses into your shoulder blades before biting down and sucking brutally hard, and then licking at them soothingly. xavier smiles, admiring the hickies forming on your trembling soft skin, marking you as his.

“if only jeremiah could see you like this. maybe he would realize you’re mine, huh?”

you wanted to retort, reassure him that he had absolutely nothing to be concerned about, but your brain could only focus on his massive cock claiming every part of your throbbing cunt. he’d rendered you absolutely fucked out, a vessel of ecstasy and a means to pleasure himself. your brain fought to form words, to no avail. only the most primal parts of you remained, capable of moaning and screaming for him and nothing more.

you try to speak again, but before you can get anything out the sound of your phone on the bed beside your slick bodies rang out. the screen lit up and through your fucked out haze and tears in your eyes, you could vaguely make out jeremiah’s contact photo lighting up the screen.

“speak of the devil,” xavier grits out. despite the annoyance in his voice you can also make out the faintest hint of mischief.

“pick it up love,” he whispers almost tauntingly, thrusts still unrelenting, “we can’t ignore our poor jeremiah can we?”

while you can tell his words are laced with jealousy and faint bitterness, you know xavier cares about jeremiah and trusts him fully. it really felt like he was just, for once, giving into his primal urges, and enjoying the hell out of it too.

you shook your head no, doing your best to push your phone away.

“no?” xavier asks, amused, “but i thought it was urgent that you respond to him immediately.”

you want to roll your eyes at his childishness, but before you can do anything, xavier snatches the phone from beside you, slowing his rhythm to a languid roll of his pelvis against your flushed ass.

“x-xavier—“ but he cuts you off with a pointed thrust that knocks the wind out of you, his thick length absolutely rearranging your guts. you whine at the blinding pleasure, almost forgetting the fact that xavier was picking up your cell phone, while he was inside of you.

“hello?” xavier answers cooly, as if he wasn’t knee deep into your cunt. he holds the phone to his ear, laying down into the arch of your back. his cheek is pressed against yours, his hot breath blowing into your burning skin while he speaks, as he continues to ravage you.

your eyes widen as you realize he didn’t just decline the call, and that he was actually on the phone. but xavier reads you like the back of his hand, covering your mouth with his palm before you can protest. he grips your face gently, but not allowing a single word to come out beyond the muffled sounds of your sensual moans.

“oh, hey jeremiah. y/n forgot her phone and is currently occupied by me right now,” xavier speaks calmly, but the increased passion in his thrusts send your eyes reeling into the back of his skull. his words hold a suspicious double meaning, and you pray jeremiah doesn’t catch on. similarly, you desperately hope that the loud wet sounds of his pelvis pounding into you can’t be heard on the phone, cause they ring so loudly in your ear.

every time you try to speak, xavier’s grip on your face gets tighter and his pace gets rougher, harder. it’s like he’s trying to force the lewd moans out of your mouth, like he wanted jeremiah to hear everything he was doing to you, to hear the sound of his skin slapping into yours. strangely enough, the risk of it all intensifies the pleasure ten-fold. you tighten around xavier as you continue to leak everywhere.

xavier swears inexplicably under his breath, though you’re sure jeremiah can still hear it, “squeezing me so fucking tight.” your eyes squeeze shut at the excitement and embarrassment of xavier’s inability to contain his own pleasure. or perhaps, he didn’t contain it on purpose.

as if to punish you, xavier gives you a deliberate and pointed thrust, letting his cock angle upwards into your g spot while his body pushes you down so your clit drags against the bed, forcing the most vulgar sob out of your lips, bordering between a strangled cry and a mewling whimper. simultaneously, his hold on your chin loosens and he slips his index and middle finger into your waiting mouth. his actions cause your previously muffled moans to ring out completely unrestricted.

your eyes widen as you realize there is absolutely no way jeremiah didn’t hear that. it seems like you’re correct because xavier’s soft voice pierces through the thick sexual tension in the air.

“no. that’s the sound of a kitten,” you can hear the grin in his voice as he continues to roll his hips into you, his fingers toying with your tongue. you vaguely hear jeremiah’s muffled voice through the phone, doing your best to keep your sounds at bay. and failing miserably.

“okay, bye.” xavier tosses your phone back on the bed, kneeling back into your body and into your neck.

“do you think he bought that?” xavier’s grinning again, and you are certain he’s teasing you.

“xavier!” you cry, the mortification settling in with the pleasure, both feelings fighting to dominate your consciousness.

“i told you, you’re mine. jeremiah needs to know that,” he grumbles breathlessly into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

“m’yours xav, everyone knows that,” you cry out. xavier moans out in satisfaction, and you feel his cock twitching inside of your gummy walls. his pace grows erratic as his length swells inside of you, and you can tell he’s so close to coming undone.

his husky groans by your ear fuel the fire of your own orgasm, stoking the burning embers until they threaten to burst into a full blown wildfire.

“sh-shit you’re close huh love? getting so damn tight around me,” xavier grunts, biting into your neck. suddenly he picks your phone back up and you can distinctly see the flash shining down on the bed below your bodies.

“x-xavier?” you moan, completely blissed out, unable to turn your head to see what he’s doing. he lifts his body off of yours and grips your waist with one hand, pushing you down harder on his erection.

“don’t worry baby, just taking some videos for our dear friend,” he mutters and you hear the distinct beep of your phone starting a recording. you try to protest but xavier’s pace becomes unrelenting and you’re only able to moan out his name once more.

“you gonna come for me, my love?” his voice is far away, clouded with intense lust. his grip on your waist tightens as he watches the ripples of your flesh against his viscous pounding. your back arches at his words, cunt tightening in anticipation of your climax.

“m’so close xav, gonna cum s-soon,” you wail, letting your body tighten around him, wanting him to cum with you.

his hand leaves your waist and presses against the bulge on your tummy, “can you feel that love? i’m right here. should i put a baby in here? think it’ll fit?”

you squeal at his words, the pure filth dripping off of them like gasoline to the wildfire that is your impending orgasm, raging through every inch of your body. your pussy squeezes around him again.

“ffuuck, i think that’s a yes, huh baby? want me to cum inside you?” he’s panting desperately as he fills you repeatedly, “fuck – you would look so beautiful with my baby – hah – inside of you.”

in your fucked out state, you nod excitedly, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his essence, everywhere. you could worry about the repercussions after.

“then everyone will know you’re mine huh? right baby?” you nod again, your voice nothing more than a strangled moan.

“say it for the camera love, let him know,” he encourages, his voice deep and throaty. he doesn’t say who, but you know exactly who xavier is referencing.

though you don’t want to indulge his jealousy, you find yourself unable to deny the man who was guts deep in your womb. and so you cry out, “m’all yours xav, please. need you t’cum inside. i’m a g-good girl, i deserve your cum, please.”

your phone shakes in xavier’s hands as your words set him off, “fuck, don’t worry baby, s’all for you. gonna give it all to you ’kay? you ready love?”

you tighten in response, signaling that you’re about to fall into the chasm of your orgasm.

“x-xavier m’cumming,” you wail, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, your ass grinding deeper into him, back arching into the bed. your body trembles as the climax overtakes you. your vision spots as the sensitivity of multiple orgasms wrecks your body. the pressure in your guts is so intense, threatening to explode, and you feel yourself release all over xavier’s groin. the sensation was so new and foreign it had your brain reeling, trying to grasp onto this new ecstasy your body was falling into.

“h-holy shit did you just squirt on me?” xavier groans out, still recording the sight of your ass against him. and he thanked god he was recording at all, able to capture the sight of you squirting all over him.

“i-i think so xav, m’sorry,” you cry, still quivering around his brutal thrusts. the soaked friction of the wet skin between you two splashes and your cheek burns in embarrassment. you’d never squirt before, and you were mortified.

“no,” he grits breathlessly, almost threateningly, “don’t be sorry. fuck, need to see you do that for me again.” you hear the click of the recording shutting off, and your phone bounces back onto the mattress. xavier grabs your waist with both hands and thrusts sloppily, cock spasming in your tight walls.

he groans through every last thrust, and you cling onto consciousness, riding the last waves of your orgasm. xavier falls back in place on top of you, wanting to be as physically close to you as possible when he finished. his abdomen pressed into the arch of your back and his chin dug into the crook of your neck. with one final savage stroke, he spills everything he has into you.

xavier shivers through his orgasm, rope after rope of milky white essence dripping into you. you can feel every pump of his warmth inside you. he thrusts languidly a few more times for good measure, wanting it to reach as physically deep as possible. he’d be damned if he let a single drop go to waste.

your legs give out and you rest yourself entirely on the bed while xavier rests on top of you, supporting most of his weight with his arms propped on the bed, still caging you in. he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, and then your cheek.

“you’re going to make such a good mommy one day,” xavier murmurs into your ear, rubbing slow and soothing circles into your ribcage.

your heart squeezes at his words, and simultaneously your cunt around his softening cock. xavier hisses at the overstimulation, “fuck you’re going to squeeze every last drop out of me love. you like the idea of being a mommy huh?”

you nod sleepily, losing your grip on consciousness, “mm, slipping out xavier.”

xavier pulls out of you with a groan, and you whimper at the feel of the release dripping down your thighs. he picks you up gently so your legs no longer hang off the bed and then flops down beside you, tucking you into his chest.

you sigh contently against his softly heaving heart. you feel xavier moving around, while still keeping his arm wrapped around you. you force your eyes open so you can see what he’s up to, and find him unlocking your phone, the light illuminating his face in the darkening room.

“xav? what are you doing?” you mumble sleepily, nestling back into his warm body.

“just sending some videos,” xavier whispers, stroking your hair with his free hand.

your eyes fly open and you sit up to face him, “xavier! absolutely not!”

he grins mischievously at you, “relax love, i just sent them to myself.” the reassuring smile he gives you reminds you your soft, adoring, and gentle xavier is back. but you can’t help but anticipate the next time you’ll see that side of xavier again.

bonus: some of the pics that jeremiah was texting mc:

taglist: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun

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saerotonins · 4 months

Text

in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it.

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration.

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often,"

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window."

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty."

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier.

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store.

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage.

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking.

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud—

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind.

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch.

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't.

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along.

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about.

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off.

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by.

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down.

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face.

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is.

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain.

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you.

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good.

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no.

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you,"

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest."

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms.

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged.

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him.

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut.

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring.

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life.

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom.

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting.

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

3K notes · View notes

palajae · 1 month

Text

my name. | nishimura riki

PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki! x reader

GENRE ▸ detective! au, fantasy! au, high school! au, s2ls, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN

WC ▸ 15.6k

SUMMARY ▸ you supposedly get transported to a different world, where you encounter niki. apparently, you already existed here. note: past tense. so now you’re stuck in an alternate universe and technically, you’re supposed to be dead.

AKA after facing the truth, you come to the realization that someone was definitely trying to kill you.

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of death!!!, a murder mystery/whodunit, profanity, mentions of suicide, depictions of murder, a few curse words, violence, blood, dead bodies, some gorey stuff, kissing, nothing too harsh, excuse any typos/misspellings...

wow... i can't believe it but it is finally out... it's been a long time coming lol. with losing several family members and hospital visits over the past year, i wasn't sure if this was ever going to get released. thank you all for your endless (fr) patience and support. happy reading ❤️

a faceless figure stretches out a hand towards you.

you squint but for some reason, you still can’t make them out. the longer you stare, the more you realize it was a person—a blurry vision of a faceless boy. considering the matching uniform to yours, he must’ve gone to your school …was he your classmate?

you frown. you’ve never seen anyone like him in class before. you stretch out your arm, fingertips barely grazing his-

the sound of the school bell ringing causes your eyelids to fly open. you groan, yawning and getting up from your seat by the window by default.

it wasn’t a nice nap—just one that left you feeling groggy, unsettled, and strangely incomplete.

you pack up your stuff quietly and leave the classroom alone, not bothering to look for your friends. as you walk down the stairs, you hear your classmates chattering about the weather.you glance outside.

it was a dreary, unwelcoming kind of rain—part of the reason why you fell asleep earlier in class—and you suddenly feel the urge to get home. as soon as possible.

you weren’t sure why, but it wasn’t just raining. it started to pour, especially hard, on this spring day. you want to think that was what made your mood all miserable and forlorn.

not to forget the fact that you didn’t have an umbrella, leaving you no other choice but to throw your hood on and tighten the strings of your hoodie over your school uniform. not exactly the most stylish look, yet it was comfortable enough for you.

you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion, but you felt out of place, like for some weird reason… you didn’t belong here. like you belonged out of this circle, away from this life and world.

that feeling always came up when it started to rain, and you always tried your best to suppress it. but it was particularly strong today.

you shrugged it off though. those “phases” weren’t uncommon, right?

though you made it halfway out the school grounds by yourself, hyein and hanni catch up to you as you walk. you give them a half-hearted smile, “hey.”

it doesn’t take much for them to notice your off behavior. hyein eyes you.

“you okay, y/n?”

you debate internally, reminding yourself that they’re your friends. you can trust them, rely on them. you’re allowed to do that. even more so, aren’t you supposed to do that?

but the words that come out of your mouth suggest otherwise. you shrug, “it’s nothing. it’s just been a weird day, you know?”

they share a glance before turning back to you, sympathetic smiles on their faces. hanni pats you on the shoulder, “yeah, we get it. you should get some rest at home, y/n. we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“be careful on the way back! the rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping soon.” she calls out before they continue, leaving you behind—still as soaked as ever.

you wave before sighing, gripping the straps of your backpack tighter and making your way towards the train station. the sound of the rain almost makes you fall into a daze as you go about your way. all your school stuff and clothes were definitely getting soaked, which probably meant an oncoming cold, but you could’ve cared less.

the only thing that mattered was going home and sleeping off this weird feeling, so it could become tomorrow and you didn’t have to be in this situation anymore.

the train station is strangely busy, you figure the downpour was making everyone go home sooner. you bypass several people, almost getting your soaked and stained shoes stepped on several times. all while muttering quiet “excuse me’s” to practically everyone and anyone who cared to listen.

after what seemed like ages, you manage to make it to your train. although, the large crowd surrounding the entrance effectively prevents you from getting anywhere.

you mutter a curse, trying to navigate through the waves of people. you just barely get on before the doors begin closing. letting out a huff in relief, you lean back against the door and slowing yourself a moment to close your eyes in peace. all the seats were obviously taken at that point, so you had no choice but to stand. that’s fine—you end up drifting off anyway.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. or why you feel even more exhausted when you wake up. but the robotic voice announcing your arrival makes your eyes automatically flutter open. you feel your body getting pushed and shoved around as everyone tries to get out all at once.

so you grit your teeth and tug down your hood further until you can finally get out. you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings, too focused on not getting knocked to the ground. when you finally stumble out of the crowd onto the station platform, you try to collect yourself while shaking your head. then you frown,

wait a second-

something solid knocks into you from the side, a rough oof! escaping out of their--mouth?

you’re knocked onto the ground, bottom first. pain shoots into your palms that tried (and failed) to catch your fall—and obviously, your butt as well.

you groan, eyes flashing in annoyance at your unknown assailant. looking up, you stop at the sight of the… boy in front of you.

you really have no idea why, but a question immediately pops into your head—

have you met before?

you don’t voice it, but it lingers in the back of your mind. the boy—as far as you can tell, he looks around your age— simply stares at you. he’s in a strikingly similar uniform.

a flicker of recognition passes in his eyes before you watch his expression grow flabbergasted. he continues to stare at you for a solid minute, while you only stare back in confusion, still on the floor.

“it’s rude to stare, you know.” you finally state with a furrowed brow as you quickly gathering your bearings.

his only response is a blink.

it's like the two of you are frozen in time, everyone else getting drowned out in the moment.

you frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “hello? did you hear me?” you repeat yourself and this time he snaps out of it.

“y-you’re not supposed to be here.” he gets out shakily, looking around while his hand runs through his dark locks in distress. you cross your arms, “what do you mean? this is my stop…”

you falter when you remember what you saw earlier. when you got off the train, you took a quick glance at the signs and posts. yeah, this definitely wasn’t your stop.

that wouldn’t have been a huge issue- if it wasn’t for the fact that you never missed your station, no matter the circumstances.

“no!” he exclaims and you flinch at the outburst. the boy glances at you again, and this time you involuntarily shiver at the unreadable look in his eyes.

“you’re…. you’re supposed to be dead.”

your mouth drops open.

“what a great first thing to say to someone you just bowled over. not even a sorry..” you mutter off, suddenly finding the strength to get up and wipe your hands.

the boy takes a step back away from you. curiously, you take one forward, towards him. he gestures a hand at you almost aggressively.

“you’re dead. you died. i swear-“

you hold out your hands in half desperation and half exasperation, “i dunno if this is some dumb prank or something i missed, but i hate to break it to you. i’m not dead. i’m literally right here in front of you. i think i would know if i died or not. i’m-”

again, that feeling of being out of place washes over you. this time it steals your breath away.

the strange boy shakes his head. “there’s no way. i know exactly who you look like.”

his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’re exactly like y/n y/l/n—who died a week ago.” he looks you up and down again, hands curling into fists.

“who are you? and why do you look just-?”

“because that’s who i am? my name is y/n! now, if you would excuse me.”

you hold up a hand, you didn’t have the time or patience to deal with weirdos on the street. it did struck a little odd that he knew your name, but then again he must’ve gone to your school and heard of you somewhere. the only thing that unsettled you was his reaction.

it just seemed too real, like he couldn’t have been that good at acting.

he grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving. all he does is shake his head again like he’s just trying to reassure himself. you’re about to protest, so utterly confused at what’s happening-how you missed your stop and why this strange boy is saying that you’re dead. none of it makes sense.

his face looks pale and grim, and you’re sure yours look exactly the same. “you can’t be y/n. and yet, here you are right in front of me.”

“i will scream like a little girl for help if you don’t let me go at this-“

“p-please. this isn’t a joke. you can’t be here. we need to get out of here—where everyone can’t see you.”

before you can even splutter a response, he drags you off.

you can call me niki, his words echo in your head.

his name rolls off your tongue unfamiliarly. in his states of panic—to which niki kept slapping himself and you kept denying that you were a hallucination—

you ended up introducing yourselves and deciding to find a better place to discuss. more like, niki decided. you soon began to regret that decision.

all you wanted to do was go home, but this persistent kid you’ve never seen before wouldn’t let you or your conscience go. maybe it was the weird feeling from earlier, but you have the urge to at least hear him out. but when you walked out of that train station behind him, everything was wrong.

you don’t know how to describe it. it was right but… at the same time, it wasn’t.

to begin with, you ended up at the wrong station but it led you to the right street to get home. the streets name were the same, but the stores weren’t.

and the bus stop—the bus driver that had worked there for fifteen years, the one you had greeted for fifteen years, suddenly became an entirely different person. he never missed a day, no matter what occasion it was.

things weren’t right and you had no idea what was going on.

following niki, you get lost in your thoughts. you shake your head, clapping a hand over your forehead. maybe… you’re just in a weird dream. a really realistic one, because none of this made sense. it wasn’t raining anymore either, which would’ve been fine, excluding for one tiny detail: the streets were completely dry. judging by the strength of the rain earlier, it really shouldn’t—no, it couldn’t have dried up that fast.

It wasn’t physically possible.

you could easily navigate your way around this area because you lived here all your life. and yet, it felt like you didn’t live here. not when this random stranger (only on a first name basis) keeps insisting that you died.

niki—or whoever—leads you to a very familiar library, the same one where you spent hours studying for your finals. you head in, feeling a bit better hearing the familiar entrance chime. you walk ahead of him to take your spot by the back corner. the fact that this place was essentially the same gave you some comfort.

niki seems surprised, but he doesn’t say anything, only taking the seat across from you.

“okay.” you start, glancing at the boy with wary eyes.

“if whatever bs you’re spewing is true, explain.”

he raises his eyebrows.

“me? explain?”

you nod and he scoffs, “i think you’re the one who should be explaining. after all, you’re the one that’s supposed to be dead-“

“i’m not dead.” you grit out, rolling your eyes.

“okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender, “but you still need to talk.”

you sigh, rubbing your temples.

“what do you want me to say? that i got soaked, took the train home, overslept, and then missed my stop? then, i bumped into a weird boy-”

he shoots you an offended look, which you ignore.

“-who keeps telling me that i died. oh, and the more and more i stay here with you, the more wrong everything gets?” you barely get the last word out before niki leans in, eyes focused intently on you.

the closer he gets, you more you begin to malfunction. you unconsciously hold your breath, alarm and confusion evident in your eyes. his hand reaches out, slowly, to your head. your body freezes.

his fingers catch a drop of water at the tip of your hair. “sorry. that was bothering me.”

you exhale, glaring at him. “are you serious?”

“yeah. are you?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i’m a ghost and i’m haunting you. of course i’m being serious!”

he gives you an unconvinced look and you roll your eyes, “i’m y/n y/l/n. we live an hour away from the capital. my house is two blocks away in the neighborhood with the broken fountain, and right now we’re at the library that doesn’t open on thursdays.

you harshly tug off your suddenly dry hoodie, displaying your school uniform.

“and by the looks of it, we go to the same school.”

his eyes widen as he leans in closer to study your uniform. you shrug away, caught off guard. then you frown, “but i’ve never seen you before at school. how do i know that you’re not some imposter? that you somehow stole a uniform to get something from me?”

he rolls his eyes while you gaze at him suspiciously.

“obviously not, because that’s dumb.”

you scoff.

“i live here. why would i go through all the trouble to steal a uniform to get something from you? besides, what would i need from some-“

he glances at you and you tense,

“-kid like you? you’re the one who came out of the train looking so suspicious, it’s like you appeared out of nowhere,” he counters.

you place your palms flat on the table, “okay, it’s obvious we aren’t getting anywhere. we both don’t have answers and we’re not even close to one. all i know is that i’m alive,” you shoot him another look, “and that i somehow ended up here. now, can i go?”

there’s a brief pause before niki speaks up, slowly. “i already told you, you can’t be seen. come with me. and keep the hood on.”

you roll your eyes. who was he to boss you around?

he grumbles something along the lines of- “don’t want to be seen walking around with a dead person.”

the only reason you listened was partly due to fear that you would lose your way in this familiar, yet unfamiliar place. except, you know exactly where he’s taking you. because it’s the same neighborhood you live in.

“wait,” you call out, “this is where i live.” you point to your house, and niki grimaces.

“i know. there were police here for days.”

you stop, unsure of what to say or do. police? at your house? when?

you stare at your supposed house, suddenly dark and empty. what in the world happened?

“come on,” niki calls out and you move to catch up. you’re starting to think niki may be telling the truth.

soon enough, you make it to an unfamiliar house about a street down from yours. as niki unlocks the door, you take the opportunity to study him, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen him before. but when he turns to you, you clear your throat and look away.

“this is my house,” he tilts his head while opening the door.

you like the fact that it’s messy. it felt much more homey because of that. it was also a lot bigger than yours, filled with fancy and intricate things. to which you assume this niki guy has more money than he has yet to admit. he tells you to wait in the living room, and he soon returns with a stack of books.

you pause, “yearbooks?“

he nods, “yeah, our school’s.”

strangely enough, most of the covers are different than yours at home.

but everything else is the same, like the name and logo. he pulls out this year’s yearbook and flips through before stopping at a page.

“that’s me,” he points to the picture of him and you tilt your head, frowning.

“huh. so we are in the same year. but i’ve never seen you in my yearbook—or at school before. i swear i would’ve seen you at least once before...”

you rub your temples, this whole situation was making your head hurt. none of it made sense. you study his picture, why in the world did he actually look good in his yearbook photo? your eyes shift toward his name,

nish—

he turns the page before you can finish reading, only to get distracted by seeing familiar classmates in your yearbook. niki stays silent as he flips through pages and you continue to point out your friends and classmates and stare in wonder at the unfamiliar ones-

ones that you’ve never seen before in your life but somehow their faces are printed on the page, in the same grade and same school as you.

just like niki. you were actually speechless.

eventually, he stops flipping eventually and looks at you. you catch his eye and glance down at the page, immediately catching on. you breath hitches.

“no way—”

“—and there’s you.”

it is you. you can confirm, it’s a photo of someone who looks exactly like you. but… it’s not you.

almost everything is the same, your face and clothes. your hair was cut shorter, and your smile wider for the picture. you were even wearing makeup, for crying out loud. you can only stare at the photo.

according to niki, this you is dead?

you look up at him, stomach churning. what in the world was going on?

the silence lasts until niki finally speaks up with a hesitant tone. “i might be tripping, but have you ever heard of… alternate realities?”

you shake your head firmly, “don’t even get me started on that-“

he cuts you off, “i know, i know. but just hear me out.”

you have no choice but to internally whisper a quiet plea of help. he scoots closer,

“wouldn’t it make sense? there’s really no other explanation. maybe it’s because i watched that spider-man movie recently, but you being from another world would explain how you’re alive right now—when in this world, you’re dead. plus, all the similarities and differences that you mentioned can be chalked up to different timelines—the butterfly effect and stuff like that.”

you don’t know what to say.

could it actually be?

what other explanation could there be?

“please say something,” niki mumbles and you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“okay. okay. fine. say the whole multiverse crap is true. then how did i even get here? how did i—”

you do air quotations,

“—switch dimensions to another world?”

niki shrugs, “no idea.”

he scratches his head, “it’s weird to think about but i mean, maybe there’s a reason why you came here.”

his voice suddenly gets lower and you shiver, “you know, the timing’s a bit weird that you showed up right after the other you passed away.”

you clear your throat, “let’s not think about that right now. we should probably focus on the whole me being dead thing, right?”

“what?”

you glance at him questioningly, “what?”

niki raises an eyebrow. “what’s there to focus on? you died.”

you don’t have to rub it in my face, you mumble under your breath.

“shouldn’t we be focusing on how to get you back to your world?”

you roll your eyes, “sure, but still, i kinda want to know how i died? i think i deserve to, you know, so maybe i don’t make the same dumb mistake back home.”

“-if you ever get home,” he corrects and you huff.

“whatever, just tell me. we don’t even know if your dumb alternate reality theory is right.”

“okay,” niki rubs his hands nervously and you wait in anticipation.

“well, it actually happened last thursday.”

you swallow. why was your heart rate picking up?

“at school. on, uh, the rooftop. no one witnessed it, and the cctv was broken so we don’t have any exact answers. but from what I’ve heard,” he gives you a cautious glance,

“the police are about ready to call it a suicide.”

at first, you think you misheard him. but the hesitant gaze and pause proves you otherwise.

at first it doesn’t hit you. but then suddenly you feel sick to your stomach. your hand grips the table for support as you try to take it all in.

you?

a suicide at school?

what about your family, your friends-

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head. “i… i would never-“

you slam your hands on the table, “i know myself. i would never do that.”

his face is grim and sympathetic, which you can feel the dislike churn in your stomach at that. “i’m really sorry… that’s the current situation. it kinda blew up at school, but everything’s still so recent that nothing is confirmed yet.“

unspoken words linger in the back of his head, that he questions if he should say it or not.

that niki really didn’t know you that well, that you were just another classmate of his. one that he passed in the halls without a second glance back. that the you in his world-

was just a stranger to him.

yet seeing you, desperate and alive, right in front of his eyes. he doesn’t know what to do or say. so niki watches you bury your head in your hands. and he waits.

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you look up. his face morphs into one of surprise when he sees your determined expression.

“niki,” you state carefully and he nods, waiting patiently.

“are you sure that i-i did it?”

you can’t bring yourself to say the word but niki gets it. he sighs,

“no. no one’s sure. but from what i’ve heard, the police haven’t found any other motives so… a suicide seemed most likely.” the more and more niki talked, the more unsure he got.

your face hardens.

“so there’s no proof? the police aren’t doing their freaking job and investigating?”

his eyes widen—surprised at your sudden outburst—and you sigh, voice falling to a whisper.

“did i really commit suicide? and why do i care so much?”

something warm falls over your hand and you jump, glancing up.

even for only a split second, his hand covers yours in a sympathetic attempt, “i’m sorry y/n. i wish i had answers but i really don’t know…”

despite the awkward look on niki’s face and overall awkward situation, his words strangely comfort you.

you bite your bottom lip. “i-i have to get to my house.”

he stiffens, “what?”

you stare at him, eyes sharp, “if no one else is going to do something, i at least have to.”

you need to. for yourself.

niki scoots closer, “y/n, you can’t just-“

“i know. but i need to know. something just-ugh,” you rub your face in frustration, “something doesn’t add up. i have to check. it’s like i can feel it deep within me.”

he sits there wordlessly. when you don’t get a response, you stand up. niki splutters, “w-where are you going?”

you cross your arms, “without or without you, i’m going to my house.”

he slaps a hand to his face in frustration. “just how stubborn are you?” he mumbles. you hear it and yet you decide to ignore him.

“thanks for the help i guess,” you give him a (weak) half-smile before turning towards the door

“wait! you’re being serious?!”

his desperate voice calls out and you internally debate if you should listen to him or not. slowly, you turn back around, “yeah. do you need something?”

“no, but you do— a plan. especially since the police closed off your house for investigation. plus, most of the evidence would have been taken already.” he clasps his hands together behind his back.

you shrug. “okay, and? i’ll still find a way. i have nothing to lose. i’m not even supposed to be alive.”

he groans loudly and you raise an eyebrow.

“idiot. i’m trying to say that i’ll help you. i-i want to help you.”

“i didn’t ask,” you raise your hands in mock surrender. annoyed, niki puts his hands on his hips.

“sure, but i know plenty of things you don’t. this is my world. so, are you gonna accept or not?”

“you wish you did,” you retort, yet you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face, “but… i would appreciate it. just be grateful that i’m accepting your dumb theory from a spider-man movie as of right now.”

niki gulps at the sight. it was the first time he saw you smile since you met. at least, the first smile he saw from the you of an alternate universe.

“whatever you say,” he holds out a hand,

“miss imposter.”

you take it gladly, harshly. “don’t call me that-“

“my name is y/n y/l/n.”

you spin around in niki’s chair, having went up to his room to figure out your so called master plan. niki (respectfully) offered to let you stay in his room for the length of your “visit.”

to which you almost punched him.

but he explained that there were no extra guest rooms and you were still technically dead, so hiding in his room was the best bet as to not raise any questions. you could take the makeshift bed in the corner of his room as to not raise suspicion. you were surprised yet grateful.

“i’ll grab extra blankets and pillows. and i’ll sneak you food and whatever you need.”

“what about clothes and toiletries?”

he yawns, “easy. i’ll steal some from my sisters.”

you feel bad, but you realize you have no other choice. you were literally stuck here.

a part of you still wondered if this was a dream. a horrible one, at the least. but while you were stuck here, might as well make the best of it. niki graciously offered and you had no choice but to accept. you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“so basically, i’m like a secret pet you’re hiding from your parents?”

“technically… yes,” niki rubs his hands together, and you can only watch the mischievous expression grow on his face.

“but i like to think that you’re like eleven. you’re different—you’re special, like her.”

you hold back a laugh at the words.

clearing your throat, you try to play it off. “from stranger things? your world has that show too?” he lets out a scandalous gasp and this time you giggle.

“of course, dude. what kind of world would i be living in if i didn’t have stranger things?”

“apparently a horrible one,” you snort.

after the whole living situation was sorted out, you returned to your investigation.

“so you’re saying the police taped off my house for further examination?”

“uh, yeah? that’s how it works?” he raises a brow.

you stuck your tongue out at him, “okay, smartass. then how do we get in?”

“clearly, there’s only one way: sneak in.”

“i don’t think this is a good idea?” niki whisper shouts at you and you shush him.

the sun was barely setting. if anyone knew you, they knew you really couldn’t be deemed as patient of any sort.

niki watches you struggle up the tree in your backyard.

obviously, going through the front door was a no go. luckily this house looked pretty much the same as your house, at least from the outside. you knew your parents weren’t home judging by the darkness. you wondered if they were staying with other family.

or were they at work? so soon after your death?

you grimace, now was not the time to be getting in your feelings.

the best (only) option was jumping the backyard fence and going in through your bedroom window. leading to your predicament now.

you exhale heavily when you find a place to rest, gripping the tree with all your might in hopes that you don’t fall

you glance down at niki.

“can you make it?”

he scoffs,

“easy.”

it was easy— easy for you to watch niki struggle to get up to your point.

you were sort of scared the tree wasn’t going to support both your weights, at the way it was trembling slightly. niki makes it though, by the time the sun is well down.

you can see him sweating heavily and your nose scrunches in amusement,“easy, huh?”

“yeah, for you just standing there and watching me. we don’t have all day, grandma.”

“don’t call me that,” you mutter while stretching out towards your window.

niki’s eyes widen.

“be careful, y/n.”

“i got it,” you stretch out a leg to the ledge and your sweaty hands begin to slide from the bark, most likely from exertion.

without even thinking about it, niki places his hands around your waist to stabilize you. you don’t notice in your concentration to not fall to your death. you certainly didn’t want another dead you.

your foot clicks the lock, and with a grunt you’re able to push the window open.

“you got it?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, clumsily making your way in. you reach out a hand for niki and he takes it, maneuvering his long body in through the small window.

finally, you can breathe.

it’s the first time you have the luxury to desperately wish that you were home right now. your real home. you certainly didn’t mean this home, the empty and cold looking one locked up for the police’s investigation.

after catching your breath, you get up to examine your surroundings. you weren’t not sure what you were expecting. this was the other you’s room.

all you can think is, at least this y/n was much cleaner than you.

a part of you feels like you’re invading someone’s privacy. but then you realize that it’s literally your own privacy that you’re invading, with the addition of niki. you actually can’t believe the absurdity of the situation.

at first glance the room looks pretty normal, an average teenagers room. not what you expected for yourself, but there’s not much you can see. you turn to niki,

“there’s no shot we’ll get caught right?”

he gives you another sympathetic look, “we’ll keep a look out for the police, but i heard your parents were busy with your other family and funeral preparations, so it wouldn’t be them catching us.”

“oh.”

the air feels so glum, you clear your throat to move on. “guess we should look around?”

he nods and begins to snoop around.

“wait,” you call out hesitantly.

niki cocks his head and you cough awkwardly.

“it’s still my room, so like, be careful with what you look through.”

he rolls his eyes. “yeah. i got it.”

you gaze at the photos on your shelf, displaying your happy family and friends. it just made you acknowledge how precious they were. it made you miss your friends and family at home even more.

you’re appalled at the books you read. you shake your head, seriously? you take out one of the books-

“ten days to love,” you voice aloud with disgust written across your face.

you weren’t one to judge, but what kind of cheesy romance novels were you reading?

niki opens your closet and you turn at the sound. your eyes widen-

wait a second,

your closet with clothes? possibly including…. more personal things?

you dash over in desperation, praying that niki hasn’t already seen something that he shouldn’t.

“don’t!”

his wide eyes meet your panicked ones, shocked at the sudden change of events. he doesn’t move until you push past him, blocking the door from his view.

“you didn’t see anything, right?” you stare at niki desperately and he furrows his eyebrows.

“no? am i not supposed-“

“no reason. just being cautious. we can, uh, open it together.”

you carefully examine your belongings inside before deeming it safe for niki’s eyes. you let out a sigh of relief.

he gives you a weird look and you shoot him an exaggerated smile.

“you can proceed!”

he mutters something under his breath as you continue your search on the other side of the room. it didn’t seem like there was anything of importance on the shelves. but, after careful examination, you see a glimpse of something. pushing past some folders, your face morphs into a stunned one.

you pull out…

a pink teddy bear with hearts? why would this be in your room?

and even more so, why was it hidden?

niki calls out your name and you turn around. your mouth drops open.

“a box of chocolates?“

he scoffs, “yeah. stuffed behind some clothes in your closet for some reason.”

“it’s not even the good brand,” you mutter.

niki laughs, “maybe you had secret admirers from school?” suddenly, you give him a suspicious glance.

“what makes you say that? you sure you weren’t one of them?”

he side eyes you, “trust me, you wouldn’t catch me within five feet of you at school.”

you walk over to shove his arm and he only laughs harder. you huff, suppressing a smile on your face as you turn away. but you keep niki’s comment in the back of your mind.

after a solid thirty minutes, you can feel your resolve waning. there was no sign indicating that you felt suicidal. at least, none that you found after the police probably scrounged through everything. some stuff was suspicious—

like the teddy bear and chocolates. and some lavish perfume and makeup in the drawers. that just wasn’t your style. but you supposed this world’s you was just different.

just because you weren’t particularly into those things didn’t mean another you couldn’t be.

“did i have a diary? what about my phone?”

niki frowns, “the police would’ve taken it. it’s their evidence now.”

you suddenly get an idea, and it’s probably wasn’t a good one.

“hey, niki?” you call out. he hums in response.

“what day and time is it, currently?”

“uh…” he checks his watch, “sunday. 8pm. why?”

“when does the police station close?”

dummy, most people would say--why would the police station be closed?

luck seemed to be on your side, because you knew especially well from complaints by locals, that your local police station did actually have a curfew. and you could only hope it was the same here.

niki scratches his head, “in ten minutes? why are-“

his mouth drops open, “no. no. no.” you shrug and he shakes his head adamantly, “y/n, there’s no way that we’re going to sneak in.”

you dust off your hands, “i’m all ears for any other ideas you have.”

you have him at that and he falls silent. after a couple moments, he speaks up albeit hesitantly. “well… i might have a way.“

you grin. “onwards, then.”

“wait, so how did you manage to get access again?”

he coughs, “my friend jungwon is the son of the police deputy chief… so i may have called in for a favor.”

“he managed to sneak in with his dad’s keys and get the files to my case?” you finish.

he nods.

“illegally?”

he nods again.

you tap your chin, “would we get arrested if we got caught?”

he shrugs, “probably.”

“good thing i’m not from this world.”

perhaps secretly hanging outside this jungwon’s house was not the best idea, either. he rolls his eyes before offering the file to you.

“do you want to open it?” to your surprise, his voice comes out quite comforting and soft.

you gulp, “i guess i should.”

you feel sick for the second time that day. luckily, the photo didn’t show too much. not that it made it any better. it was still you, dead.

you had to look at yourself and imagine yourself in that situation. you cover your mouth and niki immediately takes the file away from you. he watches worriedly as you shake your head.

“i’m fine. i-is there anything else your friend managed to get?”

“are you sure?”

“yes.” he doesn’t protest anymore at the tone of finality in your voice.

niki pulls out a bag with your name on it. taking a deep breath in, you open it. you shuffle through some things hurriedly until niki speaks up.

“hold on a sec,” he softly places a hand on your arm to stop your actions.

“we should be careful. someone could notice that we tampered with the evidence so we need to be very careful when putting things back. plus, we have to give it back to him as soon as possible—we don’t want them noticing that your stuff is missing.”

you curse, “that’s right. we can’t risk taking anything.”

“then what?”

you pinch your nose bridge, “we snap pictures and hope it’s good enough. unless we want to take another field trip here.”

you manage to snap a few pictures and go through a few things. you catch a glimpse of your diary and flip to the most recent page. it was about a week and a half ago, and-

it wasn’t finished. you skim through it, reading boring stuff about how your day was and how you met-

you squint.

the rest of the words were scratched out, harshly, with a black marker. seeing how it was getting late and dark, you can’t make out who’s name it was even with your phone flashlight. you wonder, could it be-

your thoughts are interrupted by niki.

“y/n, i think we need to hurry and head home soon. the longer we stay out, the greater risk we’re at for getting caught. oh, and i found your phone.”

he holds it up and the extremely glittery case makes your eyes hurt. you eye it. heaving a deep breath, you prepare yourself to open your phone.

but when you click the power button and nothing happens, you groan. you try again, and again, holding it down for seconds but the screen remains black.

“the phone’s dead.” you sigh again and niki bites his lip.

“maybe we should give up. we can ask jungwon another time,” he suggests

you nod wearily and he closes the box. as he gathers everything, opening his phone to text his friend to come back out, you glance at the time. it was quite late for a school day.

“that’s right, you have school tomorrow?”

he groans, “yeah. i guess you’ll just have to stay home in my room. no one will go in while i’m at school, so you don’t have to worry.”

you nod, “okay.”

it felt weird knowing you were supposed to be at home, in bed and preparing to go to school yourself the next day. instead, you were stuck in another world—in a stranger’s room, forced to hide since you were supposed to be dead.

were you considered missed at home? did anyone notice? call the cops?

more like, if anyone cared?

while you get ready for bed in niki’s bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror.

yes, you affirm, you’re alive.

you’re staring back at yourself, dressed in one of niki’s oversized shirts and basketball shorts.

but the image of your dead face flashes in your mind and you immediately squeeze your eyes shut. you breathe heavily, hands planted on the sides of the sink.

everything’s fine. you will get back home. things will figure themselves out. you’re okay. you’re breathing and-

a knock on the door makes you jump.

“y/n? everything okay?” niki’s voice sounds out hesitantly, “it seemed like you were taking a while so-“

the door swings open.

you stand there, face emotionless. he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. niki tries to keep the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head, but it won’t seem to go away.

“goodnight, niki.”

you slowly walk over to the temporary bed he’s set up on the floor for you. he blinks,

“night, y/n.”

it’s surprisingly comfortable, or maybe you’re just so exhausted you don’t seem to care or question anything anymore.

you hear light footsteps padding to turn off the lights.

in the darkness, your eyes close. but your mind is awake.

you know his is too, judging by the sounds of quite shuffling every couple minutes or so.

“niki?” you say quietly.

another shuffle.

“yeah?”

“this may sound weird, but have you noticed anyone that looked particularly sad?”

there’s a pause.

“about you?”

“yeah, but not like the typical sadness. like, anyone who seems to have changed drastically after hearing about me? let’s say,” you swallow, “any guys or friends of yours who seemed particularly upset or affected?”

niki rolls to the other side of his bed so that he faces you, but in the darkness he can only see the outline of your figure. “y/n, what are you trying to say?”

you tug the covers over yourself a little tighter.

“nevermind, niki. have a good day at school tomorrow, and don’t worry about waking me up. you won’t be able to.”

“wasn’t planning on it,” he snorts.

you fall asleep with a faint smile still lingering on your face.

the next day at school, niki struggles. he struggles when it’s supposed to be another normal day, and all he can think about is you.

especially about what you said.

niki never paid much attention before to his surroundings, there was no reason to. but now he keeps an eye open.

he eyed anyone who passed by your locker, empty desk in class, anyone who mentioned your name. but the fact that you mentioned guys specifically, made him confused.

why did it matter if a guy was upset? a lot of people were shocked and sad at the news. niki shook his head. he didn’t get it.

meanwhile, you stayed at his home.

thinking.

thinking about yesterday. somehow everything that happened was all just yesterday. you took the train and ended up here. then you found out you were apparently dead.

you spent what felt like hours scrolling through the photos you took and waiting for niki to come home. all while eating snacks that niki left for you graciously.

you don’t even know what time it is when you hear the door begin to open. you scramble to your feet before realizing that there was a chance it wasn’t niki.

you go back to your hiding spot, shrinking underneath the covers. next thing you know, the bedroom door flings open. you tense.

however, a call of your name allows you to let out a sigh of relief. you hop up, “niki!”

he grins, looking rather cute in his ruffled school uniform, backpack slung off one shoulder. you stop yourself, horrified at your thought. at your face falling, he cocks his head. “what’s wrong?”

you laugh awkwardly, “nothing! nothing at all!”

he gives you an unconvinced look but doesn’t press further.

“you must’ve been bored without me.”

that was the niki you’ve come to know (in the span of a day or so). sarcasm drips from your lips as you laugh dryly, “sure.”

but you knew he was right and he knew it too.

“i spent the day looking through the pictures, but i couldn’t find much else,” you frown.

“same here. today was pretty normal, no one seemed any different than usual…”

“i mean, the mood has been somber ever since you,” he pauses, “left. but nothing out of the ordinary.”

you seemingly deflate, but niki perks up. “i talked to jungwon and he said he’s going to try and get your phone next time. we can only hope that someone charges it or that we can charge it ourselves.”

you nod, “that’s good.”

“but, don’t you have work to do? what about your family?”

you realized you didn’t see or even hear of them yesterday.

“oh, they usually stay late at the dance academy—me included. but my grades haven’t been good recently, so they’ve been forcing me to go to home and study…”

you tsk as niki gives you a sheepish look.

“you know, while we’re waiting, i’m not too bad at studying myself. what do you need help with?”

niki rolls his eyes, “thanks, but no thanks. i don’t need another person on my back about my grades.”

instead, he falls back onto his bed with an oof.

“don’t worry, i’ll manage. let’s just talk about our next step.

“step? as in, my case?

“yeah,“ his eyes glint, “i have an idea.”

you were starting to believe he was getting more invested in this than you were.

“okay—shoot.”

what was the worse thing he could suggest?

“we should sneak you into school-“

your eyes practically bulge as you gape at him. “excuse me? weren’t you the one saying i was going too far with sneaking into my own house and you want me to do what?”

niki gets up, placing his arms on your shoulders to calm you. strangely enough, it did.

“hear me out first—we sneak into school at night, bust open your locker, and see what you have. that’s better than waiting for jungwon.”

“don’t you think the police would have already looked through my locker?

“well, he looks around nervously, “as far as i’ve heard, the police were already mostly convinced the case was closed and didn’t care to check. but, what can i say? rumors are just rumors.”

you purse your lips. what did you have to lose? being in a different world made you much more reckless than you would have ever thought. but that didn’t mean you were going to be stupid about it.

“fine.”

niki winces at your tone, but you speak up,

“how in this stupid multiverse crap am i going to break into my own locker? and with cameras all around school?

he smirks and you raise an eyebrow.

“i didn’t miss a whole chem lecture for nothing—“

confused, you give him a look as if to say, what in the world are you talking about?

“who said we had to know the combination?” he takes out a pair of keys form his pocket.

you gasp in awe, clasping a hand over your mouth.

you gaze at him with wide eyes for a second, causing him to look at you questioningly.

“you’re actually being smart...”

his confused expression immediately changes to one of irritation.

you stand up straight again, “how did you even get those keys? and what about the cameras?”

he winks and you glance at him, trying to remain expressionless. if there was anything you noticed, it was that niki was actually quite attractive. it made you wonder if he was popular at school…

“it’s a secret. don’t worry about it.”

“you sure have a lot of secrets, niki. like, is niki even your real name?” you squint accusingly.

niki chokes on his spit, “how in the world did you know?”

you falter. “huh? it isn’t?”

he clears his throat, “anyway, i have to get up early for school tomorrow.”

you eye him but decide to let it go. niki shrugs, “usually i’m up playing games, but you look like you need the sleep with those eye bags. you aren’t surprised.

“tomorrow night,” he says shortly after. “i’ve got a plan—you just have to trust me.”

turns out said plan was dumb, but you really had no other choice.

niki made some lame excuse to his teachers about staying late to study- and his teachers, being utterly shocked that he offered to study, immediately agreed to let him linger.

meanwhile, niki would sneak you in, wearing one of his old uniforms that was too small for him so that just in case, no one would question anything. along with one of his totally inconspicuous baseball caps to hide your face and hair.

you sigh, you couldn't believe you were sneaking into school through the boys bathroom. you groan while maneuvering through the window. niki shushes you, causing you to stick your tongue out at him. he raises his hands playfully and you resist the urge to smack him.

on your way to jump down from the window, your left foot gets caught on the ledge. you stumble forward, expecting to be met with the revolting bathroom floor face first. instead, perhaps now was the time to thank the universe (in this case, his universe?) for niki’s quick reflexes.

he inhales, catching you by catching and pulling you towards him instead of the ground, essentially into his arms.

instead of faceplanting into the ground rather foolishly, you fall into his strangely soft and warm chest. you let out a barely discernible squeak, unable to respond due to the pounding of your heart.

after a couple of seconds—that felt like forever— niki lets you go with a shake of his head.

“my god y/n, i had no clue you were this clumsy. please don’t ever do that again.”

please don’t ever make me sneak into a nasty teenage bathroom again, you wish you could retort.

you shake your head quickly, lips pressed thinly together. don’t get distracted, you remind yourself. “yeah-thanks. let’s uh, just hurry.“

you don’t have time to wonder what would the consequences be if you got caught by cameras or anyone else while niki leads you down the familiar hallways.

“how do you know which one’s my locker? i thought you said we didn’t really know each other?“ you eye him suspiciously.

he scoffs, “don’t get too excited. mine’s just a couple lockers down so i was bound to see you at your locker by some point.”

he hands you the keys and you gratefully accept—your hands slightly trembling. you didn’t know what to expect.

niki watches from behind, and you can feel his warm breath on you occasionally, causing you to shiver.

with a slight click and creak of the rusty locker door, the locker opens. you hold your breath at first glance. it’s…. normal?

normal as in any average high schoolers locker one would expect. what catches your eye first are a couple of photos of you and your friends.

on deeper inspection of yourself (it was still weird to imagine and even weirder to see) you see a twinkling, intricate chain around your neck. maybe you were tripping (again, but mentally this time) or that necklace you had on seems really expensive?

“there’s no way,” you suddenly gasp and turn to niki with wide eyes.

“what?” niki starts to panic, “what is it?”

“am i actually loaded in this world?”

niki pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “jesus, you scared me. i mean, you didn’t seem like it.. who knows where you got that super expensive, luxury brand necklace? it looks familiar…“

you try your hardest not to roll your eyes. of course, niki would know.

“how much are you talking?”

he taps his foot on the floor, “well, my mom and sister likes that brand. that specific necklace is specially made since it’s a seasonal limited edition, so it’s somewhere in the thousands-“

you truly forgot how rich niki’s family was, you think with a half joking tch and a shake of your head. niki glances at you, impressed.

“-whoever gave that to you must’ve really cared.”

you frown, “sure… or maybe i just really worked hard to get it for myself?”

he’s shoots you an amused look, “you wanted to get yourself the valentine day’s collection necklace?

“what?”

you feel your heart rate begin to pick up, “are you implying what i think you are?

“yes?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, “someone must’ve been really in love with you to gift you that. maybe your parents or friends?”

then niki pokes your side playfully, “-or a secret admirer?”

you don’t answer his question, regardless of if he was being serious or not. you peer into the locker again, “but where is it? it’s so valuable i’m certain we would’ve seen it in the police’s evidence…”

suddenly, niki grabs your wrist. that’s when you hear the footsteps. you turn to him with wide eyes as he mouths for you to hide. panicking, you look around in desperation before he pushes you—

straight into the locker.

your own locker.

you know you should be freaking out over getting caught, but you could only wonder—could this be considered a crime?

in the dark, stuffy locker, you see a glimpse of niki’s silhouette run past through the tiny openings of the door. just barely a second later, you hear more footsteps. squinting, you able to discern a familiar, yet weirdly unfamiliar guy. your eyebrows raise.

no way. park sunghoon was in this world too?

you hold your breath when you hear him call out, “is someone there?”

really, curse niki for shoving you in your own locker. yet it was also a smart move as no one could see into your locker, but you were able to see out.

“sorry. that was me, pres.”

it was niki’s voice.

you can barely see his relaxed demeanor appearing to face sunghoon.

“i was staying back to study and catch up on work—you know already,” he adds hastily.

sunghoon nods coolly, “i was just checking. making sure everything’s good before leaving.”

niki was a little too good at acting, you questioned how often he had done this to those around him. he fake salutes, “i promise to clean up after i’m done. no need to worry, class president.”

“alright, see you later.”

you have a sigh of relief as sunghoon turns to leave.

but you swear, for a split second, his expression changes as his eyes fall on your locker.

your heart rate picks up. did he notice you?

however, sunghoon leaves without a second look back.

you frown—what was that?

after waiting a minute to be safe, niki quickly lets you out. only to be greeted by your displeased face and crossed arms.

“that was the only thing i could think of in the moment!” he immediately defends himself.

“seriously? i could’ve-like-“ you trail off and niki smirks.

“see? nothing bad would’ve happened.”

“doesn’t change the fact you stuffed me in my locker. it’s not even mine, for crying out loud.”

“whatever. just be glad you didn’t get caught by park sunghoon, our school’s super rich, smart, and handsome-“

“i know him from my world. he’s irrelevant, let’s continue on.” you wave him off.

you can’t help but compare him to niki. niki was way more genuine and… boyish in a way? he felt real. you preferred that. not to mention he had a much more tolerable presence, you supposed.

everything else in the locker was useless. random crappy notes, perfumes and hand lotions, along with the pictures you already inspected were the only things that decorated your locker. no sign of that ridiculously expensive necklace.

you rub a hand over your face in exasperation. “that’s it…”

one thought still lingered in the back of your mind. where was the necklace?

“hey, y/n, i think we should get going soon. the lights are going to turn off soon-they’re automatic and we didn’t bring any flashlights.”

you sigh. next time.

it feels like you’ve hit a dead end. by the end of the week, niki has caught up on his studies. you were surprised to find that he was quite dedicated to school, even if it didn’t seem like it.

the days that niki came home with a pile of schoolwork and other duties, you went out to think—with one of niki’s hoodies and a mask on. but the times you spent with niki since you couldn’t go out much, mainly at night, were nice.

tutoring him at subjects he was struggling in, learning new dances together (and learning how talented he really was), simply being around him was enough to distract you from your impending crisis.

niki always came to keep you company and bring you food. you really were his eleven.

niki was gaming while you sat off to the side, watching him play. you admired his side profile, the shine from the bright computer screen enhancing his features, the furrow of his eyebrow as he focused.

he yells as his character dies and you can’t hold back your laughter, “you kinda suck-“

all of a sudden, you hear a knock on the door.

“bro, you good? i swear i heard another voice-“

the door handle begins to turn.

you and niki share a look of panic.

your first instinct is to dive and roll, underneath niki’s bed. you ignore the fact that it’s as dusty as you’d expect for a teenage boy’s room and hold your breath.

“mom said dinner is ready. also, what’s with all the noise? it sounded like someone else was in the room with you.” a girls voice—niki’s older sister, you presume.

“nope. just me.”

you cringe at the fact that niki’s voice is octaves higher. it wouldn’t be that much of a problem if his voice wasn’t as deep as it normally was.

“it was just probably the video i was playing.”

“…sure,” you hear his sister’s footsteps as she leaves and shuts the door behind her.

you let out an exhale of relief.

“y/n?” you hear soon after.

“under here.”

you turn to see niki’s head peeking down underneath the bed.

you meet his curious eyes. cute.

“jeez.” he holds a hand out and you gladly accept it, letting him pull you up with ease. huffing, you dust yourself off.

“jeez, indeed. who knows what horrors you’ve been hiding under there.”

“hey,” niki defends himself, “i’ll have you know i am a very clean person and don’t-“

“oh really? then what’s this?” you hold up the sacred item, jerking your hand back as he reaches out to snatch it.

“hey! haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

he lunges again as you laugh, just keeping it out of his grasp. however, you feel the bed frame hit your legs, and you gasp.

you fall back, niki over you on his bed. he must’ve underestimated his arm-span and overestimated yours.

niki lands over you with a soft grunt, eyes wide. you peer up at him wordlessly. his arms catch him, but it’s still so close you can feel his hair tickle your forehead.

is this what the movies mean when your heart… skips a beat?

niki snaps out of his trance, “s-sorry,” he hastily gets up. you cough, trying to dispel the stuffy atmosphere.

“so, uh, i had an idea.”

“yeah? what’s up?”

“i was thinking we look at the evidence again. i just want to double check something.”

“come on,” you take niki’s hand. it was habitual by this point.

“you got the charger, right?”

niki nods, taking it out of his pocket.

it was risky asking niki’s friend to retrieve the evidence for you again, but you needed to confirm your suspicions. or, hit a dead end.

when niki returns, carefully holding a plastic bag (and dinner, your grumbling stomach reminds you), your eyes zero in on one thing.

“thanks. i know it must be hard for your friend to sneak behind his dad’s back like that.”

“it’s fine,” niki shrugs, “i promised to buy him lunch for the next week.”

you snort as you take out “your” phone and plug it into the charger.

“okay. now we wait.”

niki looks at you expectantly, and you only stare at him back. subconsciously, a hand raises to your face. “is there something wrong?”

he shakes his head while looking away sheepishly, “nothing, nothing.”

you open your mouth to question him further, but the phone screen flashes. you scramble to open it. thankfully you were able to use your own face id.

as soon as you scroll through your messages, your stomach sinks. you raise a hand to cover your mouth.

“what?” niki jumps up, “what did you find?”

you open the photos app, which only confirms everything. you drop the phone, and that’s when niki sees it.

“oh my god.”

“don’t even-“

“i was secretly dating park sunghoon?!”

you cup a hand over your mouth. “i think i’m gonna be sick.”

niki scoffs, taken aback. “b-but how? you- and him-?”

you rub a hand over your face. “don’t ask me. but the valentines gifts and necklace were so suspicious, i started wondering… i just didn’t expect it to be him.”

niki notices the sour expression on your face.

“oh. you don’t like him?”

you shake your head vehemently, “bro, not even if he and i were the last two people on earth.”

you think about your world’s sunghoon and almost shudder. he was selfish, arrogant, could but would never keep a girl for more than two weeks. yet the whole class still loved him and you never understood it, never understood the appeal of him.

besides getting bro-zoned, niki relished your words.

“good to know.”

“i wish i didn’t,” you sigh.

but that was besides the point. you still didn’t know how it all added up. did sunghoon—unfortunately, your boyfriend in this world—have anything to do with your death? did he really get you that expensive necklace?

and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t rule it out. thinking as rationally and fairly as possible, suicide was likely-as much as you didn’t believe it. you couldn’t rule it out simply based on a feeling. plus, his expression when he passed by your locker lingered in your mind.

“so, now what?” niki watches you carefully.

“you’ve heard of the saying, keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

“yeah,” he cocks an eyebrow, “why?”

“well, i’ve got a task for you.”

niki has never spoken a word to your friend group in his entire life. the most he’s ever done was send a cold look their way and pretend not to know them out in public.

he had nothing against them—nothing against your choice of friends—but he preferred not to associate with your group. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he just didn’t vibe with them.

and yet here he was, talking to your “friends” because you asked him to. he sighed, the things he did for you.

danielle looks him up and down with her arms crossed. “why are you asking about y/n? since when did you care about them?”

“please,” he sighs in exasperation, “i just need to know if anyone disliked y/n or was acting suspicious around them.”

haerin steps up, an annoyed frown on her face. “there’s no one. can’t you tell this is a touchy subject for us? now, leave us alone.”

she grabs danielle and walks off, angrily whispering into a distressed looking danielle’s ears.

niki wants to punch someone. besides the fact that surrounding people were catching onto his conversation and whispering about the interaction, he essentially got nothing out of it.

you were also at a dead end. after scrolling through hundreds of disgusting texts and photos of you and sunghoon, there was nothing remotely suspicious. plus, you had to give your phone back to jungwon soon before anyone noticed it was missing.

everything seemed normal. everything was normal. normal until this world’s you suddenly died.

the only lead you had was the missing necklace. and yet where were you supposed to find it? it could be anywhere—in the police’s hands, with sunghoon, most likely gone.

you couldn’t even go out on your own, you felt like a hopeless rapunzel trapped in her tower, desperately wishing for answers and freedom. it was starting to get to you. the stress, homesickness, and most of all, loneliness.

you throw your phone to the side and bury your face in your hands, trying your best to focus on your breathing. you almost don’t realize how long it’s been until you hear a faint call of your name.

“y/n? y/n, what’s wrong?” niki drops his backpack and rushes to your side.

his eyes carefully examine your body, checking for who knows what. you slowly lower your hands, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face.

what scared niki the most was the lost look in your eyes, a deep and dark pool void of any emotion.

“niki… i don’t think i can do this anymore,” your words float out carefully, like a whisper of the wind.

“i’m trying my hardest, but it’s so frustrating. i miss my home, i miss my life. i miss myself.” as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel yourself break down. and right as you do so, niki reaches forward to wrap you in an embrace.

“i want to go home,” you whisper in an small voice.

his heart almost breaks at the sight. you sounded like a little kid—you looked like you were a little kid again, as small and curled up you were when he found you. in his eyes, he saw a lost child looking for their parents, their guidance and their own light in the world.

he resolves to never be the cause of your pain again.

niki holds you for the entire night as you cry and drift off to sleep.

you wake up with a headache and a dry throat. you feel hungover, although you’ve basically never drank alcohol before.

somehow, you’re not sure exactly when, you ended up in niki’s bed. as soon as you’re able to sit up, your eyes fall on the clock on the bedside table.

11 am. niki must be at school still, you note.

you wonder what he’s up to, if he was being a good student while you were stuck all alone at his home, skipping your own school. you wonder what life is like back at home. did time even pass?

niki heads home as soon as the bell rings. he wanted to see you, to comfort you and reassure you. he wanted you to be okay.

when he knocks on his own bedroom door and there’s no response, he frowns. all there’s left is a pink sticky note on his desk.

went out for fresh air. don’t worry and don’t look for me.

niki immediately drops his stuff and runs out. he goes to the train station, the bookstore. he even goes back to school, for crying out loud.

he’s breathless and exhausted by the time he’s arrived back home. niki knows his family won’t be back. it was competition season, which meant the busiest time of the year for the other dancers. you were the sole reason he attended school at this time of the year, studying hard instead of skipping and dancing 18 hours each day.

he’s scared.

niki hasn’t felt this feeling in a long time—he can only recall the time where he was six and went to disney world. his older sister was pressuring him into riding one of the larger roller coasters, and he felt that sickening nausea fill him as he looked up at the towering structure.

he almost gives up. he basically has, until he notices something strange. his balcony door is unlocked, and he always kept it locked for safety purposes.

tense, niki reaches out and slowly turns the handle. what greets him is certainly not what he expected.

you sit on the balcony railing, hanging over the edge quite precariously with your feet swinging. one slight mistake and you would fall.

you stare down at the passing cars, cloudy and dreary skies showing you it was soon to rain.

niki stares at you, and you turn around at the sound of the door to stare back, not a single word exchanged.

then you finally break the eye contact, glancing down at your stilled feet. “i wasn’t going to do it.”

he silently moves closer, hopping next to you on the railing as well. “okay.”

you don’t see the tender way his eyes travel over you. your voice is quiet as you speak up, “you don’t have to say anything.”

“okay,” niki repeats.

it’s not said in a sarcastic way. it’s not sad, either. it’s just..... soft. soft and understanding enough to make a blanket of comfort fall around you, to make it known that niki’s presence is here by your side.

suddenly, the rains starts and niki asks if you want to go down. you slowly nod and he helps you safely off the railing before opening the door for you guys go out in the rain.

the rain doesn’t stop.

and niki doesn’t stop either. he grabs your hand, dragging you along with him haphazardly.

“where are we going?” you ask breathlessly.

“out. like most people our age. we’re still kids.”

“wow, i had no idea,” you mutter sarcastically.

he holds back a smile of relief. good to know you were still your usual self.

“you need a break. you’ve been so caught up in this case, you need to rest.”

“but-“

“come on,” he leads you on, “relax. it’ll give you a clear mind, so we can come back with a fresh start.”

you’re hesitant until he pulls up at an arcade. “what if someone sees me? what if they-“

niki places a finger over your lips, silencing you. “we’re here to have fun like everyone else and not give a crap about anything else. now, are you gonna play or are you gonna get your butt kicked by me?”

a challenge was a challenge.

you laugh at niki’s rambunctious side, yelling as he tries to cheat during competitive games and fight over the better toy gun.

“just so you know, i technically won.”

you playfully shove him, “in your dreams. you’re just saying that because you don’t want to-“

you get cut off by the loudest (and most embarrassing) grumble of your stomach. you both look down at your stomach. you look back up, petrified.

niki almost cackles, “i guess that’s a sign.”

“it’s not my fault i fell asleep before eating yesterday,” you pout.

“what do you want to eat?”

“anything. i’m serious.”

niki watches with a fond smile as you quite literally inhale your food.

“eat any faster, and you’ll make a new record.”

you flip him off as he laughs, putting more food onto your plate from his. you can only watch wordlessly, feeling your heart warm. after you finish eating, niki takes your hand again. you glance at him questioningly.

“there’s one last thing i wanted to do,” he mumbles while avoiding your gaze.

“how’s this one?”

you scrunch your nose in distaste at the sight, reaching to place red devil horns on niki’s head.

“i think this one fits you more.”

as he grumbles, you laugh.

“fine, but i get to choose yours.”

he ends up picking a frog headband for you—which you complain to no avail. his reasoning was, “you remind me of a frog. like the princess and the frog.”

you splutter, “but that means-“

“yes. i’m the princess.”

“obviously,” he adds.

in the photo booth, you sit awkwardly. niki cocks an eyebrow.

“i’ve never done this before, so…"

instead of teasing you like you originally assumed, niki only brings you closer. he wraps an arm around you while posing for the camera. you’re frozen, even as the countdown starts. you can barely manage a smile as the camera flashes.

“what now?”

niki glances at the screen, “we still have three more pictures. what poses do you want to do?”

you’re at a loss for words.

niki leans closer again. he makes a half heart with his hand as he looks at you expectantly. “how about a heart pose?”

“o-okay.”

you never felt so suffocated in that photo booth. and yet, you’ve never laughed harder. you’ve never been so happy in your life with someone else.

“hey, this photo came out good!”

“but what happened to the first one?”

you both lean in to get a closer look at the photos that printed, and you end up feeling niki’s breath on your cheek.

it was warm. it was nice to have someone so close to you and still feel comfortable. it was nice to know you were close enough to someone to feel that way.

it was something you had never felt before.

“..-y/n?”

“huh?” you snap out of your trance.

“i said, you can keep this copy.”

you look at the pictures and then at niki. “what? no, it’s fine-“

“i said keep it,” he forcefully shoves the photo into your hand as he quickly heads over to the cashier to pay.

you stand there for a minute, looking at the photos. you guys looked happy. you guys looked good…together. like you were a real couple, or something. you internally chide yourself while taking off your headband. what a silly thought, you brush off.

on the walk back home, you feel utterly satisfied, humming as you match your pace with niki’s.

“when we arrive, i’ll let you in through the back, just to be safe.”

“whatever you say, mr. responsible.”

he ruffles your hair and you swat his hand away in annoyance.

that night was the first night you’ve felt content. almost like you could stay here—like you belonged. you stare up at the dark ceiling, reflecting on the days events.

“niki?”

you hear his bed shift. “yeah?”

“i just wanted to say thanks. for everything. you’ve been providing everything for me, all while helping me on my case. i’m grateful for everything. i don’t know how, but i promise to pay you back one day.”

“what’s with the sudden sappiness?” his tone is teasing, but light. he clears his throat to add, “but yeah, of course.”

“i dunno, i guess i’m just not used to this type of treatment back home.”

“what? what do you mean?”

even in the dark, you can feel inquisitive stare on you.

“i mean, i’m usually left on my own since my parents are working. and my friends, well, they’re nice and all…”

“but you don’t feel a true connection?” he finishes, and you roll over.

“yeah. i don’t really know what my friends are like in this world. who even are my friends? do i even have any?”

niki grimaces.

“uh, yeah. i don’t know if they exist in your world, but have you heard of danielle? and haerin?”

“nope. what are they like?”

he shifts again, and the bed creaks. “you see, i don’t really talk to your friend group. it’s nothing personal, i just don’t want to associate with them.”

“dang, maybe it really is just a me problem, in every life too.”

you hadn’t thought about hanni and hyein since you got here. but danielle and haerin were two new leads. a new start, perhaps.

now that you had more information from niki, you started your research again. specifically, insta-stalking.

your specialty.

niki hands you his phone with a suspicious look when you casually ask for it. you pray he doesn’t hear the sound of blood rushing in your ears or the pounding of your heart.

as he goes to do his night time routine, you quickly tap on the instagram app and search up danielle’s name. it doesn’t take long for you to find her account since niki followed her. checking to make sure he didn’t come out of the bathroom, you scroll through her feed.

and your heart stops when you see it. in the corner of a photo—a picture of her and haerin posing at school in front of their lockers.

that’s your ridiculously expensive bracelet on danielle’s arm. you’re sure of it.

you felt yourself grow nauseous as you quickly turn off niki’s phone as soon as you hear the door turn.

“hey, are you okay? you look like you just saw a ghost..”

you blink and smile, peeking at him innocently, although the dread grows in the pit of your stomach. “huh? no. what are you talking about?”

“what were you doing on my phone?”

you look away sheepishly, “trying to see if i could call my mom?” maybe niki’s acting skills were rubbing off on you.

“oh, and?”

you shake your head, a fake grim expression plastered on your face.

that night, you lay awake staring into the darkness. when you hear niki’s soft snores, you sneak over to his bedside table to retrieve the key. you know you shouldn’t, but you felt this was something you needed to do alone.

you feel like you’re on the edge of the cliff, about to jump into the water. the adrenaline filled you, you were right there-

it was so close.

the next day, you have to pretend everything is okay. you smile when niki greets you good morning, even peck him on the cheek when he tells you he has to stop by the dance studio for the night.

he visibly blushes, stuttering on his words, “w-uh, w-what was that.. for..?”

you shrug, “i’m just proud of you for getting your grades up. it’s your first time back dancing in a while so have fun, okay?”

he nods, beaming as he squeezes your hand goodbye. as he leaves, your smile fades. it felt too normal. it felt too right to imagine having a life with niki, like this everyday.

and knowing what you knew now, it was wrong. it was wrong from the start, and yet you couldn't help yourself fall even deeper. you had to get back into the right mental state. you couldn't keep deluding yourself.

it was time to confront the truth.

you can’t believe you’re sneaking into through the school boy’s bathroom again. the locker key safely stored in your pocket, you find danielle’s locker. the same one from the photo she posted.

this had to be the one. you can only hold your breath and hope as you unlock it.

you quickly scramble through all the stuff, looking for the shiny bracelet. you don’t find it, but when you go to close the locker door in defeat, a crumpled up piece of paper falls onto the floor.

you huff, taking it and opening it up. it’s a picture of sunghoon, you, and danielle, all smiling as you three posed for the camera. but it wasn’t just an ordinary picture—there was a big, red “X” scribbled over your face, with the words “finally done” written next to it.

and hearts next to sunghoon’s face.

horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth.

during a break at the dance studio, niki doesn’t expect to open his instagram app and see danielle’s instagram show up on his recently searched. frowning, he taps on the account. he never cared to pay attention to danielle, so why was her account the last thing searched up?

just out of curiosity, he scrolls through her recent posts.

and then he sees it. something that is so hard to miss. it’s so strikingly familiar.

he rushes home. when niki bursts through the front door, he doesn’t expect to find you missing. and when niki notices his old school uniform and cap gone, his heart drops.

you sit on the floor next to the lockers with your head buried on top of your knees. you’re sure you could get caught, but you don’t care.

the crumpled picture feels heavy in your pocket.

you stay there, staring at the walls until you see the moon shining brightly outside one of the windows. you haven’t eaten or drank anything the whole day. you’re not sure how long it’s been.

“y/n!”

great, now you were hearing things as well?

furious footsteps stomp towards you.

“why did you leave without telling me? you could’ve gotten caught-it could’ve been dangerous?!”

“n-niki?” your eyes widen.

before saying anything else, he pulls you up to your feet.

“why would you come to school without me?”

for some reason, his words sting. you cross your arms, “what? like i can’t take care of myself?”

he groans, “that’s besides the point! if someone saw you—“

“i don’t care! so why do you care so—“

a sound from down the hall cuts you both off. you turn to niki in panic and he curses. “the custodian comes on weekends to clean.”

you hold back a yelp as niki grabs your wrist and pulls you along in the opposite direction.

he pushes through a door and turns to the left. you don’t stop until you’re inside the.. natatorium?

“why are we-“

“there are no cameras here, unlike in the school building. i thought you would’ve known that.”

after he speaks, there’s an awkward silence.

niki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “well, are you gonna tell me?”

you feel the frustration flow through your veins, “and what about you? you tell me why i have to let you know my every location? why i feel like i can’t take care of myself, l-like a sick, old dog who can’t go anywhere or do anything? i’m sick of it all!”

“you don’t understand,” his voice raises, and you interrupt him, getting closer and closer to him.

“you’re right, i don’t. i don’t understand why you helped me in the first place. you say that you barely knew who i was, yet here you are acting like you care! like you cared about the dead me!”

at this point, his face is so close to yours, you can feel your breaths mix as neither of you back down.

“i do care! of course i care! about you, standing right in front of me!” he clenches his fists. your eyes linger on a single vein on his neck that sticks out due to the intensity. the fire burning in his eyes, your trembling voices, it all makes you falter.

you don’t know what you asked. you know the truth. niki always cared—more than cared. he always went out of his way to search for you, like the day on the balcony and today. he wanted to find you, he wanted to have you in his life,

you realize it now. to put simply, he wanted you.

and this was the first time you felt wanted.

you don’t know what else to do, so you lean in and close the gap to kiss him. and if anything, niki immediately pulls you closer to him.

when you break apart for air, his dark eyes still staring deep into yours, you think he’s gonna lean back in again. but you hear a faint voice sound, growing louder. your eyes both widen. the janitor.

without a second thought, niki pushes you.

he does it lightly, although it’s still enough to make you lose your balance, and for a second you stare back at him, betrayal evident before you fall backwards—

straight into the pool.

your eyes just barely peek open in the water, and then there’s a splash accompanying yours a few seconds later.

he easily swims to you, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his once more. it was a much different experience from just a few seconds ago.

you stay entwined like that together, eyes squeezed shut, until you actually can’t breathe anymore and you have to smack niki’s arm. you both rise to the top, heaving water and air.

after a few seconds of coughing and gathering your bearings, niki’s raspy voice fills the air.

“at least he’s gone. i’ve always wanted to do that.”

you roll your eyes, splashing water back at him in revenge for pushing you earlier. “seriously? after we got almost got caught? we could’ve drowned!”

you splash him again, “also, you could’ve given me a heads up!”

he grins, wiping the running water free from his face. “and where’s the fun in that?”

you shake your head in amazement, “you’re actually an idiot. i can’t believe you, niki.”

“an idiot who saved us from getting caught.”

after returning home together, you sit and enjoy the peaceful silence as niki dries your hair. your mind can’t help but replay the last few moments, from finding the picture at school to kissing niki, and then finally get pushed into the pool. specifically, the kissing part.

growing sleepy at the soft and warm feeling of niki’s hands running through your hair, you almost don’t hear him when he says, “all done.”

you thank him and he looks around awkwardly.

“what is it?” you squint at him.

“well, i wanted to apologize. i didn’t mean to make to feel that way. i was just really worried about you, and i felt hurt you didn’t tell me why you snuck into school again today. did you not trust me? did i do something wrong?”

you soften, eyes falling to the floor.

“i’m so sorry, niki. i didn’t mean to lash out on you. of course i trust you, i just wanted to do something for myself for once. without needing your or anyone else’s help.”

you exhale, “the reason i left today was for this—“ you take the damp, crumpled picture and unfold it as best as you can.

niki’s hands fall to his side. “oh god.”

“it was danielle. she took my bracelet and i-i think she wanted my boyfriend. i know it has to be her.”

“w-what? but how?”

you shake your head. he goes to hug you.

you feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you won’t waste any tears on her. you pull back to look at niki, with a determined expression on your face.

“you have to catch her and make sure they get what they deserve.”

niki stares at you deeply, “are you sure? because if you are, i won’t stop.”

he wonders why you say you and not we.

at that, you falter.

“no. i never be sure because she is—was my best friend and i will always hold that guilt in me. but you have to do something about it.”

niki’s hold around you tightens, “and what about you?”

you smile, albeit sadly. “you know i can’t stay here, hiding away forever. i don’t belong here. i already existed in your world, and at some point, i have to leave soon. i can feel it.”

it was the same feeling as when you first came here. that day you felt off. the feeling that you don’t belong anywhere, but this time, you feel fulfilled. complete. like you were ready to go back home.

“it’s not something i can explain, but i know it,” you look at him with determined eyes.

and he looks back at you with pained ones.

niki is able to convince jungwon to get his dad to reinvestigate the case again. the picture is given up as evidence, and danielle and haerin are taken in.

the day they confessed out of guilt, you and niki celebrate by sneaking onto your school’s rooftop. the same place where it all started.

it’s a cold and windy night, but you could care less about getting sick. because it was your last day anyway.

you didn’t tell niki, but you had a good feeling—like the world was patting you on the back and saying, “you worked hard.”

the two of you watch the stars, snuggled up and reflecting on how your lives came to be like this. wondering how far away apart your worlds were.

you kiss niki’s cheek, wishing to remember the feeling of being in his arms forever. his scent, his touch, his warmth, you wish you could keep all of it. you smile at him, willing back the tears.

“there was a reason i bumped into you that day, of all people. there was a reason you came into my life, and i came into yours, niki.”

he bites his lip, “y/n... you changed my life. every day with you was better than the last.”

if this was a dream, you wouldn’t want to wake up. you trace his face, so it will remain ingrained in your mind forever, even when you go back to your world.

“what will happen when i leave?” you whisper.

“how will you even get back home?”

you shrug, “i don’t know how, but i know that i will.”

niki laughs, “that’s the y/n i know.”

as he kisses you once more, a star falls across the sky.

the next day, you find a ticket in your bag. a train ticket.

you don’t recall having bought one, and you don’t question niki. you only ask him to take you to the train station.

while walking hand and hand, you reminisce on the past month or so. “will we still remember this once you go back to your world?”

your body trembles, “i don’t know.”

“then… will i ever see you again?”

you don’t want to meet his eyes, because you know you’ll cry.

yes, you want to say. instead, you say, “ i don’t know.”

niki wipes a stray tear on your face. you don’t even know how you reached your stop already.

“this is it,” he says.

but neither of you move.

“don’t worry, even if i don’t remember you, you’ll always be in my heart. we’ll meet in your world,” he reminds you while the tears start falling down both of your faces.

“don’t forget that there’s another me out there to annoy you. you just need to search hard.”

you sniffle, playfully pushing him away as you furiously blink away the tears that blur your vision. you needed to soak up the sight of him as much of him as you could.

“i promise i’ll find you again.”

he holds onto you until the very end, until you slip out of his grasp once more.

crossing the platform into the train while giving him one last, slow wave was painful. the last thing you can think of is the fact that you never knew. you never asked for niki’s full name. his real one.

you never knew niki’s name.

and then everything fades into nothing.

that’s the last time niki ever sees you. the train passes by in a flash, blowing his bangs across his face while he tries his best to keep that fake smile on his face for you—all for you before you go.

then, you’re gone.

in those seconds as the train passes, niki knows exactly why he did it. why he helped you through all of it, through everything together.

all because you were there in class. you never looked at him, but he looked at you. he saw all of you, everyday—even if you didn’t know it. all your quirks and habits that he couldn’t help but find cute. you made his days interesting.

but he was the coward for never approaching you. that was his fault because one day, you weren’t there anymore.

and he had to pretend like nothing happened. on the outside, that’s how it was. even if he felt the slightest connection, tiniest pull towards you, you were still strangers.

you were strangers until you knocked into him on the train platform.

niki had to be selfish. he thinks it could have been fate that he saw you again, but now he’s just left with the lingering regret and feelings. those memories flash past like the train does. they come and go in the blink of an eye- a split second.

when the train is gone, niki frowns and wonders why he’s standing there.

he also wonders why it feels like there’s a piece of his heart missing.

after that, he attends your funeral in his world. it was an open funeral to everyone who wanted to come- classmates, friends, and him. niki didn’t even know you that well, but he get this unexpalaniable urge that he should go- he needs to go. he brings flowers and gets to see you one last time.

when niki sees the picture of your serene face, he can’t help but get this sense of peace, like everything’s resolved.

and then he’s free.

epilogue...

you sigh, trudging along the walkway on the way to work. looking at your surroundings, you were getting major deja vu. but at this point, you were used to having episodes like that.

there were many, many times where some things simply felt so familiar. but it was like your memory was wiped and you couldn’t remember why. some times you had flashes of an adventure, a feeling of mystery, a boy.

ever since some day in high school, it just happened. and from then on, you’ve always felt like something was missing. or wrong. you can’t tell. it became a part of you, to the point where you almost forgot about it. that feeling of misbelonging, being just out of reach. it’s strange, like a weird occurrence that makes you want to open your third eye or whatever to find out more.

even after graduating, it never left you.

you being so lost in your thoughts, fail to notice when you bump into someone coming off the train you were about to get onto.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly apologize, but you soon falter when you meet eyes with sparkling brown ones. weirdly enough, they draw you in.

they were familiar, you’ve certainly seen them somewhere. the moment lasts for a while, with the two of you standing still in the middle of the passway, staring at each other.

you slowly smile, extending a hand. “i apologize if i’m mistaken, but have we met before?”

he stares at you too, confused yet enthralled.

“i-i think you may be mistaken,” he starts hesitantly and you begin to apologize.

“are you sure?“ you quickly introduce yourself, “and you?”

you swore you were not such a desperate person, but you couldn’t help it, not this time and definitely not in front of this particularly alluring guy.

“me?”

he takes a quick glance at you before taking your hand with a small smile.

“my name is nishimura riki.”

first i wanted to say thank you for reading! this was a rough time coming, and i wanted to apologize for the long wait. this has actually been a wip of mine for years and i finally was able to finish it with riki after months and months of writing. this past year has been the worst one so far, but i'm just grateful to still be here. just feeling super appreciative for those who stuck with me and waited patiently. thank you. can't wait to see you guys again soon with the next oneshot (hint hint)!

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