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mingigoo · 3 months

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look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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babyleostuff · 1 day

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things they unconsciously do for you | ot13

[☁️] seungcheol

protecting you

choi seungcheol is a protector through and through (you could say that sometimes he’s a tad too protective, but it’s simply because he loves you so much and he would most likely end up with a meltdown if he saw you hurt). covering sharp corners, walking on the outside of the pavement, holding your hand in big crowds, cutting the meat for you - doing all of these things is like second nature for cheol. he never thinks about doing them, like “oh, they dropped their spoon, maybe i should cover the table corner so they don’t bump their head”. no no. he just does it, simple as that. and good luck to the person that tries to make you uncomfortable or invade your personal space because well… choi seungcheol will fight them

[☁️] jeonghan

wrapping you up with a scarf/ putting on beanie

jeonghan, as someone who gets cold easily, is very vary around the people around him being cold as well. he’s always more than happy to share some of his body heat with someone else, especially because hugging means more warmth. when it comes to you, though, there is no way you’re getting out of the house without a thick scarf and a beanie. it doesn’t matter if you get easily cold or not, jeonghan does not let you out of the house before you’re properly bundled up. the first thing he grabs when you’re getting ready to go out is your/ his scarf and a beanie, and he dresses you up like a mom dresses up a child, but there’s nothing you can do about it. and if you come to the practice room without anything wrapped around your neck, jeonghan is quick to change that, as he pulls out his own scarf to give it to you.

[☁️] joshua

ordering for you

sometimes being social - even if it’s just ordering food - can be overwhelming, and shua understands that completely. he never judges you for it, he could never, and that alone makes you feel so much better. he never minds it when you cling to his arm, standing beside him while he’s ordering coffee, or when you point to the food on the menu so he could tell the waiter what you want to eat. sometimes he doesn’t even has to ask you what you want to order because he knows you so well by now that he can guess what type of boba you’re craving that day or which type of pasta you want to get.

[☁️] jun

brushing your hair

jun likes his silent acts of service, brushing your hair being one of them. whether it be after you wake up, or after a shower, jun finds brushing your hair to be very calming, so it’s also a way for him to distress and spend some time with you as well. sometimes you sit in silence, sometimes you talk about your days, but it’s always so intimate without being sexual, and there’s something beautiful about that. and he adores looking at your sleepy reflection in the mirror, your eyes closing on their own, as he gently runs a brush through your hair, making sure not to pull too harshly.

[☁️] hoshi

carrying your bag

it doesn’t matter what colour it is, if it’s a tote bag or a small baguette one - hoshi is going to carry it, like the gentleman he is. for one, he figures it must be uncomfortable and tiresome to carry a bag around all the damn time, also he doesn’t want you to strain your shoulders too much, so whenever he’s around he is going to be the one to carry it. and he always makes sure before you go out that you have all of your necessities packed in case you forgot something too. also, as much as he’s easy to distract, when he holds your bag at parties he turns on his bodyguard mode, protecting that bag like his life depends on it, clutching it closely to his body (will glare if someone dares to step too close to it).

[☁️] wonwoo

taking of your glasses after you’ve fallen asleep

as a person who wears glasses himself he knows how annoying and uncomfortable it is to fall asleep with your glasses on (not to mention that they can break too), so this is as natural as breathing for him. he probably has a couple of photos in his camera roll of you asleep with your glasses on, but sometimes you look too adorable for him not to take a quick picture for him to coo over later. he always gently takes them off as not to wake you up, and places a kiss on your forehead, before putting your glasses away so they wouldn’t break on accident.

[☁️] woozi

(i don’t really know how to name this?)

woozi is an insanely attentive man, which is one of the reasons why he’s so great at those silent acts of service that make your heart flutter so much. he picks up the smallest things - like shifts in your mood when you’re upset or feeling a bit down, and while at the beginning of your relationship he was a bit awkward with that since he wasn’t really sure how to help you, now he knows exactly what you need. it’s not even that he has to think about holding your hand or hugging you, or just simply sitting next to you - it’s almost like his body gravitates towards you on its own, like it knows you need him by his side in that moment. you could argue that it’s the bare minimum (which it is), but with jihoon it’s so natural, like i hope you get what i’m trying to say - but the way he’s always there right by your side when you need him without having to mention that you’re not feeling that well is everything you could ever ask for.

[☁️] dk

holding your hand in big crowds

all seokmin wants is for you to be happy, loved, and safe. grabbing your hand when you’re in big crowds is a no brainer for him, it’s like his hand moves by itself, finding yours, and intertwining your fingers. he never lets go, not before he’s sure you’re safe with a smaller amount of people around you, where you wouldn’t get lost or swarmed by the crowd, and even then he usually keeps on holding your hand. and if you get stuck in a big crowd, like during a concert or a festival, he often pulls you to his chest, and puts his arms securely around you, so he’s sure no one will bump into you or step on your foot.

[☁️] mingyu

cooking for you

mingyu loves cooking and eating, that much we know. but what he loves more is cooking for you. to be honest, making food for you has always been something obvious for mingyu, from the very beginning of your relationship, and he never saw it as a chore or something he felt obligated to do. preparing breakfasts on your days off, making you lunch for work/school, cooking dinner for your at home dates - it brings him so much joy because not only does he get to do what he loves, but it also reassures him that you’re eating well and not skipping any meals (whenever he finds out you skip meals you end up with a very sulky and low key angry kim mingyu).

[☁️] minghao

buying you clothes

it’s not that he doesn’t like your style or thinks you’re bad at choosing your outfits, on the contrary - during the first stages of your relationship he payed a lot of attention to what you liked to wear, and for which types of clothes you went for, so that he could spoil you with clothes and accessories you liked, making sure you’d be comfortable in them and feeling 100% you. now, whenever he saw something he knew you’d like he immediately bought it, with no second thoughts. it’s kind of comforting to know that your significant other knows you so well that they know exactly what you’d like or what would draw your attention if you were shopping yourself.

[☁️] seungkwan

singing/ humming you to sleep

it’s not like he lays down and automatically starts singing, but he does that whenever he sees you need it. sometimes it’s singing, sometimes it’s only humming, but it’s like his body just knows you need something to soothe your mind to fall asleep. whenever he feels you shuffling around, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfy position - he gently grabs you by your waist, and pulls you a bit closer to him, and starts singing/humming. he doesn’t think much about doing it, it’s like an automatic response because one of the most heartbreaking sights for boo is seeing you unable to rest, unable to get your well deserved sleep.

[☁️] vernon

refilling your snacks drawer

there’s just something about vernon and him noticing all of those small things about you, and what you love. and one thing you definitely love is him and your snacks. he noticed early in your relationship that you had a drawer in your kitchen dedicated solemnly to your favourite snacks, but also how bad you were at refilling it. thus, he took it upon himself to refill it so you could always have something to munch on, and with time it became such a habit of his that he stopped paying attention that he was actually doing it. whenever he was doing grocery it was obvious to him that the first aisle he had to go to was the snacks aisle so he could pick up all of your favourites.

[☁️] dino

refilling your water bottle

another very attentive man with acts of service as his love language. whether you’re actually good at keeping track of how much you drink, or if you don’t pay much attention to it - chan always re-fills your water bottle for you (he was probably the one to buy it in the first place, choosing a colour to match your aesthetic). he knows how important it is to drink proper amounts of water throughout the day, so making sure you drink sufficient amount of it is as natural as brushing his teeth for him. whenever you’re studying/ working he comes into your room, grabs your water bottle and re-fills it. same as when you’re getting for school/work in the morning - he fills it with water, and puts it back in your bag (sometimes he sticks a note to it as well, with a cute “i love you” message).

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei

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hyunverse · 2 months

Text

when you know, you know ☆ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x gn! reader. fluff. hurt comfort. no warnings.

wc: 800 words.

song: margaret by lana del rey.

in the darkness of the night, he asks for your reassurance. super soft hyune.

“Why do you love me?”

Hyunjin whispers, his voice hushed akin to a nightingale’s, it blends with the darkness of the night. You feel his body shift closer towards you, his warmth blanketing you better than the cotton duvets could.

He waits, and you swallow as you try to put your words together. Hyunjin hasn’t been feeling the best, constantly letting his mind drift as his eyes stare at the wall. You know that with the right words, he’ll hopefully pull away from the awful headspace.

“Well,” you mumble, inching closer towards him to the point he could smell the mint in your breath. “I like the way your eyes light up whenever we visit your favourite bakery and you see that your favourite baguette’s fresh from the oven. When you run around with Kkami in your backyard and desperately try to get his kisses.”

You pause, looking up at him to catch sight of his softened expressions.

“I like it when we visit your parents and your mom lets you taste her food. You tend to dance around and giggle. It’s cute. I also love the way your eyebrows scrunch when you observe your painting. Or when you spill coffee on your shirt and pout at yourself.”

All of the words spill from your mouth in one breath — seamlessly, like you’ve memorized all of them and have been waiting for someone to ask. It leaves Hyunjin speechless.

“So,” his voice trails, “You love me for just me? Not for what I can give, but for me?”

You nod, reaching a hand out to push his bangs off his forehead, then lean in to kiss.

“Of course, I also like you for what you have to give. It’s like an added bonus. Ultimately, I love you for you and your little things.”

Hyunjin could only weep. A rivulet of tears traces down his cheeks as he sniffles. Through his tears, he tries to speak.

“I thought,” he sobs, “I’ll only be loved if I give something — if I keep giving. I didn’t know I could be loved for just me.”

The confession has your heart aching — like somebody had ripped your heart from your chest and squeezed it dry. Your hands reach to his face and wipe away his tears, but the tears keep coming. So, you wrap your arms around his neck and cradle him, and he nuzzles his face into your shoulder like he wants to hide away from the world.

“My baby,” you comfort him. His demeanours since the past week suddenly made sense — the extra hours he’d spend in the studio and coming home long after dusk. Seungmin telling you that he’d been staying back even after all the members had left. “Is that why you’ve been working so hard?”

You could feel him nod, and so you reach to his nape and gently massage — an attempt to comfort him. You wish you could do more. You’d take away all his pain and endure it by yourself if you could.

“You don’t have to push yourself too much, my baby,” you whisper, “I’m proud of you even if all you did was breathe.”

At that, Hyunjin pulls away. He looks into your eyes, his own a pale red.

“How did you know that you love me?”

You smile. Gently, you squeeze his shoulder. He could feel the affection in the action.

“I just knew.”

"You... just knew?" he repeats your words like a pre-schooler learning ABCs for the first time.

A fragment of your memory comes into mind — of the first time you told him you love him. Hyunjin was biting into a footlong baguette in his favourite cafe, happily dancing in his seat. The smile that plastered across his visage at the time was huge, it reached his ears and formed crescents under his eyes.

People say that it’s not hard to realize that you’re in love with someone. The feeling either hits you hard, or it seeps into your bones gently. Either way, you’d know.

When you know, you know.

You knew, then.

“When you bit into that footlong baguette in the cafe, I just knew. I was in love with you.”

This time, Hyunjin smiles. Like moonlight that brightens darkness, he smiles. Like you just put up stars in the sky for him.

Hyunjin remembers it too. It’s not easy to forget the memory, of how he stopped in his tracks and stared at you. How his heart fluttered in his chest and realization seeped into his bones, prompting him to tell you that he loves you too.

Another tear cascades down his cheek but this time, it’s from happiness. You giggle, reaching out to wipe the tear and to press a kiss on his nose.

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks at you like it's the first time someone has ever told him that.

“Say that again, please.”

taglist — @zoe8stay @starlostseungmin @bakugossanity @hwajin @sleepyleeji @skizzel-reblogs @jdopes-recorder @sherryblossom @cb97whoree @alyszaen @aaliyahxsx @jeonginsyoungestsibling @hyunluvxo @bokk-minnie @ghostyycat7 @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld @hanjsquokka @pheonixfire777

networks: @k-labels @straykidsland @skzstarnet @kflixnet

#k-labels #straykidsland #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin drabble #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x yn #stray kids fluff #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin oneshot #hwang hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin oneshots

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spamgyu · 2 months

Text

PRETTY BOY // College!Mingyu AU – small purses and labels

"Even if the sky's on fire. Got you here, it's alright, with me ..."

Started off as this prompt: no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable genre: tooth-aching fluff

this is based on these two requests - one of them i cant find bc i am a disorganized mess but it's from 🎀 and the other is from this anon

"Can you put my keys in your purse?" Mingyu batted his lashes at her, holding his car keys out.

Y/n glanced at his hand and then at the tiny shoulder bag in her hand – raising a brow at him. "I hope you know this literally only fits a lipgloss and my will to live."

Curse the current trend of tiny baguette bags – why must they be so cute yet so small, only able to hold far less than what she could probably stuff into her pockets.

It wasn't that her outfit needed a purse. They were simply getting bagels.

But it did make complete her look, and that was more than enough of an excuse to use it.

"Pleaseeee." He dragged his word.

It wasn't like his keys would take up much space anyways – it wasn't like hers that had multiple unneccesary key chains hanging off of it.

It was literally just his key fob, house keys, and dorm keys. It would take up 4 inches at most.

Taking the set with sigh, Y/n threw it in her purse before holding it out for him.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Mingyu blinked.

"It's heavy now and I don't want to carry it."

"Y/n," Mingyu let out a chuckle. "You can't possibly be ser— yeah okay."

Taking the black bag from her hand, Mingyu slipped the strap awkwardly up his arm – the tiny loop stopping mid-bicep.

"Am I serving?"

The girl let out a laugh, pulling out her phone to snap a picture at how ridiculous her boyf– her friend, looked. "You could have just held it."

"But am I serving?" He repeated, this time placing a hand on his jutted out hip.

"Yes. You served and ate." Y/n rolled her eyes at his antics – he never did stop with his foolishness since they began .... talking.

If anything, it persisted much more – Mingyu revealing more and more of his true self and y/n doing the same.

There wasn't a single day they were together that wasn't filled with laughter – laughs that left tears in their eyes.

"Mingyu?"

A grown woman's voice caught the two's attention – Mingyu mostly, whipping his head at the source of the familiar voice.

"Mom!" His eyes wide.

It wasn't that he was afraid, as if he was caught doing something wrong. No, never that. He was simply surprised – especially considering he lived two cities away and there was no reason for his parents to be in their college town.

"Wha- what are you guys doing here?" He leaned in to place a kiss on each of his parent's cheeks before stepping back to stand next to y/n, who was awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to another.

If he had been any one of her friends, she would have happily stuck her hand out and introduced herself to Mingyu's parents.

But their situation was different.

They were in a grey area. For now, at least.

They were much more than friends; sharing sweet hushed words in the midst of a crowd, their hands naturally gravitating to one another when they walked side by side, his lips finding a home on her forehead whenever he greeted or bid her a goodbye.

But they weren't official either. There was no label.

"This is– um–"

"You must be Mingyu's girlfriend." The older woman cut her son off with a smile. "All we've heard during calls is your name and how wonderful you are."

"Mom." Mingyu warned through his teeth, eyes just as wide as when he first heard her call out for him earlier.

Y/n bit back the smile that threatened to form on her lips.

He talked about her.

Constantly.

More importantly, he addressed her as his girlfriend.

Y/n has always been confident in herself, and she thought she would be the same when it came to dating; but to say she didn't have some doubts in her and Mingyu would be a lie. She knew she wasn't the only one with her eyes set on the six-foot charismatic basketball player; y/n was well aware there are girls dying to be at her spot.

And sure, she may have spent some nights lying awake, thinking of the worst – the blissful past few weeks possibly coming down crashing on her. She was a realist, after all.

Mingyu could have anyone, he could be with that girl in 302 – the smart dark haired girl who seemed to know more about sports than y/n did. The one girl she could have sworn Mingyu had his eyes on before they even established a friendship.

Y/n was just like any other girl. She had her insecurities; one of them including Mingyu's true feelings for her.

Despite the fact that he was very transparent with her.

"Oh, don't act all embarrassed now." His mother waved him off. "You even have her purse up your arm. Young love–"

"Alright, we're going." Mingyu spoke quickly, tugging on y/n's arm – who was now giggling.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim." Y/n stood her ground, despite the boy who was practically begging for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Likewise." His father nodded. "We usually have Sunday dinners, you should come along."

Y/n glanced at Mingyu. "I mean it's only fair, considering how much of my family dinners you've crashed."

"Mingyu!" Mrs. Kim gasped.

"Hey! I was invited by coach!" He cried. "I– I'll bring her along, can we please just be excused? I feel like I'm dying here."

The three of them laughed at the poor boy who cowered behind the girl that was practically half his height – dreading the conversation they were about to have the second they stepped away from his parents.

"Have a great rest of your day, kids." Mr. Kim chuckled.

"Thanks." Mingyu mumbled with a sigh, practically dragging y/n away from his parents.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She laughed as the finally reached the store front.

A suppressed groan was heard from Mingyu, using his hands to cover the redness that began to form on his face.

Y/n wasn't upset, not like what Mingyu thought in his head. In fact, she found the whole interaction, and revelation, to be cute – even more now that he was clearly quite embarrassed.

"Do you refer to me as your girlfriend to anyone else?" She brought her hands up to pull his away from his face – their fingers interlocking once they were at his side.

"Um– everyone?" Mingyu kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

"Sorry– what?" Y/n coughed.

"Well– I, we're heading there anyways and– I promise I do plan on asking you to be my girlfriend. I have it all planned it's romant–"

He was speaking fast.

It was a habit of his when he was either excited or nervous; either way, she found it absolutely adorable. Y/n didn't care to listen to the rest of his rambling, leaning up to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"This was romantic." She smiled up at him.

"Wha–"

"I'm your girlfriend."

Mingyu stood frozen, his brain still attempting to process the soft pillows that made contact with his lips – his fingers reaching up to touch the sticky gloss she had left behind.

Peach vanilla.

"I'm your boyfriend." His voice was small, almost as if he was saying it to reaffirm himself.

"Yes."

"I'm your boyfriend!" Mingyu repeated much louder this time, his lips stretched from ear to ear. "Oh, prepared to be so sick of me."

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo @jaebammie @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose @wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#warning this isnt edited sorry #long time no see......#our favorite best boy is back ehehehe #ITS ALL FLUFF DONT WORRY I GOT SOME OF YALL WITH TRUST ISSUES READY TO FIGHT ME #college!mingyu au #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu drabble #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #spamgyu pretty boy

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upon-a-starry-night · 5 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt. 14

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

(This chapter takes place a little before last chapter of Nat’s pov)

The taste of the dessert was still simmering on your tongue as you walked home from your date. The thought that Nat had maybe seen you hadn’t left your brain since you got that note. The one you were still desperately clutching in your hand, rereading it over and over again and imagining Nat writing it. Her handwriting fits her personality so much. You wondered if she would be open to the idea of becoming pen pals.

The second you’d read the note you’d scrambled out of your seat to catch the waiter and ask if she was still there but he only shook his head and gave you a pitying smile.

“Can you at least tell me what she looked like?” You didn’t know if you were breaking some unspoken rule of whatever game you were playing with Nat but you had to know. More than anything you had to know.

The waiter picked up a few glasses and plates and put them on his tray before turning to you

“I couldn’t see much, she was wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. You’d think she was a celebrity or something. Is she… your stalker?”

Before he could get the wrong idea you quickly shook your head no at his accusation

“She’s… a friend?” you don’t know why it sounded so much like a question, both of you had agreed you were beyond strangers now but… what you felt towards Nat didn’t always feel like friendship. It felt like those moments when time stood still;

Like when you feel a cool breeze on the hottest day of the summer,

Or when you snuggle under warm blankets in the winter,

Or settling down somewhere with a cup of something warm and a good book.

She felt like all the little moments you loved about life combined into a person.

Your mother would probably call you naive for feeling so strongly about someone you’d never even met but she’d technically already approved of Nat anyway.

“Is there nothing you can remember about her?” you tried to keep up with the guy as he walked to pick up after another table

You felt a few expensive-looking people look your way but you didn’t pay them any mind.

The waiter huffed and stopped in his tracks, turning to you with the patience only a person who works in customer service could have.

“Look- a bit of her hair was sticking out from under her hoodie, it seemed- brownish? Maybe more of an auburn? I don’t really know I wasn’t paying attention. But if you really need to know so badly we have a tech guy coming up in a few weeks, I could have him send you the alley surveillance footage?” You could tell this guy was over you asking a million questions so you nodded your head enthusiastically. Glad to have at least that much. As you scribbled down your email you thought of your number neighbor with brownish-auburn hair. Somehow, you felt like you already knew her hair would be darker.

As you were rounding the corner onto your block your phone pinged with a notification and you were surprised to see Nat’s contact on your screen.

‘It’s about time’ you thought to yourself as you realized this was the first time Nat had texted you first, completely unprompted.

You swiped open the message with a satisfied smile on your face.

Nat🔪:

Enjoy your dinner?

Y/n🍦:

It was okay.

The dessert was the best part.

Nat🔪:

Oh yeah?

Y/n🍦:

Definitely.

Putting your phone away, you unlocked the door to your apartment, entered the flat, and locked the door again before making a B-line for your fridge. You snatched an old grocery list off and replaced it with the napkin. It settled nicely under your baguette-shaped magnet.

You started at the note for a few minutes, unsure how to go about addressing what had transpired.

If you even should address it.

What if it made her run again? You wouldn’t be able to handle her silence like last time. You’d grown too attached.

Shaking your head you decide to just go for it, rip the band-aid right off. If she disappeared again then it was her loss.

But if she was confident enough to text you first this time then maybe things would be different?

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

You were there

The reply took a few seconds and you tried your best to channel your inner monk for some patience

Nat🔪:

I stopped by

Y/n🍦:

You were there.

Again the three little typing bubbles taunted you and you wanted to pull them out of your phone and throw them in a blender but you knew it just meant she was second-guessing every answer she could give you. You’d gotten used to her texting habits.

Nat🔪:

…

I was.

Y/n🍦:

Did you… see me?

Nat🔪:

No.

You don’t know why you breathe out a sigh of relief. Part of you thinks it’s because you want your first meeting to be mutual. To see each other for the first time at the same time. So you can know what she thinks of you by just the look in her eyes.

At least if she had seen you and she was lying you could know that she thought you were pretty enough to continue texting.

Nat🔪:

I never even stepped foot in the restaurant

That much you knew from the waiter, but it still felt good that she was telling you. Like she was validating your unspecified want of seeing each other for the first time together. It always felt like she just knew things about you without you ever telling her. Maybe she was a long-distance mind reader. If that were the case she should really get hired by The Avengers.

The thought makes you huff out a light laugh and reminds you of when the two of you first started talking. It felt like so long ago now. You’d come a long way since then.

Y/n🍦:

Thank you.

It was delicious

It made my night honestly

Nat🔪:

Anytime, Y/n.

I’m glad.

You didn’t know what Nat was doing on her side of the city but you wondered if maybe she was grinning at her screen like a fool the same way you were.

You changed the topic of your conversation with Nat as you began getting ready for bed and not once did it occur to you that you hadn’t thought of your actual date the entire night.

Pt 15

A/n: Y/n learns a little about what Nat looks like!!

I meant it when I said slow burn guys but don't worry this story won't be too long!!~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts

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yandere-paramour · 2 days

Text

First Time with Vivien - Part 1

When you first tell Vivien that you think you're ready to be intimate with him, he's already unbuckling his pants. He thinks you mean RIGHT NOW and he's a little disappointed when you tell him that you meant like, this weekend.

A little embarrassed, he pulls his pants back up and he's like "Oh."

But late that night, after you've left for your own apartment and he's emptied himself twice thinking about you, he gets to thinking. It's actually a good thing that you both didn't rush into anything today.

It's Tuesday night, and you're coming over Friday. He has three full days to prepare. He only has three days to prepare.

In between work, sleep, and stalking you, Vivien searches through every Reddit post, every internet forum, every advice column he can to try and get a wide range of information. Most of it is useless and he disregards it, but some of it is very useful.

The first thing he does is head straight to the store to buy new, soft sheets. His usual sheets are covered in... stains, and it would be embarrassing for you, his angel, to see that.

He didn't know this, but Patchouli can be used as an aphrodisiac. He makes a special blend of essential oils just for this occasion. If he sets up the diffuser right, he'll be able to help you relax and ease into everything.

Thursday night and Friday morning, he's too excited to sleep, so he gets to work making a platter of snacks for the both of you to share. He wants you both to be full, but not so full that it makes you both sleepy and knocks you out of the mood, so he guesses an aphrodisiac girl-dinner would work best.

He pairs slices of fresh baguette with some honey cinnamon butter, bakes heart-shaped brownies sprinkled with powdered sugar, and chills strawberry and banana slices with a white chocolate drizzle. He takes a little bit of money from his savings and splurges on a nice bottle of red wine for the both of you. For the finishing touch, he bakes brie with herbs and honey, setting it right in the middle of the charcuterie board.

With another thought, he adds some pineapple on there as well.

He looks around. The room is softly lit and quiet, smelling pleasantly of patchouli and lavender. The food is ready and waiting. The only thing left to prepare is himself.

He scrubs himself in the shower, wanting to make sure he is extra clean for you. He also takes the initiative to brush his hair and try and make sure the unruly strands stay flat.

When he answers the door, he is struck by how lovely you look. You both eat while you watch a romantic movie, and Vivien is fear-sweating. He looks at you whenever there is a sex scene, but looks away when you look at him. But throughout this, he pulls you closer and closer to him, his hand inching up your skirt.

When he kisses you, he can taste the sweets he made, and another perfect flavor that is uniquely you. Despite his extroverted personality, he feels meek and nervous today. He asks if you are ready, and when you say yes, he leads you gently to the bedroom.

Once you both are in and the door is locked, Vivien's anxiety disappears and he becomes someone different. He finally has you, willing and wet and ready in his bedroom. He will not waste this opportunity. He is on you in seconds, kissing, sucking, biting, desperate to leave marks on you, to prove to the universe that he is alive and you are his.

Your clothes litter the floor, all the care he put into this evening thrown to the wind as he lays you gently on the soft blue sheets. He caresses his way down your body, whispering about how you're so beautiful and so good to him and that he's waited for this moment for so long and he finally has you right where you belong, spread wide for him to ravish you.

He takes you into his mouth, licking and sucking like a man starved. For a man so well-versed in herbs and flowers, understanding the intricate ways smells and flavors fit together, there is nothing he can compare to the taste that is you. His tongue is moderately long, but it is strong and skilled, teasing moans out of you until you are gripping the sheets in two tight fists. He hums as he devours you, the vibrations giving another level of stimulation to the coitus.

This part is about your pleasure, but that does not mean he neglects himself. He is kneeling on the floor, tongue and left hand focused on you, but his right hand is busy, wrapped around his cock. He desperately ruts into his hand, pumping himself. Watching you like this; it is better than any fantasy, any daydream, any wet dream his imagination can come up with, and he is close to spilling over right now, just from the divine pleasure of tasting you. But he is desperately trying to hold himself back for the main event.

His tasting and sucking are no match for you, and you explode into fireworks, the triumphant feeling rolling your eyes back into their sockets and curling your toes at the same time. Vivien doesn't overstimulate you, not this first time. He pulls back, your juices smeared around his face as he gives the biggest smile you've ever seen on him. He thanks you over and over again for the opportunity to take care of you, telling you how gorgeous, how ethereal, how reverent he feels about you.

Moving up beside you, he pulls you onto his chest. His cock twitches, desperately seeking the rampant stimulation it lost, but he tucks it between his legs. He needs to care for you before anything. He holds a bottle of water to your lips, asking if you are okay and did you enjoy it and do you need anything from him.

You assure him you are happy. Very, very happy in fact, and you want to move onto the real thing: the penetration. Vivien blushes immediately, wanting to mount you right then and there, but he asks again if you're sure. No matter how good it will feel or how pleasured he will be, he will not do this unless you are sure.

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mioyeo · 8 months

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Watch your back : Chapter 9

Once you don’t value what you have someone else learns how to take care of what used to be yours

Synopsis : 8 men supposed to give her all the love they promised end up leaving her behind without a valid reason

Pairing : girlfriend Reader x PolyAteez !

Warning : this chapter contains mentions of Ateez being careless , lots of crying , jumping off a cliff etc Please reminding me if I forgot something

Tag list : @legbouk , @scarfac3 , @m4rsluv , @hcyaa , @jackinmyarea , @layzfeelit , @loverlele , @mulletjoonsupremacy , @veneziamadness , @belle643 , @gugggu6gvai , @atinytinaa , @voidcupidz , @atinyreads , @baguette-atiny , @parkthothwa8 , @hwadump , @owjohny , @miaatiny , @honeyymon @tunaasan , @riririyuhn , @vixensss

Word count: 1,5k

" Im so exhausted and my feet hurt "

Wooyoung sighed out as he plopped on the couch massaging his feet groaning

" It took a lot longer than expected "

Yeosang laughed and removed his suit

" I was scared your mom was not going to like me to be honest "

Rin sat beside Wooyoung who chuckled and held her softly planting a kiss on her temple

" My mom is cautious, but she'll grow to like you so don't worry about it "

Yunho who's hair was now messy scratched his chest as he came into the kitchen looking around

" Do we still have those mini crackers? "

He looked inside the cupboards humming

" Don't open them it's from Y/n "

Seonghwa came into the kitchen stressed

" Where is she even? wasn't she supposed to be with us earlier? "

" Yeah but you and Jongho forgot to add her "

" When was I even supposed to ? "

Yunho opened the crackers anyways eating them as Seonghwa looked at him in disbelief

" We clearly talked about this last week ? how could you forget? "

" Gosh Seonghwa chill can't someone forget stuff? And why didn't you add her ? "

The younger walked out the kitchen leaving the elder to himself

" Hwa just go to bed , she's a grown woman "

Mingi yawned coming into the kitchen

"I'm just worried a little since it's really late and her phone is going straight to voicemail "

" Maybe she's on her way home let's just go to sleep she's grown and capable of knowing her way home stop stressing over nothing "

Seonghwa looked at the younger as he sighed , he just couldn't go to sleep like that his heart told him something was wrong and it put a huge weight on him

But at the end he just locked the door and turned the lights off hoping for her to return home by the time he woke up

___

The cold water embracing her body slowly numbed every part of her making it unable to move even if she wanted too

The struggling with breathing wasn't kicking in yet much to her liking

All her thoughts ran out freely as she just let herself sink further into the water

Was this really the right choice?

Or stupid to give up everything she fought for to be here in the first place?

It felt like an eternity as Y/n continued to sink but what scared her was when something grabbed her making her struggle against whatever it was

The muffled underwater screams didn't seem to do anything against the mysterious thing that kept pulling her upwards towards the light coming from the surface

Y/n kept fighting against the mysterious thing that kept swimming upward

She gasped and coughed as she was held against something rock hard

" Are you insane ? You could've died ! "

The person yelled at her as he panted in fear looking at her

" Why didn't you let me sink ! Nobody would have cared if I disappeared for once "

She cried coughing

" Wait Y/n ? Why the heck would you do such a dangerous thing ?! do you know how much you scared me to death when I saw you jump ? "

It took her a good moment to notice that the person who basically saved her was one of Rowoons friends

" D-Dawon , I- "

" Look we'll talk about this later let's just get out of here before we get sick "

He sighed and started swimming towards the dry part with her on his back

" I'm sorry you had to save someone like me "

" Let's not do this now , I just want you to go home safely with me so we can talk "

He shook his head trying to get the water out his ears before he took her hand and walked up towards the place he dropped his bag when he jumped in

" I'm just glad you're safe "

The boy sighed out trying to calm down since he was still under shock

" I don't want to go home "

" Don't worry I'm not taking you there "

She stood there shivering as she looked at her bare feet while he fished into his gym bag For his towel

" Did you eat anything? "

Dawon dried her hair as she just stood there not responding

" It's ok if you don't want to talk , let's just call a taxi to our dorm since you don't want to go home and I won't force you "

He pulled out his phone called a taxi

" Yes we are near the Han river, yeah exactly there thank you "

She looked at him with tears extremely ashamed and feeling pathetic since she couldn't even succeed in this one thing

" Why did you jump in ? It would've been better if I was gone "

Dawon looked at her as he closed his eyes sighing before hugging her

" I'd never let someone die before my eyes, even if I didn't know you and I'm so glad I did because you're so young and you have so much to achieve, and Rowoon would be so devastated if I hadn't saved you and I'm sure other people as well would be broken "

“ I can’t do this anymore , I’m a failure I can’t even defend myself anymore ”

The girl cried on his wet shirt ,it was a lot of weight on her shoulders and how could she forget about that one person who cared about her the most , who was willing to love her like nobody else ever loved her

" I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did this in the first place I'm so ungrateful "

" Y/n please , it must have been hard if it drove you to do this "

He grabbed her face and wiped her tears away with his thumb before guiding her towards the taxi that just arrived

" Please don't tell Rowoon about this I don't want to worry him more than I have by ignoring his texts lately "

Dawon nodded and shut the taxi door as they drove in silence

———

Both of them entered the dorm quietly careful not to make any noise

" But I don't have any clothes "

Y/n shivered as she hugged herself as Dawon went into his room and came back with some clothes and a towel

" These are new boxers that I just bought recently you can wear them "

She took them and went to change after taking a hot shower , but most of the time found herself shedding tears or starring at herself at the mirror the boys had in their bathroom

Were did she fail ? , was it really a blessing to still be breathing after her selfish act ?

After drying herself and blow drying her hair she stepped out of the bathroom and ran into one of the boys that was waiting so they could go to the toilet

" Oh I didn't know you were here "

" I myself didn't expect it either but it's good to see you again Jaeyoon "

He smiled and rubbed her head before dismissing himself to go to the toilet

" Hey you finished? "

Y/n nodded and looked around before fiddling with her fingers nervously

" Can you tell me were Rowoon's room is ? "

" He's probably asleep but go ahead it's the second door down the hall "

He smiled and said good night leaving her to herself in the semi dark hallway

Walking towards her best friends room she carefully opened the door and went inside , the room smelled so good it made her feel like home but yet so distant from it

She carefully went unter the covers but held her distance, it's like she felt it kinda being inappropriate being so close to him even thought they had watched films together in her room as he cuddled her

The moon made his face look so perfect and adorable as he slept soundless

How could someone as handsome like him like her let alone love her more than the best friend stage ? It was still a mystery to her

" Y/n is that you ? "

He asked without opening his eyes

" No it's not Y/n "

She changed her voice on purpose stiffening her laugh with tears

" Don't lie to me , it's smells like you "

He pulled the girl closer to him opening his eyes yawning

"Do I smell that good to be recognized ? "

" You always smell good and even from miles away I could tell that it's you "

She smiled softly letting him hold her , her worries long forgotten

“ I’m not even gonna ask you why you’re in my room this late at night , I’m just glad you’re alright and by my presence again ”

He smiled and softly yawned once again

“ Rowoon? ”

The boy hummed and kept yawning

“ Do you still love me ? ”

Rowoon opened his eyes meeting her glossy ones that stared back at him

“I do love you , but why are you asking me this ? Is everything alright? ”

“ How can you love someone as broken and insecure as me ? ”

She looked at him with lips in between her teeth due to her nerves playing with her

“ Because you deserve more , and you stole my heart with how sweet and caring not to forget how beautiful you are ”

The boy took her by the waist and smiled softly kissing her forehead

“These fools don’t know what they are missing out by not appreciating you enough and I just want a chance to show you how much you can be happy and appreciated ”

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic

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chippedshake · 9 months

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So I thought of a way to explain most sexualities I think. Let's say that each type of bread (bagels, challah, baguette, etc) is a gender, butter is sexual attraction, and jam is romantic attraction.

Each person eats some types of bread and doesn't like other types of bread. Some people like all types of bread but prefer some types (omni). Some people like all types of bread equally and don't care which one you give them, judging each slice individually (pan). Some people like a couple types of bread. Some people only like one type of bread. Some people are allergic to gluten.

Even though most people put jam and butter on all types of bread they eat, sometimes there's a type of bread you only want to eat with butter because it just tastes better with only butter, and sometimes you want to eat a type of bread with only jam. And there's people who only like jam and there's people who only like butter, and there's people that don't like either.

Sometimes someone will like butter or jam, but prefer to get used to the taste of the bread alone before putting anything on it (demi). Some people are only sometimes in the mood for jam or butter, or have no particularly strong craving for it (grey). Some people almost never like jam or butter but will suddenly get a craving for it (aro/ace spike).

There are people who don't like butter or jam, but if you give them some bread with it, they won't complain. Maybe out of politeness, maybe they don't care that much because it just doesn't have any flavor to them. There's people who, if they eat something with butter or jam, they will throw up because they're allergic to it.

And then there's people who eat bread with Nutella (qprs).

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 1 month

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I Hate Baking, But You Love Bread

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: Still Into You by Paramore)

You hummed to the music happily as you kneaded the bread. You heard the door unlock and Gojo happily walked inside.

“Big brother has arrived!” Gojo exclaimed happily. He laughed when he saw flour all over the counter, arms, apron, and face. “What the hell?” You gave him a look of annoyance.

“Shut up,” you said.

“But you’re a legit mess,” Gojo said in between chuckles. “Aww man! I’m not gonna let you live it down.” Gojo started to take pictures on his phone that made you cover your face with some embarrassment.

“That’s fine,” you said, bottom lip jutted out into a pout. “At least Kento-kun will appreciate my nonexistent baking skills.”

“I knew you had a reason. How long have you two been together anyway?”

“Ten years. Eleven in two months,” you answered as you focused on kneading the dough.

“And you’re just baking bread?”

“He has recently developed a new obsession with bread. So I wanted to surprise him,” you said happily.

“But you hate baking.”

“But I also love Kento,” you said proudly. Gojo chuckled and ruffled your hair.

“How’s it like?” Gojo asked curiously when he took a seat at the island counter where you were kneading the bread. “How is it like to be with someone for that long? How do you know that you still love him?” You smiled.

“Kento-kun has never changed his chivalrous ways,” you said. “He makes sure that I don't get too worried when he's on missions. That was one of our bad fights before and he puts in so much effort on it. Kento-kun stays consistent and that is something that I love so much about him.” You separated and placed the dough in a baguette pan. You put it in the oven and started the timer.

“Does he still gives you butterflies?” You nodded happily, your cheeks turning a light pink color.

“Do you two still argue?”

“You know that we do. I call you when we do.” Gojo chuckled.

“Very true. When is lover boy coming back from his mission anyway?” On cue, the door opened and the two of you stared at the front door.

“Gojo-san, what are you doing here?” Nanami asked once he entered inside.

“Kento-kun!!” you exclaimed happily and ran over to hug him. Nanami lightly laughed and hugged you.

“You’re covered in flour,” he said surprisingly. He chuckled as he wiped the flour away from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” You blushed. Your heart raced and the butterflies were fluttering around. Nanami softly kissed your lips before placing his hand on the small of your back and headed inside the kitchen.

“Yo, Nanamin,” Gojo greeted. Nanami nodded in response. “I see that my baby sister is in great care. How’s the mission?”

“Takuma-kun is improving,” Nanami said. “The mission was a success.” Nanami looked around the kitchen. Flour everywhere with bowls, measuring spoons, and measuring cups piled over the sink.

“I thought you hate baking, sweetheart,” Nanami said. You blushed.

“Well, you’ve been into bread lately. And I wanted to surprise you with homemade baguettes,” you answered cutely. Nanami chuckled. He kissed the top of your head.

“It smells really good, sweetheart,” he said. “How about you wash up and I’ll clean the kitchen. I can keep an eye on the bread.”

“No, no, no! You just came back and—“ Nanami kissed your lips. When he pulled away, he turned your body around so you were facing the direction to the bedroom.

“Go, sweetheart,” he said and lightly smacked your butt. Gojo laughed at the interaction while you walked away flustered. Nanami rolled his sleeves up before heading to the sink to clean up.

“Sooooooo,” Gojo started.

“Are you here to annoy me?” Nanami asked.

“Sort of. So, how is it like being with my sister for this long? How do you know that you still love her or she loves you?” Nanami raised an eyebrow at Gojo.

“She baked bread and she hates baking,” Nanami said. “That says a lot already.” Gojo sighed, knowing that he’s not going to get more of a response from Nanami. He stood up and patted Nanami’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“I was going to meet my students for dinner. Tell my sister that I’ll call her tomorrow,” he said before leaving. Nanami shook his head at your brother. By the time you returned back to the kitchen, Nanami had already cleaned it spotless. Your eyes widened.

“You’re fast,” you said. “Satoru left?” Nanami nodded.

“He’ll call you tomorrow,” he notified, leaving you to nod in reply. You walked over to the bread and smiled proudly. Nanami smiled and walked over to you. He hugged you from behind, his face resting in the crook of you neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said and caressed his hair. “Kento-kun, what makes you still love me? Do I still—Do you still—what I’m trying to ask is—“ Nanami squeezed you tightly before letting go and dragging you to the couch. He sat you on his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You baked bread for me when I know you loathe baking,” Nanami said with a soft smile. “It taste good by the way. But I don’t just love you for that.” Nanami curled a strand of your hair behind your ear. His hand cupped the same side of your face. “I love coming home to you. You make my worries melt away, especially when I hear you singing in the background while you make dinner. You remind me how amazing of a sorcerer I am. You’re a sweetheart who always looks out for others. You haven’t changed a bit except for how confident you became over the years.”

“I think I can thank my nursing profession,” you said happily. Nanami smiled.

“You support me no matter what. If anything, my love for you keeps getting stronger.” You kissed him deeply. “What about you?”

“You’re consistent and I love that about you,” you said. “You’re patient and take care of me even when you don’t have to. No one gets me like you do, Kento-kun. You mean everything to me.” Nanami kissed you back in response.

“Even when I haven’t proposed yet?” You laughed and playfully hit his shoulder.

“Even then,” you said. “However I’m still waiting for that ring.”

“I know, sweetheart. Soon, I promise.”

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #nanami jjk #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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mingigoo · 29 days

Text

oh shit, are we in love? || Jongho (m.)

🏀 pairing ⇢ cheerleader! (fem) reader x best friend/basketball player! Jongho

🏀 summary ⇢ you’ve called Jongho your best friend all your life. You were attached at the hip for ages, and even as you take on college together. With no other relationship experience other than with him, when you decide to go after a cute classmate, you look to Jongho for some help. Asking him to practice “things” with you seemed like nothing—that is, until kissing him made you think that you couldn’t kiss anyone else.

🏀 genre/au ⇢ best friends to lovers, college au, smut, fluff

🏀 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (male recieving), cum shot, Jongho is a virgin, also is a slut for y/n, drinking, mentions of knee injury, best friends to lovers, college love, cheerleader x basketball player

🏀 word count ⇢ 15.8k (so sorry I just couldnt stop)

🏀 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

spotify playlist

When you were kids, Jongho gave you a ring—a ring made out of straw paper he kept after a trip to get milkshakes after school.

With the paper straw ring, he stuck it on your ring finger. The wrong one, but that didn't matter to him, anyway. He declared to you that he would marry you someday. Someday, whatever that meant to a young kid. With the ring already on your finger, you couldn't exactly decline his proposal, so you just shrugged and told him, “Why not?”

At seventeen, you went to prom together. Not because you liked each other, no. Because it was convenient, it made sense. How could you go with someone else? You wore a beautiful red gown, Jongho matching you with a patterned red tie. You had a great time, went home together, and nearly kissed at your doorstep—you didn't think too much of it. You blamed it on the atmosphere. So did he.

You sat at your desk in your cramped dorm room, your bed pushed up on the left side of the room and a mess of pillows and blankets covering it.

Suddenly, as you were finally getting to the good part in your book, Jongho barged into your room, dropping his basketball bag onto the floor with a groan. He tossed his slides off, not even meeting your gaze before walking like a zombie towards your messy bed, throwing himself on top.

“Well hello to you too,” you blinked, losing your page in your book. “Get out of my damn bed, you're sweaty as fuck.”

He huffed, crossing his muscular arms across his chest, staring up at the glow stars you put on the ceiling. “Leave me be. My roommate is fucking some chick right now. I just need to lay down.”

“San seems like he gets around a lot,” you scoffed, picking up your book again. You were currently reading a very, very smutty book—although you were supposed to be studying your literature anthology text for the exam you had in the morning. You flipped a page.

“Oh, he does,” Jongho sniffed. You looked over at him, his cut-off t-shirt revealing a good bit of skin on his side, his sweat gleaming on his body. “I mean, practice just ended. He had to have the damn girl in there even before he got back. It’s ridiculous.”

He sat up now, putting his back against his headboard. He winced a bit as he moved, his hand going to the brace around his knee.

You paused, completely forgetting the smut you were reading. “What is it? Is it hurting again?”

“Just a little, it’s no biggie.” Jongho offered you a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Don't give me that look, y/n. I hurt it a while ago. It's normal for it to ache occasionally.”

Back in your senior year, he tore his ACL before the season, causing him to never have his final year of basketball. He was a mess, but at least he had you. He got surgery, had physical therapy, but yet, he still has pain to this day.

You met his eyes for a moment, sighing when that gorgeous smile of his poked through his lips. “Fine, fine. Just get outa here when you can. I got some…important things to do alone tonight.”

He furrowed his brows, confused. “What could you possibly…..oh,” he shut his eyes painfully. “Please, I don't want to imagine it.” He scooted back down on the bed and tossed your blanket on top of him. “My eyes, my eyes.”

“Oh, shut up, you pussy.” You set your book down, crossing your legs. “A girl gotta live out her fantasies somehow, alright?”

“La la la,” he repeated, trying his best to ignore the conversation. “I don't wanna hear it.”

You let out a chuckle, stood up from your seat, and tossed yourself onto the bed with him, tackling him as he thrashed from your grip.

“Stop it, stop it,” he groaned, wriggling away from your hands as you tickled him. He giggled, childlike. You giggled right along with him, not even caring about the damn sweat that coated his skin, his clothes. You tangled together under the blanket, and after a good couple minutes of a tickle fight, you grabbed your laptop to watch your favorite TV show.

Jongho stayed under the blankets with you, his leg strewn on top of your body, his head in the crook of your neck as you watched the show together. He let out a few snide comments—earning a slap from you, but he just chuckled and nuzzled closer into you.

And after a few episodes, he fell asleep on you, legs tangled in yours, your arm wrapped around him.

—

“Dude, you wouldn't answer your phone last night,” Wooyoung mumbled as he stuffed a couple of chips into his mouth. “Do you literally have a new bitch every night?”

You and your friends were sitting at a table in the dining hall, munching on some lunch before you had class. Wooyoung, San, and Mingi sat across from you and Jongho, all of them in workout gear—they were going to the gym after lunch.

“Listen, last night wasn't even that good,” San hummed dully, taking a sip of his protein shake. “She was too damn loud—”

“I thought you liked them whiny,” Mingi deadpanned.

San’s eyes narrowed on the giant. “Your point? She was loud, not whiny—there’s a difference.” San looked to Jongho now, a slight smirk on his pretty little lips. “Where’d you go? You could've joined us.”

Jongho waved his hands sporadically. “No, no, I’d rather not, thank you.”

San huffed playfully, eyes dancing to you. They glimmered knowingly. “Ah, you’d rather be in her bed, right?” he nodded his head towards you, earning a harsh glare from Jongho.

“So what if I'm in her bed, it’s not like we do anything.” Jongho’s eyes went frantic, and his fists balled. “We’ve always slept with each other—wait, that came out wrong—”

“What he’s trying to say is that we’ve slept in the same bed since we were little, that nothing is ever gonna happen,” you interjected, crossing your arms across your chest.

San laughed at that. “Ah yeah, that nothing’s gonna happen, gotcha,” he said, taking the last sip of his protein shake. I’m going to the gym if you guys are ready. Jongho, y/n, you coming?”

You shook your head, but stood up with everyone else, anyway. “I have class, but you guys have fun. I’ll walk out with you.”

As you and your friends left the dining hall, the cool, winter air breezed through you, sending chills down your spine. Your winter coat wasn't enough. You shoved your hands into your pockets, walking stiffly next to jongho, who simply—possibly even without thinking, tossed his arm around your shoulder, warming you up instantly. Your friends continued to talk and carry on, and you snuggled up into Jongho’s warm side.

—

Class was a bore. As per usual. The spring semester had just started, and the new classes you had were far from entertaining. Anything to get through school, though.

As you packed up your things, a phone fell from the seat in front of you, landing right by your feet. You picked it up, but when the person was no longer sitting there, you quickly tossed your bag over your shoulder to follow him.

“Hey, excuse me!” you huffed, chasing after the guy—damn, his legs were long. He moved way too fast for you. “Your phone….dude!” you finally reached him, tapping him on the shoulder, only for the most gorgeous man to grace the earth to turn around.

You forced yourself to keep your jaw from falling to the floor as you met his dark eyes. His hair was even darker, his lips a soft pink, curling up slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, holding up the phone. “But you dropped this.”

The pretty guy blinked, smirking. The classroom emptied as you stood staring at each other, oblivious to the professor giving you a side-eye as he left.

“I don't think that’s mine,” he said blandly, but his eyes glimmered mischievously. He looked a bit older—definitely older than you, at least.

You furrowed your brows, looking at the phone in your hands. “I could've sworn you were the one sitting in front of me,” you wondered, confused. You pushed it forward into his chest. “Just take it I don't have time to find the owner if it's not yours.”

He smiled down at you, his thick eyebrows raising. “I won't take it.”

“Why the hell not?” your patience was running thin—you had to get the cheer practice. This stupidly pretty guy was not allowed to make you late. You were not running laps. Not today.

You were about to just shove it into his pockets until his mouth opened. “Not without your number.”

You frowned. “Is that….is that supposed to be a pickup line?”

He shrugged. “If you want it to be, then yes.”

God, the smile this damn boy had. You were gonna crumble under his gaze like some schoolgirl, but you kept your cool.

His eyes were so bright, so clear. He was tall, much taller than you, much older. You watched as he looked around, away from you. “If not, then I’ll just take the phone back—”

“No, no,” you laughed awkwardly, looking at the phone in your hands. “You just…you’ll just need to unlock it.”

He smiled gorgeously. “I can do that.”

He took the phone, typed in a few numbers, and gave it right back to you. “What’s your name?”

“y/n,” you hummed, forcing your blush away. This was the first time you had been asked for your number, the first time a guy other than Jongho or your friends had looked at you. “You?”

“Seonghwa,” the pretty boy smiled, a name now to the face. You couldn't help but grin at his expression—and the utter insanity that just happened. It was totally random; a pretty guy asking for your number? That’s never happened in all your years. Never.

“If I ask to buy you a coffee,” he started as you fumbled on your phone number. “Would you say yes?”

“Depends,” you shrugged, unable to look up at him. “If you get me food, too.”

“Deal.” Goddamn, that smile, those teeth. “Tomorrow, after class? Before class?”

You bit your lip, handing the phone back to him. “Before, I have practice after class.” actually, you had practice like, right now. You probably looked crazy, eyes wide as you realized where you needed to be. “I gotta go—speaking of which—”

Before you could leave, he called for you. “Hey, where should we meet?”

“Outside the library?” you tossed out, hoping he answered hastily.

He nodded, giving you that smile once again.

“Perfect.”

—

You were in bed after practice, and Jongho was sitting quietly on your desk chair, slowly taking off his knee brace and hissing.

“God, this thing sucks,” he groaned, the velcro tearing as he peeled it off. The brace was like a metal cage, going from his thigh to his lower calf, looking like a deathtrap.

“And it stinks,” you mumbled dramatically, staring up at your ceiling, hands folded on your stomach as your mind wandered. You sat up quickly, startling your best friend.

“What? What is it?” he spat out, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You just sat up like a goddamn zombie.”

“If, let’s just say, hypothetically,” you wondered, looking out into space. “That I got asked out on a date to a coffee shop, how would I dress?”

Jongho’s eyes widened. “You got asked out? You?” he asked incredulously.

You scoffed, looking over at him with a playful sneer. “Is that so hard to believe?”

He laughed, finally taking off his brace and setting it on the side of your desk. “Oh yeah—y/n, you’ve never once gone on a date in all of our years of friendship. It's shocking.”

You blinked at him, gripping a pillow from behind you and tossing it at him. Of course, he caught it.

“I’m just saying—”

“Okay, but for real,” you groaned, shifting to get comfy again. “You’ve been on some dates, how did the girls usually dress for them? Did you ever go on a coffee date—”

“Who’s the guy?” he huffed out, completely ignoring your worries.

You flattened your lips. “Does that matter?”

“Uh, yeah. What if the guy is a scumbag?” Jongho leaned back in the chair, stretching out his arms.

“He’s definitely not a scumbag,” you sighed, thinking of how dreamy he looked, missing Jongho’s worried expression. “Anyway, you didn't answer my question.”

You couldn't figure out the look on your best friend’s face. He knitted his brows, his eyes raising to yours. “Just dress normally,” he spoke softly. “When’s your date?”

“Tomorrow.” You hopped off your bed and walked towards your closet across from Jongho. He followed you as you moved and hesitated to look as you tore off your top, leaving you standing in your sports bra.

Jongho gulped but rolled his eyes playfully. “Why do you always undress in front of me?” His eyes naturally dropped to your hips as you slid off your sweatpants. “I am a man, too, you know.”

“Pfft, man, my ass,” you turned your back to him as he tried his best not to look. You grabbed a t-shirt—his t-shirt that you kept from a while ago—and tossed it on. You didn't even bother with pants.

Jongho gave you a look as you turned to face him. “My shirt? Really?” He groaned, mouth parted as he looked at you. “Where the hell are your pants?”

“I don't like pants.”

“Then put shorts on—”

“Is it a crime to sleep in my underwear? God, at least I have something on, dammit.” you walked past him and hopped back onto your bed. “I could be completely naked—this is my room, remember?”

Jongho didn't change his expression—he blinked at you while you sat on the bed, bare-legged, the skin up to the top of your thigh visible. He took in a gulp. “I, uh, I got an assignment due at midnight. I’m gonna head back to my room.”

You shrugged and shuffled into bed to get comfy. “Have fun with that, babycakes,” you said, giving him a wink, but he ignored it and left your room without another look.

—

Maybe it was a bad idea to wear jeans on a day like today.

A day when you woke up painfully bloated, bleeding, and aching from your period. Out of all the days, you had to get it today.

You stood outside the library, your back against the red brick building. You wore a cute pink top with the flared jeans you were struggling with, and you added a cute little bow to hold your hair back.

You saw Seonghwa walk up to you. His lower half was also dawned in wonderfully-fitting jeans. They hugged his thighs, loosening a bit at his knees, and fell over a pair of sparkling clean white sneakers that looked like they were worth more than your car.

The white shirt was also slim against his lean frame. You held back any reaction you had like a damn cat in heat. “Hey,” he started as he neared. “Ready to go? We can go to the coffee shop on campus since we have class coming up.”

You nodded, hoping to god the smile on your face was not grimace-like.

“Yep, let’s go.”

You sat with your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers anxiously as Seonghwa waited for your drinks. You looked over at him, watching his figure lean against the closest wall, how his long, long legs looked in those damn pants, how his fingers tapped against his arm as he waited. You barely knew him, nothing much other than knowing his name and now his coffee order, and you wondered what it would be like to get to know him.

When he sat down in front of you, he handed you your coffee, a bright, blinding smile on his face. “I pegged you as the type to like ridiculously flavored seasonal drinks….” he paused, smirking, as you froze mid-sip on your….seasonal drink. Highly, highly sugary seasonal drink. “Guess I’m a good judge of character.”

You swallowed the party of sugar and cinnamon before giving him a shy smile. “I’m a sucker for them, to be honest.”

You sat quietly for a good while, sipping on your drink, him sipping on his. The feeling was…nice. However, you were a bit anxious as he looked at you, at your lips, as you drank from the straw.

“You’re a cheerleader for the basketball team, right?” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere—besides class, I mean.”

You nodded. “Yep, I cheer for the basketball team,” you took another sip of your drink. “Do you play? I think I would've seen you before, though.”

“Actually,” he started, offering you a kind smile. “I just transferred in from another university. I start official practice today, but I’ve been to many games already.”

Oh, so he’d seen you and known that you were on the cheer squad even before he approached you?

Cute.

“Oh, wow,” you smiled, leaning closer without realizing it. “So, will you be playing in the next game, then?”

“Yes,” he looked ecstatic, like he can't wait. “We’ll see how much playing time I actually get, though. Those guys are very good—”

“Oh, I know!” you didn't mean to interrupt him, but you would take any chance to brag about your Jongho. “My best friend is the point guard.”

“You know Jongho?” Seonghwa smiled, but it looked a bit weary. “He’s a great guy.”

“He really is.” you took a large sip of your coffee, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze as you did it. His gaze fluttered to your lips once more, and he licked his own.

He tapped against the wooden table. “Would you….want to do this again?”

You raised your brows. “This? You mean, getting coffee?”

“Not exactly,” he blinked, letting out a little chuckle. “Anything, just…we can hang out more, if you're down with that.”

Your heart fluttered a bit. “Ah, yeah, I would like that.”

He smiled. “Good,” he looked at the clock on the wall near your seat. “We gotta get to class.”

“Class, yeah, that’s right,” you were lost in his gaze, not even realizing how captivating his entire being was. You followed him out of the coffee shop, walking next to each other, until you got to the classroom.

He took the seat next to you this time, and you were beginning to suffocate from the feeling of his body being so close.

—

“I think I’m doomed.”

Jongho, like always, is in your room when you come back from practice. He sat up from his lazy position on your bed, eyebrows raised.

“Why’s that?”

You huffed, tossing your cheer bag onto the floor next to your desk. “What if he kisses me? I’ve never kissed anyone, fuck, I bet I’ll look like a fish trying to gulp fucking water—”

“God, you’ve been here for not even a minute, and you're blabbing on like a maniac already.” He blinked, his face deadpanned as he looked at you. “Why are you so concerned? Did the date go well?”

You groaned dramatically, tossing off your sneakers, and balancing yourself on the back of your desk chair. “He asked me for another date, but I know damn well what that means, and I can't let him find out that I am a twenty-something-year-old virgin that’s only ever kissed books and my mother.”

Jongho looked like he was about to burst out laughing at your desperate words, biting the inside of his cheek. He managed to squeak out, “Oh, I think you’re a lost cause,” he giggled. Giggled.

“This is not funny. You're no help,” you groaned, tossing your head back as you walked to your closet—when a perfect idea came to you.

“Wait a damn minute–”

“What is it now?” Jongho sat up on your bed, legs dangling off the side.

You turned around sharply, facing him, eyes wide with mischief. His eyes widened at your expression.

“Lend me your lips,” you said, walking up to him, but he leaned back in confusion, his arms holding himself behind him.

“What?” He scoffed, unable to meet your gaze. “The hell do you mean?”

You leaned over him on the bed, him unable to lean any further back without falling. You held yourself up on both sides of him. “Oh, come on. Just once. You can help me learn how to kiss. Who else could?”

He furrowed his brows. “You’re crazy.”

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I’d rather die than embarrass myself.”

“You do know,” He started, letting out a sigh. “That friends don't kiss each other? Or did you miss that memo?”

“I swear it won't mean anything,” you pleaded, knowing you were acting crazy, immature, whatever.

Jongho huffed, leaning forward, but grabbing your shoulders to move you away. “Listen,” he sighed, meeting your eyes. “Why don't you go ask San or Mingi?”

“Because San scares me,” you shrugged. “He’d probably eat me. And Mingi is….Mingi….”

“What does that even mean—”

“For fuck’s sake, Jongie,” you grabbed his shoulders. “Is this asking too much? We’ve been best friends for so long. How would something so trivial as a kiss mess with it?”

Jongho looked like he had something to say—a lot to say, actually. But he stayed quiet, sighing, as he looked up at you from his seated position on the bed.

“Okay, but if I have to kiss someone as filthy as you,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “What do I get out of it?”

You hummed. “Hmm. well, what do you want?”

He smiled mischievously. “Do my paper for me. For my lit class.”

“Easy, done,” you leaned forward. “Now gimme your lips—”

“Ah ah ah, slow down,” he scoffed. “You can't just toss yourself into the kiss. You have to lead into it.”

“Got it,” you blinked, looking into his golden brown eyes, noticing how…nice they were. “How do I do that?”

“Well, I bet he’ll try to kiss you first,” Jongho ran a hand through his fluffy brown hair, matching his eyes. You took note of it, too. He stood up, causing you to subconsciously step away from him. You both now stood in the middle of your dorm room, the room dimly lit by your desk lamp, the warm hue coloring the tanned skin of his face.

“Okay,” you nodded, almost freaking yourself out for noticing his details, the slight curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Jongho’s calloused hand slowly, hesitantly, moved towards your face. You watched his eyes as his fingertips brushed your skin, watching them scrunch, watching them focus on his movements. “Maybe he’d hold you like this,” he spoke softly, eyes jumping to yours, his hand twitching slightly.

“But what do I do?” you weakly jutted out, biting the corner of your bottom lip. “Do I…touch you—touch him, too?”

He shrugged, swallowing hard. “I mean, you do what comes naturally.”

He was so close. So close. It's not like you’ve never been closer to him, because you have, but something was suffocating. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

Maybe this is just how it’s supposed to feel.

You stared into his eyes, those brown eyes, those….sparkling, pretty eyes. You swallowed as his hand slid down to your chin, tilting it up softly.

There was an unknown emotion dancing in his gaze. You were extremely aware of the spark that was setting off from his touch.

He leaned in closer, and as he got closer and closer, you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest. You heard it in your ears, felt your stomach tighten.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said hushedly. You noticed that the tips of his ears were flushed red, and a dusting of the color was across his cheeks. When he pressed his lips to yours, you widened your eyes from the feeling, then shut them to savor it.

His mouth moved across yours, you felt the warmth of his lips, the softness of them. His other hand—the one that wasn't holding onto your chin, rested around your hip, his grip tightening.

You froze under his lips, unsure of how to do this. You moved your mouth against his, then, trying to move with his movements. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, unsure of what to do with them if you didn't do that. You felt a small smile in his kiss.

You pressed your body into him as his lips parted against yours. You felt the soft tickle of his shaky breaths against your skin—you could only imagine what you felt like to him.

He parted from you, only slightly, and took a sharp inhale. You still had your eyes shut tight, lips parted, as you got lost in the feeling.

You opened them, meeting his gaze, meeting that heart-shattering look he had. His lips were red like his ears, like his cheeks. His eyes were hazy, his hands still on you. You felt your heart crumbling inside you.

Without another word, you leaned back up to him, awkwardly wrapping your hand around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. He shut his eyes, and let out a pleasured sound, stirring something, awakening something inside.

You kissed him this time, even knowing that you had no idea what you were doing. You just trusted these instincts you were feeling, the emotions that were overtaking your mind. Your body told you to part your lips against his sweet lips, to savor the slightly salty taste against them. To lean into his body. You couldn't help but allow yourself to touch his waist, gliding your hand down his abs, his stomach, feeling his muscles tighten under your touch.

He sighed into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, his fingertips brushing the bare skin under your blouse. His lips felt so good, so soft, so electrifying. This feeling was unlike any other, you were beginning to lose your breath, your senses, your mind.

And when you let out a little moan—without intending to, you were shocked back to reality. You pulled away from him quickly, moving your hands to your sides, trying to catch your breath. Jongho was also huffing, begging for oxygen, as he stood in front of you. His lips were bright red now; his eyes were wide.

“Ah, um,” you cleared your throat, forcing out a laugh. “So, did I do a good job?”

Jongho blinked, still looking out of it. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.” He swallowed, nodded, and crossed his arms across his chest. “Mhm. For your first kiss, you did good.”

Good? Good? God, that felt euphoric. Like you were drugged, high, out in space. You still couldn't get your heartbeat to slow. “Great.” That was all you managed to squeak out, now that you were suddenly aware of the ability to just kiss him again. You realized that the air was odd now, that something felt different.

“You tasted like sweat,” you playfully added, letting out an awkward laugh as you gave him a shoulder punch. “Maybe I should've kissed San or Mingi instead.”

“I am a great kisser, I’ll have you know—” Jongho boasted, but you interrupted him.

“Pfft,” you waved a hand as if you weren't just about to hyperventilate from his kiss, his touch. “You sucked, you’re a horrible teacher—”

“Oh?” he huffed, gripping your arms just below your elbows. “I’ll kiss you again, I’ll prove it, I’ll do you one better—”

“Fine! More practice for me, anyway.”

Jongho let out a grumble of incoherent words before grabbing you by the back of the neck and pressing his mouth to yours once more, his lips gliding against yours.

You grabbed the fabric of his shirt, tightening your grip as he pushed his tongue through your lips, into your mouth. You let out a sigh as he did it, his fingertips gripping your hair on the back of your head.

After a long few minutes of eating each other, He pulled away this time. He let go of you, his hands falling at his sides. “There,” he breathed. “Now you know how to handle a kiss like that. You know, just in case.”

You licked your bottom lip, sparks still flying around your body. You tasted him still, the saltiness of his sweat. You smelled the woodsy cologne he used, the minty taste of gum.

“Thanks,” you smiled, trying your best not to let these thoughts of him overtake you. “For helping me with this. You’re such a good best friend.”

“Ah, yeah,” he sniffed, forcing a smile. “I should, uh. I should go, I have something to submit before midnight, so,” He gulped, taking a step away from you. “But happy to help, of course. Now you owe me my paper.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you scoffed, smiling playfully as he walked to the door to put on his shoes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he called out as he opened the door, leaving after you offered him a wave goodbye.

And once the door shut, you nearly lost your breath, falling onto your bed.

“Oh god,” you breathed, putting a hand to your mouth. “What was that? I—ugh!” you groaned, thrashing your legs around. “Why the fuck was he so hot? Get a grip, get a grip.” you ran your hands aggressively through your hair and gripping it. “Fuck I think my brain lost too much oxygen.”

You couldn't sleep one bit—not at all. Every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Jongho, and all you felt was him.

—

A few days pass and you barely see your best friend.

It's not that he’s ignoring you or vice versa; it's that he had an away game a good distance away and was off campus for a good few days.

While he was gone, you wondered if he was thinking the same way you were, if he felt something, too, or if it was just normal to have feelings during a kiss.

Irritated by your stupid mind, you were unsure about the feeling in your chest when you saw Jongho in the library; his baseball hat flipped backwards over his soft brown hair.

You would look odd if you ran away, right? Right.

You strutted over to where he was sitting. He always loved the window seats, mainly to people watch. You sat down in the seat across from him.

“When’d you get back?”

He lifted his eyes to yours. “Last night,” he grumbled, flipping a page in the book in front of him.

“What are you reading?” you leaned forward on your elbows.

He reacted much worse than you thought, flying backward into his chair, a terrified look on his face.

“Yo, I’m not gonna bite you, Jeez,” you raised a brow, moving your gaze to the book. “Oh, ew, anatomy. No thanks.”

He scoffed, picking off an invisible—or maybe an extremely small—piece of lint from his black hoodie. He didn't say anything in response, he just continued what he was doing.

“So,” you tried to continue the conversation with him without it turning to mush. “I’m gonna be going to Seonghwa’s frat tonight. There's a party or something.”

He looked at you with shock. “You’re going to a party?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” you rolled your eyes, leaning back to cross your arms around your chest. Jongho’s vision dipped to the movement.

“Well, given that you hate crowded places,” he trailed off, not really having another excuse. “I just can't see you going to—”

“y/n?” a voice softly murmured from your left, and both you and Jongho turned to see Seonghwa walking up to your table, a bag slung across his broad shoulder. His hair was pulled up in a half up half down do, little black strands framing his unfathomable face.

Jongho, in the corner of your eye, looked away from the tall basketball player, opting for the view outside the library.

“Seonghwa?” you smiled, uncrossing your arms to look less like a grumpy bitch. “What’s up?”

You didn't even look to see the irritation on Jongho’s face.

“I was coming in to study but then I saw you in the corner of my eye,” he smiled, beamed, really, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He then nodded to Jongho, offering him a smile, too. “Hey, Jongho.”

Your best friend managed to give him a smile back, although you knew his face all too well—that was a damn grimace. “Hey.”

You looked between the two boys as seonghwa spoke again. “Hey, me and y/n are gonna be at the party tonight. You wanna come? The other guys on the team will be there, too.”

“Well, I can't imagine San missing a function,” Jongho scoffed, cracking his knuckles aggressively. “But I guess I’ll come, too.”

You nearly dropped your jaw onto the floor.

“Really?” you interjected, shocked. “I can't imagine you going to a party—”

“Anyway,” Jongho cleared his throat, ignoring you. “What time?”

Seonghwa furrowed his brows as he tried to recall. “Uh, I think ten? It goes till two, no later,” He looked to you then. “Do you wanna go for some lunch?”

You blushed. Jongho huffed. “Oh, yes. That would be nice,” you smiled, to which Jongho rolled his eyes in response. You stood up from your seat and offered your best friend a playful wink. “See you tonight, jongie.”

When you walked away, seonghwa slugged an arm around your shoulder on the way out. Jongho, still in his seat, tightened his grip on the textbook as he watched you leave.

And then he couldn't even enjoy people-watching when he saw you walk down the sidewalk with that string bean.

—

You didn't hear from jongho the rest of the day, and even when ten o’clock came, he was M.I.A. You shrugged it off, trying too hard to ignore the tug in your chest, the desire to go to his room and kiss him again.

You made it to the frat house that sat on the end of the Greek life strip in town. It was a tall, skinny building that looked way too nice to be lived in by a bunch of boys. You made sure to wear your filthy Converse, knowing damn well whether booze, puke, or a plethora of other fluids would end up all over them. Despite not going to many parties in your lifetime, you still had common sense.

You walked into the house, getting bombarded with tons of odd smells, some good and some bad. The interior was dark, lit with random colored lights that danced all over the walls, the people.

Loud, ungodly music blared through oddly positioned speakers in the wall, and there was a sea of people talking and carrying on. You weren't sure how the fuck they could hear each other over the awful music.

You walked further into the house, making a B-line to where you assumed the alcohol was. There was a bunch of beer cans, and you grabbed one with ease, cracking it open and chugging it like a champ. However, the beer sucked ass, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. You must've made a face.

“Icky?” Seonghwa’s smooth voice envelopes you with comfort.

You turn to him, offering him a sincere smile. He looked great, as always, with his hair growing even longer. “Very, but if it gets me drunk, I’ll handle it.”

“So brave,” he chuckled, standing closer to you by the second. Your mind wanders to the thought of him touching you. Would it feel as good as it did with Jongho? Would his hands be gentle? Would his lips taste as sweet?

His hand on the small of your back interrupted your thoughts.

You needed to be drunk. Quick, so you can handle these stupid ideas.

“It’s good to see you here,” he starts, but you can't help but look at his lips. You weren't thinking about them—no, rather, you were thinking of Jongho’s. Would Seonghwa feel the same?

You took another sip of your drink to get the last drop before grabbing another. “Do they have something else? This shit sucks.”

Seonghwa looked at you for a long moment before nodding in a direction. “There’s vodka in the cabinet if you want it?”

You let out a sigh of relief, but still, you kept drinking the shitty beer. “Yes, god, yes.”

After you got ahold of the vodka, you regretted your choice against the beer.

You must've blacked out for a bit—you don't remember how you got in the living room, how you got onto Seonghwa’s lap, how his lips were on your neck. You delightfully craned your neck to feel it better, to feel his hot breaths, his hands on your waist. However, when you opened your eyes, you realized that you were imagining someone else under you.

You pulled away from him, but you didn't get off him. You looked into his eyes, seeing the desire drip from them. You were too messed up—blame that on your shitty tolerance, to care what you were doing right now. “Can I try something?” you fluttered your eyelashes, not meaning it in a sultry way, but it came out that way.

“Of course,” Seonghwa mused, a little smile prickling at his lips.

Lips that you wanted to kiss—not because you needed to, but because you needed to see something, feel something—have something to compare to that ethereal experience you had with your best friend.

And at his approval, you leaned forward, doing everything that you were taught, and pressed your lips to Seonghwa’s. He responded well, gripping the back of your head as he kissed you back, and you slid your tongue in his mouth, half expecting to feel something, anything.

But there you were, imagining Jongho, his smell, his taste, the way he cautiously touched you and held you. Nothing can compare, not even this.

You pulled away from him, eyebrows raised, mouth agape. He looked confused at your reaction but put on a sloppy smile. “Everything okay?”

You were going to say no. you were going to cry out and say that you were going to die because you kept thinking about Jongho. You couldn't even kiss a hot guy, a guy you wanted to date, without thinking how much better it felt with Jongho. Everything felt better with him. It was comfortable, unnerving, exciting, all at the same time.

You smiled, but with how drunk you were, you could assume that it looked like a grimace. “I uh, yeah, I just gotta….go do something—-bye,” you huffed out, offering him a little, awkward wave, before you ran out of the spinning room.

You ended up on the back porch, not sure how you got there, but the world was spinning. Your chest was aching. You needed air, anything, you needed to breathe.

The cool air hit you just right, enveloping your lungs, helping you breathe. Your skin was hot, flaming underneath your clothes, and you were sure your cheeks were bright red. After noticing a couple making out in the corner, you grimaced and ran back into the house.

God, what a shitshow.

You avoided seonghwa narrowly, making your way up the creaky, thin staircase to get your own space. You opened the first door you got to, tossed yourself in, and slammed your back against the door with a sigh of relief.

That relief didn't last long.

“y/n, what the hell?” Jongho nearly screeched, turning his body slightly as he stood over the toilet, zipping up his pants in a frenzy. “The fuck? Don't you know how to knock?”

You didn't say anything. You just took a deep breath, your gaze falling over him.

“y/n?” He repeated, standing a bit awkwardly on the other side of the room, leaning over to flush the toilet. He looked a bit rough around the edges as he washed his hands quickly, looking over at you as he dried them. He walked up to you now, hesitantly, unsure about your expression.

You fiddled with your fingers as the world slowed around you.

“Are you gonna talk?” He scoffed playfully, his eyes raking your body, forcing themselves up to your face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you swallowed, shaking your head, the door behind you the only thing holding you up.

He gave you a concerned look, running a damp hand through his silky hair, and you couldn't help but think about how wonderful it would be to rake your hands through it, too. “No, that you're not okay, or no, that you’re not gonna talk?

You blinked. “....yes.”

He sighed. His eyes looked hazy, not quite to the extent yours probably looked, but still, he was not in his right mind, either. You took a shaky breath, watching those brown irises fall to your lips, to your chest.

You clench your fingers together, your body, dying to do something your heart would regret. You swallowed hard, sighing.

“Aren’t you acting like this because you have something to say?” He asked, his words dripping like honey from his lips.

You shook your head. “No.”

He looked like he was fighting a smile. “I think you are.”

“No, I’m not–I’m not acting like this because I have something to say.” Your mind was already screaming at you, begging you not to do anything. Begging you not to say anything. “Because I want to do something.”

The air was stuffy. The bathroom was filthy, the window was cracked open, blowing in a slight breeze, gently running up your arms, sending chills down your spine.

Jongho tilted his head. “To do what?”

The vodka in your basically vodka-virgin body was bubbling under your skin, infiltrating your mind, your blood. It was taking control over your every move, every idea, everything. So when he asked you that, when he looked like the most beautiful person in the world as he spoke, with his pretty ass hair and his lips and his flushed cheeks, you knew what you wanted to do.

“To kiss you,” you didn't stutter. You stayed put against the door despite your words. “I just wanna do it again. Every time I look at you, I want to do it.”

Jongho’s eyes widened, but he didn't run away like you thought he would. He just stood there, breathlessly, his hands at his sides and his mouth parted. It’s like he wanted to do it too, with the way his fingers twitched as you spoke, with the way his lips almost curled up completely.

You pushed off the door, taking a step towards him. When he didn't back away, you took another step. You were so close to him that you were able to feel the soft, hot breaths he was letting out against your skin. His breath smelled like that disgusting beer, but it didn't matter at all—actually, you wanted to taste it on his lips, on his tongue.

You reached out a hand, the room spinning around you. Your fingertips met his cheek, his hot skin. You felt a surge of electricity run through your body as you touched him, as you looked into his eyes. His gaze was unlike anything else you have ever seen. His eyes were zeroed in on you, shutting slowly as you rubbed your hand against his skin. He let out a soft breath, a content sigh, and his eyes were on yours again.

He took in a breath, eyes on your lips. You were too drunk to think about how the look on his face made no sense—friends shouldn't look at each other the way he was looking at you.

You leaned forward, and when he didn't flinch away, when he actually leaned forward as well, you smiled to yourself, and pressed your lips to his.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his body to yours. His hips knocked into yours, his mouth parting, swallowing you whole. He shoved you against the sink, the countertop stabbing the small of your back, but you felt absolutely no pain. You arched your body into his, as if it were instinct, and his hands ravaged your bare skin. He was desperate, trying to catch his breath as best he could while he kissed you.

Your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers tightening in his brown hair. He let out a little moan into your mouth, his hands caging you in against the sink. Accidentally, his forehead bumped yours, causing you to bite his lip.

You pulled away, but just for a moment, smiling at him, at the redness of his lips from your gloss and your bite. He looked breathtaking in front of you, so human, so perfect. So you leaned in to kiss him again, nose knocking into his, but it didn't matter if you were sloppy. It just mattered that he was the one you were kissing.

“y/n,” he breathed against your lips, his hands now on your hips, one curving around your ass. “We shouldn't be doing this—”

“Shh,” you hissed, slapping his shoulder, keeping your lips against his. “I don't care right now.”

You deepened the kiss, and as he pressed up against you, you felt something hard press into you; you felt a deep rumble from him into your mouth. The pool between your thighs.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened. Mingi stood there, his jaw down to the floor, as he took in the scene in front of him. Jongho must not have heard the door, as his hands were still clawing at you like a goddamn animal, his lips on your neck now. You quickly gripped Jongho’s shoulders and pushed him away.

“What? You just said—” He took notice of where you were looking, turning his head to see Mingi’s shocked expression. “Oh.”

“Oh, dear god!” Mingi looked like he couldn't hide the smile peeking through his lips. “I knew it!”

Jongho took a whole century taking his hands off you, finally stepping away, leaving you cold, empty. “It’s not what you think—”

Mingi threw his hands up in the air, smirking. “Ay, I didn't see anything. Carry on.”

With one last look, Mingi shut the door, leaving you alone with Jongho. The feeling in the room was completely different from a moment ago.

“I….” he started, then sighed, unable to look at you. “I gotta go.”

“Jongho—” You went to move toward him, but he left the bathroom as quickly as he could, stumbling into the doorframe, and out of sight. You were left to your own devices, standing in the middle of the bathroom, hair a mess, lips bright and painful, and a mark on your neck from your best friend.

If you could call him that…

—

It’s as if he disappeared.

You haven't seen Jongho in days. You were even too nervous to go to his room this time, not knowing how to approach him after kissing him like that. After you felt the hardness of his cock against your stomach. The wetness between your thighs. Something you have never felt before.

After a few, empty, lonely nights in your room, you took the initiative to go find him at the late hour of midnight—To ask if he feels this intense craving for you just like you do for him. But when you arrived at his dorm, San told you he wasn't there.

“He’s been super sick. I thought he was with you,” He shrugged, confused.

“He’s sick?” your eyes widened.

San nodded, messy hair from sleep. “Sorry, maybe he’s with Mingi?”

After your encounter with San, you made your way to Mingi’s dorm. But, once again, Jongho was nowhere to be found.

So you went to the only place you thought to look.

And there he was, under the bright lights, taking a shot at the three-point line on the courts near the rec center. He missed the shot and stood there a moment before going to grab his rebound.

But the ball rolled to where you were, as if it meant to. Jongho stood still as you grabbed the ball.

He stayed silent. You weren't sure whether to move closer or just pass him the ball back.

“Are you going to give me it?” He spoke blandly, sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold air surrounding him.

You sighed, putting the ball under your arm. “Jongho, it’s cold out here.”

He sniffed, his nose red. He didn't look at you. “Just give me the ball, dammit.”

You blinked, watching the cold air show as you exhaled. “Why are you ignoring me?”

He rolled his eyes, taking in a breath. “Dammit, y/n—”

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you began to dribble the ball—very sloppily, but it didn't matter. You dribbled past him towards the hoop, tossing the ball up, watching it go through the net. “Ignoring me, I mean.”

“No, I’m not,” he huffed, moving to grab the ball from your shot. He made his way back up to the top of the key, away from you.

“Yes, you are.” you walked up to him, putting your hand out so he couldn't shoot. “Just be honest!”

With a huff of cold air, jongho tossed the ball away, an aggravated look on his face. “For fuck’s sake, y/n, Yes. I’m annoyed.”

You blinked, standing only a few feet away from him. “Why?” you asked, probably stupidly, given the irritated look on his face.

He sighed, tightening his hands into fists. “...Because….because I’m a man, too, you know.” he started, running his hands through his hair aggressively, clenching his jaw. “ You change in front of me, kiss me, do everything that causes my brain to spin. I’m sick of acting like I'm okay with it.”

You stood there, frozen. The air felt even colder as winter wrapped its arms around your bare skin.

“Does that mean you didn't like it?” you wondered out loud, possibly too immature, too inexperienced. You had no idea what you were feeling, why you felt this way. All you knew is that you wanted to spend every moment with him, to kiss him, to lay in bed with him. Things you did normally, but things felt different.

“Didn't like what?” He asked, his eyes wide.

“The kiss,” you looked into his eyes. “The kisses.”

Jongho stood tensely, unsure of what to do. You watched his eyes flicker up to the sky as little flurries fell, catching themselves in his hair.

“y/n,” he took a sharp breath in. “don't you get it? I can't kiss you. You can't kiss me. You can't….touch me like that, change in front of me, and not expect me to get flustered!” He nearly shouted the last part, and turned to the side away from you, aggravated beyond words.

“I….I’m sorry,” you spoke out, taking a step towards him. “I’m sorry that I feel this way—”

“Feel what?” he scoffed, turning back to you, a pained smirk on his lips. “You should be sorry for making me feel this….for causing me so many headaches, for god sake why the fuck am I out here when it’s fucking snowing, jesus christ you piss me off—”

“Jongho,” you interrupted his freakout, his word vomit. He stared at you with those beautiful eyes of his. “What are you trying to say?” you spoke in a small voice.

His eyes were frantic, going back and forth from eye to eye. “I…. can't do this.”

“Do what?” you felt the flurries dance against your skin, dance as they fell around you.

“I can't act like your friend anymore.” He bit his lip. “You have no idea what you do to me. What you’ve been doing to me.”

You took a step closer, but he backed away.

“I don't understand—”

“Just go,” He pleaded.

“You do things to me too!” you groaned, finally done with his attitude. “Will you knock it off? You’re not the only one confused here—”

“Oh, I confuse you?” He looked at you like you had two heads. “I’m sorry, I only kissed you because you were trying to get another guy. I kissed you so you could know how to do it, but you want to know something?” He paused, suddenly right up on you, the space gone between you. “I haven't kissed anyone either. I just…you. It’s just been you! I didn't know what I was doing, either!”

“Is that so bad?” you pleaded, your eyes bleeding into his. “Is it so bad that you had to kiss me? Should I apologize for wanting to do it again? That I haven't stopped thinking about you since?” you frantically looked into his eyes.

“Just…” Jongho sighed, his eyes a bit watery. “Lleave me be.”

The look on his face was enough. You took a step back, and then another.

“I won't apologize for my feelings, for whatever this feeling is,” you admitted. “But I am sorry I caused you trouble.” before you left him there, you looked up to him once more, snow falling around you. “Good luck at your game, tomorrow.”

You turned on your heel, not understanding a single thing that just unfolded, that was just said. He made no sense; you made none, either. It was just a bunch of words, unnecessary words, rifting your friendship. But one thing was for certain—you couldn't repair this without a few missing pieces.

Jongho stood as still as a statue as he watched you walk away.

—

You sat on the bench in your cheerleading uniform, your heart beating a mile a minute as you watched the game unfold in front of you.

It was approaching halftime. Jongho was sprinting down the sideline, limping slightly as he moved. He passed the ball beautifully to San, who was wide open for the layup.

You couldn't focus on anything—didn't even cheer when San made the shot. You just sat and stared into space, your eyes following jongho, watching his wince as he backed up down the court.

“He’s hurt,” you muttered under your breath, stomach tightening.

Jongho continued playing his heart out, but you knew something was wrong. However, as halftime came, he walked away from the court just fine and into the locker room, not giving you a single passing glance as he walked past you. Seonghwa did, however, but you weren't even paying attention to that.

After a few long moments, the team came back out. You had to cheer, but your heart wasn't in it. Jongho, once again, walked right by you, and when you were about to jump up and ignore everything that was said yesterday to make sure you were okay, the buzzer rang.

The game went on, the score going back and forth until the last quarter. Jongho stood at mid-court, calling a play, but the guy guarding him was aggressive. He tried to make a move around him, squeaking his sneakers against the hardwood, but it was no use. The defender followed him with ease, sliding his feet in perfect position.

The gym was in hysterics as Jongho pushed for the bucket, taking a side step into a euro step, but suddenly, oh so suddenly, Jongho crashed to the ground in a thud before getting the shot off.

The gym went silent. Jongho hissed in pain, his eyebrows knit tight. The athletic trainer ran out to see him as the game was put on hold with less than a minute to go. You stood up, not even realizing what you were doing. All you could feel was a pain in your chest as you saw him hurt, the intense feeling to take his pain away. You watched in despair as he was lifted off the floor, as he was carried out of the gym.

You swallowed hard, your ears ringing. Your teammates tried to get you focused, as the game was going to continue, but you jumped up and pushed through, making your way to the locker room desperately.

“Jongho?” you panted, turning the corner to enter the boy's locker room. You sucked in a breath as you see him in pain, lying down on the bench, a few others around him as he nearly cried in pain.

“Jongho!” you cried out, rushing to his side. His eyes were frantic, wide, a mess. The trainer took off his knee brace slowly as you approached. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Jongho met your gaze through his watery eyes, every other emotion gone other than…whatever this was. He almost let out a sigh of relief as he saw you. You knelt down next to him, gripping his hand, and he held yours tighter.

“y/n,” he murmured, sucking in a sharp breath as the trainer surveyed his leg. “Did I…did I do it again? Please tell me I didn't—”

You looked at the man who was assessing his injury. “Did he tear it again?” you panicked, remembering how awful this was for him back then. How traumatizing it was, how horrible it was for him to gain his strength again. You couldn't stand to see him in pain.

“I…I don't know,” the man admitted. “It’s too swollen to tell. You’ll need to get this checked out—”

“Goddammit,” Jongho hissed, shutting his eyes tightly, and swallowing hard. That was when you realized that it might not even be the pain from the injury—no, it was his trauma. The memory of his hard work all down the drain.

“I’m here,” you breathed, tucking his hair behind his ear and away from his face. “It’ll be okay.”

The buzzer rang, and screams followed. Jongho looked at you, not a care in the world other than that you were there with him, just like before.

“You’ll be alright,” you repeated softly, your heart aching at his pain. “This will be okay.”

—

“From the MRI, it looks like everything is still intact,” the doctor spoke with a tone of arrogance. “You did weaken your surgical graft, however. You’ll need some PT and rest.”

Jongho stared down at his leg, his hand still gripping yours. He breathed a sigh of relief but didn't say anything else.

“I’ll write up a referral for that, so just hold on a moment.”

You were left in silence in the middle of the emergency room, Jongho sitting up straight on the bed with a big icepack on top of his knee. He was starting right at it, his lips downturned.

You wanted to ease his troubles. To make him feel better. Nothing felt worse than seeing him like this.

You didn't know what to say. You really couldn't say anything. You were so overwhelmed with the pain you felt as you looked at him as if it were your own. You hated his tears that begged to fall and never did.

“Hey,” you mumbled softly, squeezing his hand. It took him a minute to move his gaze to you, and when he did, his eyes spoke a thousand words. “See? It will be okay.”

He sighed, his face contorting as he fought his tears. “I…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you weren't thinking of anything else other than what was in front of you. You rubbed your thumb against his knuckles, trying to soothe him.

“For how I acted.” He looked down at your hands, how yours was touching his, how his fingers were tight around yours. He didn't want to let go—neither did you. “I was just upset.”

“I know,” you nodded, swallowing. “I was, too.”

He looked into your eyes. “y/n, I…” he paused, the beeping of his heart rate speeding up in the background. “I just don't know why I acted like that I…I guess I got caught up in how I feel about you, and it confused me.”

You blinked. “How do you feel about me?”

He let out an uneasy laugh. “Isn't it obvious?”

You shook your head. “I… don't really know much of anything. Much of these feelings,” you acknowledged, biting your bottom lip anxiously.

He let out a genuine laugh. “Me too.”

“So, how do you feel?” You tucked a piece of your hair that fell loose from your bow, suddenly aware of how much of a wreck you probably looked like. You were still in your cheer uniform, Jongho in his basketball one, and you were sure you had smeared mascara everywhere. “About me, I mean.”

He took in a sharp breath. “This isn't fair, I’m like, high from pain meds. I don't know what i’m saying.”

You smiled widely, feeling such immense love for the man in front of you.

Oh shit.

Are you….in love?

“All I know is that I haven't stopped thinking about you since I met you,” He chuckled anxiously. “I don't understand why, and it's just increasingly worse after you keep kissing me, it's making my head spin.”

Jongho yawned slightly after his somewhat confession, his eyes fluttering.

He was so pretty. So, so pretty. You wanted to sleep with him. Next to him, cuddle with him, kiss his face, his eyelids, his cheeks, his everything. You wanted him to do everything to you that you dreamed of.

Oh fuck, you definitely are in love with him.

“Holy fuck—” you paused, staring at him, wide eyed at your realization.

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

You tried to control your overwhelming thoughts. “I just realized something…” you met his gaze, holding onto it tightly. “Are we…are we in love? I mean, I think at least I might be—”

“Holy shit, we might be,” Jongho gulped, a knowing smile curling at his lips. As if he knew this, at least on his end, for much longer than you have. He looked at you, then at his leg, and back at you. “Are you in love with me?”

“I think so?” you questioned, your chest aching. Jongho’s heart began to beat faster and faster, as seen on the monitor next to him. You leaned towards him, blushing as his heart rate jumped over one hundred.

Jongho let out an anxious laugh. “You sound super confident.”

You would've kissed him right then and there, prove to him that you loved him, if it wasn't for that awful doctor.

You helped jongho hobble out of the hospital, his leg wrapped in ice and his arms wrapped around you. You were hyper aware of the smell of sweat, the light remnant of his woodsy cologne. You heard his breath hitch as your fingertips curled around his arm as you walked toward the street for a cab.

“God, standing up really messed me up.” he wobbled a bit. “I don't know what they gave me, but fuck, I feel wonderful,” he giggled, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.

There was a mix of comfort and chaos as you got in the cab, his head on your shoulder, his hair a mess. His arm was slung over you, his eyes closed, his lips parted against your collarbone. He felt comforting, yes, but also his damn lips started to move against your skin.

“Jongho,” you breathed, trying to keep quiet as the cab driver carried on. “Stop it—”

“Mmmh,” he groaned into your neck, kissing it again, trailing up towards your jawline.

“The fuck, did they give you viagra?” you nearly choked as his hand that was around your shoulder fell to your waist, tightening on the curve above your hip. His hand moved lower, past your hip, meeting the curve right before he could reach your—

“Hey,” you whisper yelled, smacking his cheek lightly.

He opened his eyes, those brown irises sparkling despite the dark car. “Oh, its y/n,” he smiled, meeting your gaze, but you watched it fall to your lips. “You look pretty.”

You scoffed. “You don't know what you're talking about right now—”

“Oh, I do,” he smiled lopsidedly, his hand now coming up to cradle your cheek. “I know what i’m doing.”

You smirked. “I think you’re loopy.”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugged, smiling, his eyes curving into smiles too. “But I know what I want to do.”

You tilted your head, raising your brows. “And what’s that?”

He smiled villianously, teeth barred. “Do you really want to know?”

You held in your laugh, but managed to nod.

He took in a breath, letting it out in an exaggerated sigh. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he huffed, his head falling right back onto your shoulder. “So, so bad. I’ve always wanted to—”

“Jongho,” you blinked. “You’re high from pain meds, you don't know what you're—”

“Oh, but I do know,” he sat up quickly, eyes dazed, hair a mess on top of his head. He reached out a hand, tucking your hair behind your ears with a boyish smile. He focused on your face, on your eyes, your lips. His expression changed, his smile falling. “I wanted to tell you about how I feel about you.”

You bit your lip. “You did.”

He waved a hand, flopping it around. “Nah, I didn't.”

“Yes, don't you remember?” you scoffed playfully. “We just had this whole talk like twenty minutes ago—”

“Aye, stop it, I had something to say but now I forgot!” he groaned, tossing his head back against the headrest. He then turned his head to your direction. “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

“You just did,” you smiled.

“Oh, that’s right.” he swallowed, looking at your lips. “Did I ever tell you that I want to kiss you? Like, all the time?”

You shook your head, giving up on the fight against his high ass.

“Well, I just want to kiss you, over and over again, and then when you started kissing me, I think I went crazy,” he blinked slowly, eyes covering every inch of your face. He leaned forward. “You really fucked me up, you know?”

You frowned. “Did I?”

“Pfft,” he huffed. “Are you kidding? You would change in front of me, lay in bed with me, touch me, everything I….” he swallowed hard. “How was I supposed to react to your tits? Your ass? You think i’ve never gotten hard from it?” you wanted to shut his nonsense up, but he kept going on. “I’ve had to literally leave just to jack off so you didn't find out—”

“Woah, woah,” you rose your eyebvrows. “You’re a mess right now, youll regret what you’re saying tomorrow—”

“I wont,” he sniffed, eyes meeting yours. “I’m done with acting like I don't think about you naked—”

“Jongho, shut it, we’re not alone—”

“We should be alone so I can do everything I want to you,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. “God, I want to do everything to you.”

You wanted to push him away. You wanted to tell him no—but…his lips, his words, his breath felt so good, so intoxicating. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, to the corner of your lips. “Can we fuck now?”

You closed your eyes, taking in a breath. “The hell is wrong with you? We’re in a cab—”

He ignored you, his lips continuing to find their way around your face. “When we get back?”

You looked down at his knee, how it was wrapped, how much pain it had caused him. “You just hurt your leg, and you’re not in your right mind.”

“Oh, i’m completely in my right mind,” he kissed your ear, letting a little breath of air tickle you. “I’ve wanted this forever.”

You sighed, your breath shaking, your chest tight. You had absolutely no experience—you’ve never had sex, never did anything with a man other than what you were doing now, and the little kiss you gave seonghwa.

“I’m a virgin,” you whispered softly, embarrased. However, you felt the most comfortable with jongho. He was your everything.

“So am I,” he admitted, smiling. “We can learn together.”

“God, we’re so lame,” you breathed, smiling.

Jongho, however, did not care about any words. He nuzzled into your collarbone, pressing a kiss there, over and over again.

“So, does that mean we can have sex?”

—

You assisted jongho into your building, helping him into the elevator and pressing your floor while he leaned against the wall.

The silence was deafening. You were sure he was able to hear your heart beat through your chest.

As the doors closed, you let a sigh out.

“y/n,” he breathed. Behind you, his eyes were on you.

“Hm?” you hummed, afraid to turn to him, afraid of what you would do, what he would do.

“I love you,” he spoke.

You’ve both basically said it only an hour before. Only then, it didn't feel real. Now, maybe it was the fact that Jongho’s eyes have cleared up, his expression was raw. He looked nervous, he looked anxious. This was all new, all foreign—but Jongho wasn't new, wasn't different. He’s always been him, been by your side, your rock, your everything.

“I….love you too, dummy.”

When the elevator reached your floor, it took you a second to move. You helped him down the hall, and when you reached your door, you paused.

“Do you…want to…” you trailed off, unsure if that was only the drugs talking earlier.

When you turned to jongho, he had a sinister smile on his face.

“You mean,” he nodded toward your room. “What I think you mean?”

“Well, jeez,” you scoffed, turning around to open your door. “As if you weren't the one all over me in the cab—”

A second later, you both stood in the entrance of your room, both of your hearts beating like crazy.

He entered the room after you, slowly shutting the door. The room was dark—you weren't even trying to turn the lights on.

You turned to jongho, watching him stand with his fists at his sides, his fingers gripping the fabric of his basketball shorts.

“How do we…” you took in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze. His eyes were wide, dripping with love, lust, with so much. You weren't sure if they always looked like that, if they looked at you like that. Those eyes….

“Let’s just, he winced a bit as he stepped closer. “Just stay where you are.”

When he got close enough, you saw the worry in his expression. The hesitancy, the love. He looked up, and his eyes spoke a thousand unspeakable words. His hand reached out, pausing at the hem of your cheerleading uniform.

You let out an anxious laugh at his face, as he looked so conflicted. You didn't say anything though, and after a moment, he tugged your top right over your head, grinning like a goofball at the red lacy bra you had on.

“For me?” he murmured, his hand subconsciously drifting to run over your skin, his fingertips pressing against the thin fabric of your bra. He met your gaze, his jaw tightening.

You reached for his top now, the loose jersey easily pulling over his head—the jersey that was hiding the soft curves of muscle. You’ve seen him shirtless many times, an unimaginable amount of times—but this time, it was different. You ran a hand down the pane of his chest, across the mounds of muscle, down his soft but muscular frame. He was perfect, absolutely sexy, breathtaking, gorgeous.

He shivered under your touch, meeting your gaze. He moved to take his shorts off, but winced. “Hold on, i’ll take them off—” but you both leaned down at the same time, crashing your heads together, causing a storm of laughter.

“God, we’re so not good at this,” He chuckled, smiling bright even in the dark room.

“No, not really,” you grinned, reaching down at his hips, pulling his shorts off, tugging a bit at the erection that bulged out. You held in your pride, the fact that he was already so turned on by just taking your clothes off.

His shorts fell down to his ankles, his underwear with them, leaving him completely naked, completely vulnerable in front of you. He looked at you with those damn eyes, those irises that held every emotion possible for you.

You took a second to take him in, his thickness, his length. You swallowed hard, suddenly aware that…that would go inside you, and it would probably tear your virgin self to shreds.

He then gripped the waistband of your skirt, tugging you to him. He was slightly taller than you, so when your body hit his, you felt his cock against your lower stomach, feeling a pulsing ache in your body. His fingers glided against the bare skin of your waist as he pulled your skirt over your hips, and when they fell, you were left standing in your mismatched underwear, begging him to take it off of you, too.

However, he just stood there like a deer in headlights, staring at the curves of your body, and the smoothness of your skin. His mouth parted, his eyes grew wide, and his hands twitched to touch you, to ravage you, to swallow you whole as if you were roadkill and he was a vulture.

An anxious vulture.

He reached around you, the heat of his body warming you, and his hands clasped around the clip of your bra. He fiddled with it for a good moment, and as he started getting irritated that he couldn't get it, you laughed. “Goddamn this thing has you locked up like fort knox—”

“Do you want me to get it—”

“No, no, i’ll be extremely embarassed, let me do it.” he continued to try to get it off you, and finally, it fell off you, onto the ground, and Jongho stood with a proud smile on his lips. “Fuck yeah, finally.”

But, right after his words of triumph, his eyes fell to your full breasts. His eyes widened, and he gave into his desires, letting himself grab one, calloused fingers gliding against your nipple.

“Oh, fuck y/n,” he breathed, both his hands coming up to cradle your breasts, to feel you up. He took in a breath, eyes unable to leave your body. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

He dipped his head, taking in a breast into his mouth, flicking his tongue over your nipple. You felt your stomach tighten, felt your wetness pool at your thighs. He looked up to your eyes as he sucked, and when he saw your ecstatic expression, he quickly pulled away.

He didn't spare an extra second to claw at your underwear, satisfyingly watching them fall to the ground, leaving you both completely naked in the middle of the room. He looked at you, love dripping from his chocolate eyes.

And thats when you gripped the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I don't do this very well,” you admitted, twirling your fingers in his hair. He didn't seem to even hear what you said as his eyes remained on your lips.

“God, we cant be friends anymore,” he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, he hesitated, lips hovering over yours, his breath shaky, tangling with yours. “Definetly not, fuck.”

You tilted your chin forward, lips so close, so so close. His hands found your hips, fingernails leaving marks in your skin.

And with one last look into your eyes, jongho sighed, letting go of everything. He pressed his soft lips to yours, taking you in like he hasn't kissed you before. Like he’s always wanted to. He breathed into you, moving his hands to cradle your face, to get as close to you as possible.

You arched your body against his, bucking your hips into his, and he grunted in response. You fell backwards onto the bed, him on top of you, but as you fell, he bit your lip so hard you let out a little yelp.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, parting from you, eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay? Did that hurt? I didn't mean to do that—-”

“Shh, shut your face,” you patted him on the cheek, giggling at his reaction.

He adjusted himself on top of you. “Here, make sure you’re head’s on your pillow, I want you to be comfortable.” he adjusted you, too, and he looked so sincere and serious it made you laugh. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, but couldn't help but let out a little chuckle, too. “Stop, this is serious.”

You laughed even more. “Sorry, sorry, you’re just really cute.” you watched his eyes twinkle as he looked at you. “And you look so pretty on top of me.”

He smirked, holding back his giggle. “Stop it.”

“I’m just saying,” you reached a hand out to wrap around his neck, tugging his lips right back down to yours, kissing him softly. “Mhm. I cant get enough of this.”

He smiled into the kiss. “Me neither, I cant believe you’re under me right now.”

You couldn't help the blush that heated your cheeks. You were suddenly aware of his dick against your thighs, of your skin against his. You looked into his eyes, looked at how they were looking at you, how he held himself over you.

And then, after a look of utter love, he smiled and kissed you. This time, he stuck his tongue into your mouth, running over the ridges of the roof of your mouth. You opened your mouth wider, deepening the kiss, knocking your nose against his.

His lips parted as he gasped for air, his chest heaved against yours. His hand delicately glided up your ribs, meeting the skin of your breasts. He gripped your breast in his hand, moaning into your mouth, hips bucking into yours. You couldve sworn you felt his heartbeat through his chest as he made out with you, as his hands covered you. He pulled away only to make sure you still wanted this, and when you nodded, he reached down to line himself up with you. The concept of sex always felt so difficult. So worrisome, so new. But with jongho, it felt like you've done this forever.

“If it hurts, tell me,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you gently. “I’ll take care of you.”

You literally couldve came at those words. You swallowed hard, and forced out a nod.

He pecked your lips, smiling, kissing them again. His hands hesitated, not knowing what to touch as his tip pressed into your cunt, his breath shortening, sweat dripping down his forehead.

You reached out, gliding a hand across his cheek, across his lips, smiling up at him.

“I….” he hesitated before entering you. “Are you wet enough? Should I spit?”

He looked terrified. Absolutely terrified. So you ran a hand soothingly through his hair, watching his eyes shut tight in pleasure, in delight. “Don't worry about anything and just do it.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, letting out a little laugh. “Okay, okay.”

And then, his eyes bled into yours as he tilted his hips, pushing his cock slowly into you, so gently, as if he was terrified of hurting you. You watched his mouth part, watched his expression change to euphoria as he filled you, every inch sparking a new feeling.

He snapped his hips, his length fully in you, and you nearly cried out from the feeling. You moaned as he moved slowly, clawing at his shoulders, this feeling unlike anything else—your damn vibrator held nothing on Jongho.

He relaxed his expression, his eyes fluttering open, looking right down on you. You met his gaze as he moved in and out of you.

“Does it hurt, if it hurts, I can stop—”

“Shut the hell up and fuck me, jongho,” you grumbled, your hands finding a home on his hips, the feeling of them snapping under your hands sent you spiraling. You moaned as his dick reached a new spot, as you felt your walls tighten around him. You wanted to cry out, rip your hair out, tear at his skin as you felt the intense crave for him. The way he looked down on you fueled the fire in your hips, in your back. You felt an ache in your hips, slamming your head back, fighting the urge to claw the bedsheets.

But then you sae his grimace, and you frowned. “Oh my god, you’re knee, you’re in pain.”

He kept moving, but he was definitely in pain. “I-I think the meds wore off—”

Without thinking, you pushed him off you, making him roll over so now he was the one on th bottom. You straddled him, looking at his shocked expression, how his breaths quickened, how his cock twitched for you. To be inside you.

You had an unimaginable amount of knowledge from all your smutty books, so you might as well try to use what you know, right?

“y/n, what are you—”

“Let me please you,” you breathed, and with a slow, calculative movement, you sat on his dick, sliding his length into you, once again gaining the extreme pleasure of his expression and the absolute desperation he expressed. He gasped as you moved up and down on his cock, and he watched you, watched him dissapear into you. He slammed his head back into the pillow, his face contorting, moans fluttering through his lips, his eyebrows knitting together in pleasure and a million other things.

“God, fuck,” his hands gripped your hips as you rode him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his breaths shallow. He gasped for air. “You feel so good, oh my god. So fucking good.”

You tossed your head back, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of it. He blinked up at you, a smile on his lips, completely in bliss.

He moved his hands with you, nearly lifting you up as you moved on his cock, moved on his body. You forgot how strong he was.

“You sure you’ve never done this?” he gasped, his eyes shut tight. “Because fuck, this is better than I ever imagined.”

You smiled down on him, giddy at his words. You moved even faster, causing him to moan, and moan, and moan.

You didn't even know what to say—you just enjoyed his little commentary as he took you in, his gaze dripping like honey.

“Godamn,” he hissed, eyes meeting yours. He looked frantic. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he seethed, hips slamming up into yours. “Fuck, you’re so hot, so so hot.”

You felt him twitch inside you, felt your walls collapse. You began to see spots in your vision as he moved his hips, too, just as you were. You felt so much pride as he looked absolutely pathetic underneath you, his gaze hazy, his lips bright red from your kisses.

“I love you, I…love you,” he hissed out. “I love you.”

You reached your climax just from looking at him, crying out in a moan, leaning forward over his body. His hands flooded all over you, sending sparks at every touch, every spot of your body. And when you came, when you felt the rush of cum, the rush of the high finally hit, you continued to move as he did. Then, suddenly, his eyes grew so wide, he lifted you off his cock hastily, gasping for air.

You leaned back on his legs, onto your heels, trying to breathe, trying to see, as his hands grasped his own dick, moving up and down before he came, his cum shooting onto you, over your chest, your boobs, your stomach. You watched him gasp as it happened, his lips curling up in an embarrassed smile.

“Oh, oops,” he laughed, looking absolutely delectable with the hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes wide with pleasure. “Totally meant to do that….”

Something burned under your skin, something foreign, something you never felt before. You’ve only read about this feeling, this moment. But now, here you were. You just had sex, sex with your best friend, and it was the best thing you’ve ever felt before. You needed more, so so much more.

“Please tell me we can do that again,” you breathed, falling onto him, sticking to him, feeling the beat of his heart as you pressed your ear to his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes,” his hand wrapped around you, holding you to him. He pressed a gentle, exasperated his to the top of your head. “You don't even have to ask that, i’m planning on doing that all night.”

You moved a bit so you could lay against his side, totally forgetting about the cum on you that now got all over the place. “You seemed like you knew what you were doing for a virgin,” you side eyed him. “You have to be lying.”

He smirked, a light blush on his cheeks. “Uh, well,” he swallowed, eyes looking all over your face. “I mean, I have been thinking about what I would do if I ever got to sleep with you.”

You furrowed your brows. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Well I didn't get to do exactly what I wanted,” he looked down at your lips, at your body pressed to his. “Because of my damn knee, but,” he pressed a kiss to your nose. “That means we have to do this again.”

“Oh, baby,” you pinched his cheek. “We’ll be doing this way more than we probably should.”

He smiled, that blush still on his face, across his nose. He looked so beautiful, so so pretty, it actually hurt you to look at him.

You kissed him, kissed his lips, his nose, his flushed cheeks.

And you looked at him, at his eyes, the same eyes you’ve known forever.

“I love you, Jongho.”

—

The next morning, you parted ways with a sleepy jongho, late for your early class. You couldn't stop thinking about him all day, that is, until you ran into Mingi and San in the library cafe.

Mingi grinned like the cheshire cat, an eye smile brighter than the sun. “Well, hello there, you.”

You rolled your eyes as the line for the coffee moved. San and Mingi stood behind you, giggling like little kids.

“So, Jongho didn't come back last night,” San started, and you quickly cut in.

“So? He always stays in my room, its not anything odd—”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mingi crossed his arms, grinning. “But it is odd.”

“Why?” you crossed your arms, too, facing him. San stood by with a little chuckle.

“Because he came back to the room before his class and his jersey was on inside out—”

“So? He likes to sleep shirtless—”

“His lips were covered in red lipstick—”

“I don't know what you were talking about—”

“Oh, and he told me that he had sex with you—”

You slammed a hand against San’s mouth, giving him a death glare while mingi giggled like a school girl. You grimaced, pulling your hand away. “Shut up, or i’ll make you.”

“Ooh, so scary,” San waved his hands in the air dramatically. “Anyway, are you dating him now? You better date him, he’s been dreaming of that for so long.”

You blinked. “I mean, we said we loved each other, but nothing about dating….”

Mingi smirked. “Welp, guess you better go figure that out.”

After class, you found yourself in front of Jongho’s door, a shake in your breath as you knocked. He opened the door, shirtless, a smile on his face the minute he met your gaze.

And then he grabbed you by the waist and planted a big kiss onto your lips, smiling into it, and then pulled away.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hi.” he tilted his head, looking you up and down.

“I heard you told San everything.”

He bit his lip. “Was I supposed to keep it to myself?”

You shook your head, smiling.

“Do you want to come in?” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mhm,” you nodded, following him in.

The minute the door shut, Jongho slammed you up against it, swallowing you whole with his mouth as he kissed you. His hands gripped the side of your head, tugging at your hair, causing you to let out a hiss. He took the opportunity of your open mouth to shove his tongue into you, exploring your mouth with pleasure. He moaned into you, and you couldn't help but moan yourself.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up, slamming your back into the door as he held you to him. He then started to walk towards his bed, but you realized his injury.

“Jongho, you’re leg,” you breathed with worry, trying to get him to put you down. “You’ll hurt yourself—”

“Shut up,” he spoke into your mouth, indeed shutting you up immediately. You sighed as he kissed you, as he touched you. He gently set you down onto his bed, and you went under his duvet since he kept his room like an icebox.

He followed you suit, crawling on top of you under the covers, but you had a better idea. Once again, you flipped him so he was on his back, and with one quick look at the shock in his gaze, you kissed his collarbone, then his chest, down his sternum, over the soft muscle of his stomach. You slowly pulled his pants down over his cock, his underwear along with them.

You felt his muscles tighten underneath your lips, you heard his breath hitch as you moved lower and lower, until your lips met the soft skin of his hard cock. He gasped his hands searching for you under the covers, his legs moving in pleasure as you licked his tip.

“Oh my…oh…” he arched his back against your kiss, your hands holding onto his hips as you surrounded your mouth around his erection. He thrashed against you, absolutely liquid in your embrace.

But before you could take him fully, the door of his room opened, and in came san blabbing about god knows what.

You quickly moved, trying to lay flat the best you could to hide. Jongho sat up fast, pulling the blanket up and bunching it around his dick, making sure it wasn't so obvious that you were under there….and that he was literally throbbing hard.

“I ran into y/n earlier, she admitted to it!” san roared, and you assumed he was taking his shoes off considering the sound. “Good for you buddy, I know how long you wanted to tap that—”

“Ah, yeah,” Jongho awkwardly laughed. You wish you could see the look on his face, the embarrassment. Just how long did he want you?

You couldn't help but stroke your hand against his dick, causing him to gasp.

“You alright?” San questioned, now making his way to the other side of the room.

You continued to rub him. Jongho gripped the blanket tight.

“Peachy,” Jongho grunted.

San didn't speak for a while.

“Are you gonna finally ask her out?”

You paused.

Jongho sighed. “Huh?” he was totally out of it.

“I mean, you’ve been in love with y/n for ages, you might as well make if official while you can.”

“Am I?” Jongho swallowed hard. “Am I in love with her?”

“Ah shut up, you know it,” San scoffed,and a bed creaked—assumingly his. You decided to continue to suck Jongho off, taking him in your mouth, causing him to jolt.

“I uh, i’ll ask her out later,” Jongho took in a breath. “But, um, do you think you could….you know, give me a moment?”

“A moment, why—”San paused, then gasped. “Are you beating your meat right now? Oh fuck man, my bad!”

You nearly cackled against Jongho at the way they conversed with each other, how normal it seemed. It made you wonder how often this happened, how often Jongho did this to himself, how many times he thought about you while doing it…

That turned you on even more.

The minute you heard the door shut, you tossed the covers over your head, meeting Jongho’s shocked, mind-boggled expression.

“Jeez, y/n, fuck,” he couldn't help but smile as he looked at you, as you sucked him. “You’re a freak.”

“Well, you should see the things I read,” you chuckled, and then licked up the column of his cock, causing him to take hold of your head.

He shoved you up and down on his dick, his fingers tearing into your scalp, causing you to choke on him. He groaned, moaned, hummed every note possible, and then without warning, he came into your mouth, his body going still, his eyes open wide as he watched you swallow his load.

Oh, he tasted better than you ever imagined.

His saltiness still coated your lips as you leaned over to kiss him, his eyes lost in you. He looked so in love, so in lust, in everything.

“Are you gonna ask me out?” you asked in between kisses.

“Mhm,” he leaned into your kiss, not wanting to break apart.

“Are we dating now?”

Kiss.

He blinked, looking up at you. His smile defined beauty, his lips desire.

“If you’d like.”

“Of course.”

You kissed him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck, rolling around in bed with him. He chuckled, smiled, nuzzled his head into you.

“I have practice,” you kissed his cheek, trying to get up, but his arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. “I have to go.”

“One more minute,” he mumbled into your ear as he nibbled it, then kissed it. “Just a minute.”

You smiled. “Okay, fine, I guess I can spare a minute.”

He held you, breathed in your scent, his scent on your lips. He didn't let go, even after the minute, and you hand to force yourself out of his hold.

“Meet me in my room tonight?” you raised a brow,

He nodded. “Of fucking course.”

You quickly tried to fix your hair up, tucking it behind your ears, before you gave your boyfriend a wink while you walked out.

And, funny enough, when you shut the door behind you and turned around, San stood there, smirking devilishly.

“Well damn, when’s it my turn?”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #jongho #jongho smut #ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho x reader #best friends #best friends to lovers #colle #college au

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milarqui · 1 year

Text

Scarlet Lady: Origins (Part 1)

Directory

That blasted girl! she thought. She had been the queen of this class of pathetic, poor peasants for years, and Dupain-Cheng, who was the worst of the lot, had somehow got a spine to replace the baguette she once had!

Baguette, ha! I kill myself.

Maybe that new girl, Cesar or whatever, had something to do with it, but she needed to make sure Dupain-Cheng got the message that no one got away with messing with Chloé Bourgeois, the Princess of Paris!

“I’ve got to get back at that upstart Marinette and Alya for talking back to me,” she muttered, and she looked towards the girl, who was distracted doing whatever homework she had missed, the clumsy idiot. And she also saw her bag - seriously, what a horrible thing, not even a Dior! - unattended to a side.

Struck by a brilliant idea, she carefully walked towards the bag and put her hand inside. Maybe she could find something she could use to put her down, back into her place. Her fingertips touched something wooden and polished, and when she grabbed it and pulled out, she saw that it was an eight-sided box that looked really old and expensive.

Hahahaha! This is probably an old family heirloom! she thought, crowing to herself with an evil smile. She’ll be totally freaked when she can’t find it! Perfect!

As she left back for her seat, Marinette remained completely oblivious to what just happened.

And would remain so for months.

----

Perhaps, if she had known what that act of thievery would bring her, Chloé Bourgeois might not have carried it out.

Perhaps.

But Chloé Bourgeois was never one to think on the long-term consequences of her actions.

----

Back home from that peasants’ building known as Collège Françoise Dupont, Chloé sat on her bed and picked the box she had purloined - not robbed, robbing is something those who are pathetic do! - and admired its colors.

“A pity that this was wasted in that family of boulangers,” she said. “Let��s see what kind of treasure I won. Hee hee!”

And she opened the box.

----

Within the box, the kwami known as Tikki had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. Master Fu had shown her how her future holder, Marinette, looked and acted like, and she knew it would be a wonderful partnership. With Nooroo and the Butterfly Miraculous in the hands of someone who would use it for evil, someone needed to act - and who better than the girl that showed strength of character and compassion in every act?

The box opened. This was her moment!

“Hello, Marinette!” she said, smiling. “Please, don’t be afraid, everything’s--!”

The light that usually covered this kind of thing vanished... and she saw that the person in front of her was clearly not Marinette. Blonde, long hair in a ponytail, rather than black and held in pigtails. Blue, cruel eyes instead of innocent blue. Features of Caucasian ascendancy instead of Chinese.

Conclusion: Master Fu had made a mistake.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Tikki screamed, trying to make a sense of what had happened.

“THAT’S MY LINE!!!” the girl screamed even louder.

----

Elsewhere in Paris, a boy by the name of Adrien Agreste had discovered a similar box, containing a ring and the kwami known as Plagg. After the terrible day he had had, with his attempt to finally go to school thwarted by Nathalie and his bodyguard, he had listened to the cat-like creature and jumped into the chance to become something he had always wanted to be.

A Superhero.

“THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!!”

----

He would regret those words soon enough.

----

Chloé couldn’t make heads or tails of what this little bug was telling her.

Going out there to fight some monster that had suddenly shown up?

"You’re the only one who can stop the Akuma!” the bug said.

As in, doing something sweaty?

“You use Lucky Charm to save the day?”

Helping other people? Her mere presence was enough to do that! She didn’t need to do like Majestia and waste her precious time in making people think they had any value beyond doing what she wanted.

“You have a partner?!”

And not even a way to claim the credit! No, she had to share it with some no-name peasant, and she couldn’t tell anyone she was the one that had saved their lives! No, she had to hide herself for whatever dumb, irrelevant reason the bug had mentioned, something about someone wanting to rob the earrings she had purloined from Dupain-Cheng.

But the bug was persistent. It kept pestering her until she agreed to it.

Well, maybe she could actually do something and bask in the love of the masses.

----

At the Dupain-Cheng’s house, Marinette thought she had earned a prize for finally telling Chloé off for being a jerk, so she had made herself some popcorn and gone to watch TV, where the usual programming had been replaced by a live newscast.

Un Super-Vilain Á Paris?

A giant creature, who for some reason the newscast had identified as Stoneheart, had shown up in the middle of the city, and was causing quite a lot of chaos.

“Stoneheart is moving toward the Montparnasse Tower!” Nadja Chamack reported, clearly shaken by the current events, as the titan punched a car and sent it flying several meters away.

“Sucks,” Marinette said, munching on her popcorn. Not like there was much she could do. If she were part of something like United Heroez, she would probably jump into action, but she was a civilian, so--

“The monster... seems to be unstoppable!”

And, as Stoneheart kept ambling towards its target, at the down left corner of the screen, Marinette saw something.

Or, rather, someone.

“ALYA!!! What are you doing?!”

----

How does Lois Lane always look so perfect when she does this?! Alya Césaire thought, panting as she pedaled behind Stoneheart. This could be the start of her journalist career!

----

“I’m starting to get the hang of this,” Adrien - no, Chat Noir, that was his superhero name - said, following the trail Stoneheart was leaving behind.

“aaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHH!”

Pain.

Before he could react, someone had crashed on him, and now the two of them were tangled in some sort of thin rope and hanging upside down. And, as he recovered his sight, he was met with someone wearing a domino mask, similar to his, but red with black polka dots.

This had to be the partner Plagg had mentioned! Well, maybe he could break the ice and begin with a good joke.

“Well, nice of you to drop in!”

“Omigod, no.”

Seriously? Not even a smile?

Tough crowd.

The girl in red pulled on something, and the rope around them suddenly became untangled, causing them both to fall to the ground.

“Say, what’s your name, partner?”

“Why should I tell you?” she replied, with a tone that reminded him too much of his father talking down to someone else - usually him.

“I’m Chat Noir! Nice to meet you!” A loud noise reminded him that Stoneheart was still loose, and he swung back in action. “Come on! Stoneheart seems to be going for the Parc des Princes!”

“Stone-who?” he thinks he hears her say, but it might have just been his imagination. He didn’t pay it any mind.

It was time to be a hero!

----

Sabine Dupain-Cheng looked in shock as her darling daughter nearly crashed down the stairs and towards the door, a look of dread in her face.

“Marinette, where are you going? Lunch is almost over.”

“Out because my new best friend is INSANE!!!”

The bell clinked as Marinette opened the door, picked her bike and started to pedal westward.

“What’s going on here?” she wondered. Well, she would certainly learn about it later.

----

Chat Noir charged towards Stoneheart, his new staff - he could make it grow like Goku did, which was amazing - in hand, and attacked the creature, distracting it from the guy it was trying to attack.

BANG! the staff sounded as it hit Stoneheart’s head.

And then Stoneheart grew in size.

“Oh shit, he’s bigger!” he said, dodging an attack. “Where are you, partner?”

Looking around, he saw his partner standing at the top of the stadium.

“Ah, there!” Good, she could jump in and help him stop Stone- wait, was that a compact mirror?

She was preening in front of a mirror while he was here, risking his life?

“HEY!!!” he shouted, dodging another attack.

----

It looked like that mangy cat had everything well in hand, so she didn’t need to do anything at all! Whew! She could just stand here and let him do all the work, that was what peasants were for, after all.

“What are you waiting for, Super Red Bug?” a voice said from below, and Chloé Bourgeois turned to see the new girl down below, a cellphone in her hands.

“Ugh, you again.”

“The world is watching you!” Césaire said, gleaming and smiling.

“The world is watching...?”

Oh my god, this was perfect! She could jump in, easily put a stop to the monster and bang! Instantly famous! The adoration of all Paris was at hand!

She closed her new compact mirror and grinned.

----

Chat Noir was starting to feel that maaaaaaybe he was a bit over his head. Nothing he could do to Stoneheart could stop him, and it was a hard task to just keep dodging everything. And, of course, his partner refused to do anything.

Stoneheart had grabbed one of the goals with its gigantic left hand, and was clumsily attempting to swing it at him, but fortunately his years of fencing had given him the reflexes to avoid such a large object, and the suit was actually making him faster and stronger!

But then Stoneheart tossed the goal - and it was clear the target was not him, but a red-haired, dark-skinned girl that seemed to have followed them into the stadium.

Oh, no!! he thought, and he turned about to attempt to stop the large object from hitting the girl.

“ALYA!”

Before he could act, someone else, a girl with black bluish hair in a pair of cute pigtails, tackled the red-haired girl out of the way.

“You came!” the red-haired girl - Alya - said.

“Yeah, but why did you?!” the new girl replied.

Whew, crisis solved. Now, he had to find out how to stop Stoneheart, quickly, before it could cause further disruption.

“Cat boy!” the pigtailed girl said, and he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s Chat Noir, actually!” he replied, turning to look at her - and wow, she was quite cute and blushing.

“He doesn’t open his fist!”

“Good note, thanks! Maybe you should be a hero!”

Anyone could be better than his "partner". Not that that was a high bar to surpass.

“Priorities!” the girl said.

----

Chloé could only see red. That blasted cat had said that Dupain-Cheng should be a hero? Ha! As if!

She jumped and kicked Stone-whatever in the head, sending it tumbling away as she turned to the cat and her classmate.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” she shouted.

“Wow, wow, calm down! Maybe we need to use our powers to stop him? Cataclysm! My power destroys anything,” the cat said, his right hand covered in some sort of icky black thing.

“How barbaric. And useless. Like you.”

“Did I look cool?”

The cat thought he was cool? She wanted to laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

The cat grabbed the large net thing that had fallen nearby with his right hand, and suddenly the white on the stick became black, and in seconds the entire thing had disintegrated into dust.

She was sickened to have to admit it, but that trick left her hair standing.

“Jesus...”

“So, what about yours?” the cat challenged her.

You’re going to swallow those words, you mangy cat!

“Lucky Charm!” she declaimed. After a flash of pink, she felt something heavy in her hands, that seemed to be made of rubber and looked a lot like this unfashionable costume she was wearing. “Oh, ha ha, Tikki.”

“So, how useful is your power?” he taunted her, and she angrily threw the thing at him.

“Why not ask your other partner?!”

“You just don’t want to work,” he muttered. Well, of course she didn’t! Work was something someone as important as her shouldn’t be bothered with!

You’ll come crawling back to me once you see how useless Clumsinette is, she thought, grinning at the idea of her rival doing anything useful at all.

“Cat boy, run interference!”

“it’s Chat Noir!”

“Alya, the tap!”

“You got it!”

What.

----

Chat Noir followed the black-haired girl’s instructions. The moment he had given her the polka-dotted red wetsuit, she had immediately come up with a plan. It was a bit risky, particularly since he would have to let himself get captured, but something told him he could trust her.

His trust was rewarded. The girl had managed to trick Stoneheart into grabbing her and the wetsuit, dropping a purple rock from its closed right fist, and then Alya had opened the hose tap, filling the wetsuit to grow and forcing Stoneheart’s fist open. The girl had quickly jumped out, ran for the rock and stomped on it, letting out a black butterfly and a crumpled piece of paper.

And Stoneheart transformed back into a large boy that looked to be his age.

The girl picked up the note and ran for the large boy, shouting what he presumed was his name, as his ring began to beep.

“What’s the noise mean?”

“Dunno, I didn’t read the manual,” he said. Maybe he should have waited for Plagg to explain everything before transforming?

----

“Kim wrote it. He’s always making fun of me,” Ivan confessed to his classmate.

“Pa, don't worry about him. He cried when we saw The Little Mermaid when we were 10.”

He chuckled.

----

Chloé grabbed the rubber thing - now empty of water - and attempted to rip it, but it only stretched without giving in.

No one’s paying attention to me!

How could this be? She was Chloé Bourgeois! The Princess of Paris! Everyone’s eyes should be on her! All the boys should be in love with her! Everyone should worship her! But here they were, paying attention to a mangy cat and Bruel who got his dumb arse turned into a monster, instead of her!

Oh, wait. Tikki had said something about this, right? That she could fix stuff broken by the monsters with this Lucky Charm thing?

“Hey, reporter girl! Catch this! MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The Lucky Charm transformed into a cloud of ladybugs that flew around everything Bruel had destroyed as Stone-whatever. In moments everything was back to its normal state - still below the quality she demanded of everything, of course.

“Whoa!!” Césaire said, and she rushed towards her, cellphone in hand. “Incredible! You can fix everything?! Hey, what do we call you, Wonderbug?!”

Now, that was closer to what she expected. Still not enough simpering, but closer.

“Well, obviously not that. Let’s see...”

----

Chat Noir was tired. Fighting Stoneheart had taken out a lot off him. And he realized that maybe the beeping was some kind of count down.

And then he heard his ‘partner’ proclaim to have saved the day ‘in spite of her clumsy partner’s inability to do anything right’.

“You... you didn’t do anything,” he muttered, astonished of her credit stealing. But then the beeping became more insistent and he left: he had to return home before someone noticed he wasn’t in his room.

Somehow, the beginning of being a hero had become nothing like he had thought it would be.

----

Fu sipped on his favorite tea, relaxing after a long day. Wayzz had reported that the negative energy of the Butterfly had vanished, which meant that young Marinette and young Adrien had managed to stop Stoneheart and captured the corrupted butterfly transforming him. Good. Ah, if only he were a few decades younger! He would have been able to go out there and guide the two young heroes in the matters of the Miraculous.

Wayzz clicked on the remote to turn on the TV and see if the news were mentioning anything about the attack.

“... our new hero, Scarlet Lady...”

He turned to look at the screen, only to notice something strange, because the girl wearing the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t resemble his Chosen wielder at all-

“... thanks to amateur footage by local student, Alya Césaire...”

-and then the screen showed Marinette and a red-haired girl he supposed was this Alya Césaire, smiling at the camera.

“Wait...” Wayzz said. The problem was clear: if Marinette was there in her civilian clothes, who was wearing the Ladybug Miraculous?

He barely noticed as his teacup crashed into the floor.

----

“So... her name is Scarlet Lady...”

Plagg was a bit disturbed by his bearer’s angry face. What in the holy name of Camembert had happened to leave him like he had gone a few rounds with trying to swallow some mushrooms?

“I’ll call her Scar for the scars she leaves on my life.”

Uh-oh.

----

Tikki enjoyed the cookies Chloé had offered her.

But she still wondered why she was here, instead of with Marinette.

And she remembered there was something she hadn’t explained.

“Did you catch the akuma?”

Chloé gave her what she supposed was what humans called the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look.

“Huh?”

Uh-oh.

----

Origins (Part 2)

@zoe-oneesama Hope you liked this.

#scarlet lady #fanfiction #milarqui #origins #long post #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #scarlet lady the novel

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stirringwinds · 7 months

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While I feel that hws France is hard to portray I do wonder what headcanons you have for him. Care to tell a few that come to mind?

a lot of my headcanons of francis/françois are from the british imperial + sea/east asian perspective, so with that in mind, these are some thoughts i've had:

a. françois' strengths are that he can be very charming and good at putting people at ease. he is somebody, if you ran into him somewhere, just comes off as a really interesting person. he can talk for ages about his passion for philosophy, art, literature, science and cooking without it getting boring to the listener.

b. he can be a really good lover too and is that sort of person who considers it a point of pride to make his partners enjoy his company. the sort of person who will make dinner and probably also a good breakfast for you. but one of his flaws is that he can also be pretty self-centred at times, and sometimes he uses his charisma to get out of things or simply dodge issues in his personal relationships.

c. françois, much like arthur, is in the Bad Parent club vis a vis matthew in the 17—18th centuries. where they differ however, is i feel that arthur was controlling but more...present, whereas françois was more...dismissive. matthew would get letters from arthur instructing him to do this and that, which for matthew at least acknowledged him, whereas françois might just not even write to him much at all, especially after matthew came under arthur's control.

d. françois really clicked with alfred during the revolutionary war. it helped that alfred was punching arthur in the dick, but i think that françois for all his flaws, genuinely possesses a somewhat more idealistic streak (than say, arthur imo) so that gelled well with alfred spouting all kinds of enlightenment thoughts (especially since he was also reading french writers like Montesquieu).

e. françois and lien (vietnam) have a complicated (to say the least) relationship due to the history of french imperialism over vietnam; i see francis being much younger than her (she and yao are peers in age!), so lien fitted him very much into her prior experience as an older female nation being forced to deal with 'boys playing at being empires'. lien probably shot him in the face at least once during the first indochina war, that tried to re-establish colonial rule over vietnam in the 1950s. however, i do think they can talk more cordially in more recent decades, with normalisation of ties. cooking is perhaps one topic that is a common interest—vietnamese banh mi is a kind of sandwich originating from french baguettes that incorporates local ingredients, and it's a really tasty and popular streetfood. there's also a big french-vietnamese population in paris today.

f. kiku was absolutely not impressed by monet's la japonaise, nor 'madame chrysanthème', the wildly racist and orientalist mess that Madame Butterfly was based on. it was exoticising, not flattering to him—he was however, more amenable to those of françois' artists that incorporated japanese artistic techniques in more genuine ways, or with françois' own view of aesthetics and his knowledge and interest in engineering.

g. yao, much like kiku later, was someone françois was very interested in culturally—as seen from the boom in chinoiserie when trade with china began back in the 17th century. i think french is probably one of the first european languages yao learns (besides portuguese). it's a fairly functional trading relationship—until of course, french imperialist interests began expanding in yao's sphere of influence and the opium wars.

h. i'm a fruk fan so naturally i think his love-hate relationship with arthur is one of his most significant r/ships—arthur has been a neighbour, friend, enemy, lover and everything in between. but! scotfra is another very, very long-term relationship important to him (auld alliance!). also on an EU level well, there's him and ludwig too.

i. naturally, he's also fairly fashionable, and i feel like he'll always eye himself critically even if he's going out casually, compared to way i can see arthur being fairly chill about strolling out in that questionable, ill-fitting acid green christmas sweater alfred sent him as a joke once. i also think françois probably smokes a fair bit, compared to how arthur's gotten a kick in the arse to cut back after WWII. and nowadays, he'll often just be relaxing with a cigarette on the balcony of his apartment with a book, or enjoying a day out in one of his museums.

#hws france #hetalia #hws england #hws canada #hws vietnam #hws china #hws japan #hws scotland #hetalia headcanons

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moumouton4 · 11 months

Text

What A Lovely Coincidence || Sasuke Uchiha x reader

A/n : Totally forgot about this wip I finished a while ago. I retook it and I think it's perfect lmao. I hope y'all will like it 🎁 I've gt the idea while walking in the street on my way to the bakery to buy a baguette 🥖 if you wanna know 😂

Warnings : Fluff, heavy make out session

Summary : As you return from your mission, you realize that someone is following you. Little do you know that your boyfriend had missed you quite a lot. But it's Sasuke y'all don't expect much from him… unless… 👀

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Words count : 1485

You leapt from branch to branch across the forest at breakneck speed, splitting the distance to Konohagakure with each passing second. You'd just finished a mission that had lasted about a week, and you were slowly making your way back home.

You were looking forward to seeing everyone again, as well as your boyfriend Sasuke, who had left a few days before your departure and should have returned about 2 days ago.

As you moved forward, however, you felt chakra about 10 meters from you, but your speed made it impossible to determine its source. You felt the source getting closer, so you decided to accelerate so you could hide in case someone tried to ambush you.

Once you're safely tucked away in your hiding place, you wait patiently, imagining that the source would go away, but despite your precautions you felt it getting closer. So you draw the kunai from your boot and held it tight in your hand in anticipation of what's about to happen.

The chakra you felt was familiar, but no matter how much you racked your brains, you couldn't answer why this person you knew outwardly wouldn't have come straight to you and been playing hide-and-seek in the trees.

You had to admit that this person wasn't making any noise, but you could still hear them behind you. In a split second you stood up, kunai still in your hand. Out of habit, you brandished it at the other person's throat, grabbing their arm. The other person, however, had managed to dodge your blow and grab the arm of the hand that held in a split second.

It's when you refocused on the situation that you realized your mistake. At the time, you felt foolish not to have recognized your boyfriend's chakra. You wasted no time in putting the kunai back into the holster on your boot before taking him in an embrace.

It's only a matter of a quarter of a second before he's back in the habit of wrapping his arms around you, patting you gently on the back. When you pulled away, you saw his gaze sweep over your body, searching for any wound.

"Hi, handsome, do you often hang around here ?" you said playfully.

Pink started to creep up his cheeks as he turned his head to the side. You had a gift for breaking his facade, that was undeniable. Nevertheless, he managed to respond to your greeting.

His gaze was so intense you could tell he was dying to tell you all sorts of things. So you try to make conversation as you started walking towards Konohagakure, this time on the hard floor.

"I'm surprised to see you here. Wasn't your mission over a while ago ? How long have you been back in Konohagakure ?"

"I'm not back yet" he replied in a calm tone, looking straight ahead.

"What do you mean ? Did your mission last longer than expected ? Nothing too bad I hope" you turned to him, inspecting him briefly as he had done to you, but with his cloak on him was difficult to see anything.

"No, don't worry, everything went fine" he replied, as calm as ever.

But your curiosity was still piqued "But then what are you doing here ? Don't get me wrong it pleases me a lot that you're the first person I see on my return but I don't understand"

He tried to remain calm and composed but couldn't stop the 2nd wave of red rising in his cheeks. He tried to speak. To tell you that yes, he'd come home more slowly than planned, so that you'd pass each other on the way home. So he could spend time with you. Without Naruto and Neji, your respective best friends.

And without having to "make a fool" of himself inviting you to a date, as he thinks he does. He's lucky it's you, because he's right, it borders on the ridiculous. For example, the last time he came out of a training session and asked you "Do you want to experience something different ?" yes, that was his way of asking you to go on a date with him. Good thing you have the built-in Sasuke-translator.

You snapped him out of his thoughts by taking his hand. His head snapped immediately towards you and from there you could observe his rose-tinted cheeks.

"You know you can tell me if the mission went poorly" you said, your gaze softening.

Damn it, he wanted everything except for you to start worrying about him. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Everything went fine, don't worry. I... I just wanted to get in more slowly to... coincide with our arrivals...." he said his gaze fixing on a tree behind you.

On your side your brain was firing like a Turing machine ( a computer ), we could almost see the cog of the load in your eyes. And then suddenly they sparkled as a smirk appeared on your lips "Ooooh I see then" you said before standing on tiptoe to catch his gaze "And are you satisfied that we've coincided ?"

"The weather's been pretty good so-" you didn't give him time to finish his evasive answer and grabbed his shoulders before lowering him to your level and kissing him. His arms froze at his sides and his eyes widened. But as you pulled back, his hands shot to your waist and he pulled you firmly against him. His lips pressed fiercely against yours, causing you to pull your head back slightly. This way he could express all the longing and love he had for you without making a fool of himself with his evasive, enigmatic wording.

As you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, you felt his hands on your hips tighten. He delicately opened his mouth and swiped his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you immediately gave in to. You spent a moment like this, your tongues caressing each other in a gentle battle of dominance.

Finally when you parted his eyes were wide at his own actions. A few moments before, he'd never have thought of doing that - not that it was an unfamiliar thing for you both, but for someone as far-sighted as he was, he'd never seen it coming. You always found a way to keep him on his toes after all.

As he held your body tightly against his, you asked again, "And now, are you happy to have coincided with me ?"

"Yes very much so" he said now completely flushed, his face nestled against your neck.

"Then it's perfect !" you said cheerfully. Then he pulled away, immediately looking the other way as his hand took yours in a firm grip that evoked both his love for you and his devotion.

As you made your way back to the village, you spoke again "If you like, later we could coincide at Ichiraku's and then go to my place to watch a movie"

You felt his hand squeeze yours tighter, a little chuckle passing from his lips at the way you'd just proposed a date. He had the impression of hearing himself... except he could never have finished the sentence that way "That would be very pleasant" he replied, trying to suppress the hint of entousiam and excitement in his voice.

As Konohagakure entered your line of sight, you couldn't help the flutter in your heart at the thought of your evening tonight. The quiet meal that awaited you, where you could talk about your respective missions. The undoubtedly short walk in the night that Sasuke would ask for as per usual. And how he'd make room for you under his cloak, pulling you in by the shoulder and pushing you flush against him to discuss more personal matters, knowing he was protected by the veil of night. And then finally the warmth of his body behind yours as you watched the movie. His hand holding yours while his arm is wrapped protectively around your waist, and his legs are entangled with yours.

It's one of those intimate moments when he feels safe and allows himself to be vulnerable. Where he'd allow himself to place little kisses on your neck while his cold feet sought warmth against yours.

Sasuke, too, was extremely eager to get back into a more intimate setting with you so he could catch up and just show you the love he has for you in complete freedom. You heard him take a slight breath before whispering "I can't wait"

You smiled from ear to ear as you turned your head towards his "Me too, Sasuke. Me too" you said, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. A small smile appeared on his face as your eyes met again. This evening was sure to be eagerly awaited and thoroughly enjoyed.

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍣🍜 Again my requests are open 🍯🍮

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #sasuke uchiha imagine #sasuke uchiha #sasuke uchiha fluff #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader fluff #sasuke x reader #fluff #miri-writes

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

Note

I imagine that citrine H is absolutely obsessed with honey like he puts that shit in and on everything. In tea, on toast, on his berries, even putting yns finger in the jar just so he can lick it off her

tiny cw: theres a tiny bit of anal at the end ! do not read if youre not super into it :)

wordcount: 8.5k+

—————

Harry loves honey.

Honestly, next to (Y/N), it was his favorite thing to eat. He wanted to put it on everything he could, and there wasn't much he couldn't somehow meander his way into adding it into. He'd always had a sweet tooth growing up, but as soon as he stole away to his cottage and began taking care of himself in every way, including harvesting his own honey through some of the very generous bees who had hives around his meadow, he couldn't help but take it up a level.

It was one of his favorite things to share with (Y/N), as well. While she didn't have quite the same affinity for sweets that he did, she never failed to indulge him and always tried all of his desserts and little treats. There was nothing like tasting honey in her kiss; the nectar would linger over her lips and sweeten every pass of her tongue over his. He wasn't sure if she ever picked up on it, but whenever he made her something with honey added, he had to sneak kisses in while she ate or indulge some as soon as she finished. Even when he added it to their cups of tea, just a hint of the thick substance remaining in the warm liquid was enough to have him all but abandoning the drink in favor of getting every note from her lips and luxuriating in the honey of her kiss.

But, just because he loved it, didn't mean he was very careful with it.

This morning, (Y/N) had woken with him to the sun's rays, their late night together having only ended a handful of hours before. That meant she woke up early and a bit grumpy with an empty stomach, which was something Harry just wouldn't allow to persist. One of his favorite breakfasts to make for her, especially under warm weather, was a crusty slice of a toasted baguette topped with his homemade raspberry preserves, a spread of brie cheese, and a dripping of golden honey all over. The honey and raspberries were his favorite part; sinking into the textured holes of the bread allowed for the brie to hit his tongue first, buttery and thick before the tart raspberries and the bright honey cut through it like sunshine pouring through open windows. It helped that (Y/N) loved it just as much from the way she requested it when she knew he had everything on hand to prepare the meal.

Harry couldn't lie and say he wasn't distracted as he brought together (Y/N)'s breakfast this morning. He could feel her eyes on his back as he worked, only a pair of boxers snug against his hips with the rest of his sun-bathed skin on display for his lover. But, knowing that if he looked over his shoulder, he'd find the rest of his outfit—really just an oversized Woodstock t-shirt he'd bought from the back of someone's van at the festival—adorning his Flame and nothing else, was the real distraction. It had been storming all night, leaving something special in the air that stung Harry's system and had him good and ready for hours on end last night. He was lucky just the memory of it all wasn't getting him hard, so knowing (Y/N) was sitting pretty behind him with her legs folded underneath her was the biggest test to keep his focus.

Though, when his jar of honey was knocked over, spilling some of the nectar over the rim, Harry realized he'd failed the test.

"H, did you spill it again?" (Y/N) giggled from behind him, voice still dredged with sleep though her laughter felt brighter than the sun.

"No," he lied, obvious in the way he elongated the word and stepped in front of her view of the mess.

"Yes, you did," she pressed, another peal of her laughter filling his cottage. That made this whole mess worth it; sticky flannel and hot water burning his fingertips and all.

"Oh, hush," he scolded her though the words lost their grit through his smile, "'M making y'breakfast even after y'woke up all grumpy on me, and this is how y'thank me?"

Harry shook his head at her, feigning disappointment as he grabbed their completed plates. He willed the rest of the cleanup to take care of itself with a jerk of his chin as he opted to spend his breakfast with his sunshine.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she told him, beaming up at him before he settled on the bed with her, folding his legs underneath himself before offering her breakfast, "I just think it's funny, that's all. Without fail, you always know how to make a mess."

Tipping his head to the side as he took his first bite of this morning's meal, Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but I didn't hear y'complaining about the mess I made last night."

Looking up at her through the splay of his lashes, Harry watched as her aura flared up with bright splashes of crimson bleeding into the contented yellow and baby pink that was her resting halo. A short smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, lopsided with a single dimple in his cheek. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was on her mind.

"Eat your breakfast," she shooed him off with the faux-scold. It only took Harry one lingering look to see just how flimsy of a facade the nonchalance was.

With that lopsided smile still pinned to his cheeks, he granted her a reprieve as he dropped his gaze (not before making sure her aura was just as sweet and heated as he was hoping). They were quiet then, leaving Harry to revel in her company, the reach of her energy warmer than the sunlight bleeding through the windows and sweeter than the food on his tongue. Every other moment, his eyes drifted to her, watching as she took bites of the food he made for her, washing away his worry over her hunger.

While he was watching her innocently, of course, maybe he was paying a little too much attention to her mouth. It wasn't inherently sexy, what she was eating—crusty bread was built for comfort, not hard-ons—, but that didn't stop him from taking in every swipe of her tongue over her lips as she cleaned up the raspberries that worked the stain the center of her mouth or the honey that clung to the bread before bowing and breaking to pool on her skin. Maybe, he wasn't quite over the storm that had boiled in his system the night before.

Nonetheless, he kept to himself. (Y/N), at least, needed to eat some before he could go back to laying with his face between her legs.

Other than a few looks over their food—(Y/N) looking away with a shy smile on her face every time she caught his eyes, and Harry trying to bite back the smug curl that took his own mouth—he left her be. Just when Harry felt his mind begin to wander, (Dande would probably be home from wherever she scampered off for the night soon, so he would need to get her some lunch made) (Y/N) huffed out a pout. When he refocused his gaze on her, he found the expected furrow of her brow and the puff of her bottom lip pushed from the set of her mouth.

With a question of what was wrong on the tip of his tongue, Harry stopped when he saw the glimmer of honey dripping down the corner of her mouth. She'd hit one of the potholes in the crust of the bread, surprising her with a long drop of money that extended from the corner of her mouth and down the curve of her chin, leaving a sticky mess over her skin.

"Don't laugh," (Y/N) scolded as soon as she realized he was watching her though the corner of her own mouth threatened to tick upwards.

"'M not, 'm not," Harry protested, telling the truth as he watched the refraction of the golden nectar inch over her dewy skin. There wasn't any reason to laugh as far as he was concerned, not when he was too busy being envious of the slow crawl of the honey over her face.

Looking at her sticky fingers, (Y/N) scrunched her nose in distaste. Flitting her gaze to Harry, she gave him pleading eyes. "Can you help me? My hands are sticky."

Harry raised his honey-sticky and raspberry dotted fingers with his own version of an apology on his features. "Sorry, lovie," he murmured.

A huffed sigh fell from her lips. "It's okay, H."

It was then she made a move to get off the bed, leaving towards the kitchen, that Harry had an idea. A faint ping of panic zipped through him that urged him to get her to stay right where she was on the bed with him. With a careful kick of his leg, he nudged his foot against the back of her calf.

"Wait," he stopped her, "I think I can still help."

"Oh, yeah," she said, settling back gown with an obvious smile on her face, "magic."

Though a lopsided smile curled his lips, Harry didn't bother to correct her as he made a show of flicking his dirty dishes away with a wave of his fingers. With the full of his attention on her, he watched as she eagerly pushed her own unfinished plate to sit on his bedside table, leaving room for her to scoot over the mattress and into Harry's space.

She closed her eyes once her knee knocked against his, surely waiting for whatever spell she had decided he was going to use on her. Instead, Harry simply leaned forwards and pressed his lips to the pool of honey on her skin. His tongue peeked out between his puckered lips, grazing over her chin in an effort to clean away the honey that would refuse to slick over his own lips.

At the sound of (Y/N)'s breath catching, Harry lost the pucker of his lips to a smug smile as he lingered. He couldn't blame her, really. If he had thought he liked honey before, it had to be his favorite food now that he'd tasted it from her skin.

Dotting an innocent kiss to her now cleaned skin, he pulled away with his lips now carrying the mess she'd made. (Y/N) sat with her eyes closed for a bit longer, lashes fluttering as they rimmed her quivering eyelids.

"What," she started, a little too breathy for the morning sunshine, "was that?"

Blinking her gaze open, Harry was granted a look at her aura; the soft colors now edged with a bright red ribbon. But, he could have guessed as much when he looked at the blown set of her pupils.

"I helped you," he answered simply, just short of a shrug with how nonchalant he was trying to be. He was well aware of the way (Y/N) was watching him as he brought his dirtied fingers to his mouth and licked the honey and raspberries from the pads, leaving them with only the essence of the nectar and stain from the fruit. Finally, peeking at her through his lashes, he asked her: "What?"

Shaking her head, (Y/N) seemed to realize she was still watching him. Her aura flickered out once she cut eye contact with him, her gaze shifting down to her own honey-sodden hands. "Nothing," she told him.

Harry couldn't help the way his eyes dropped down to her hands. The pads of her delicate fingers weren't pooling with the honey the way the curve of her chin had been marred with such, but he could see the way the traces gleamed in the sunlight.

"I can clean that up, too," he told her, trying his best to not let his mouth slip into a smug curve again as he nodded his chin towards her hands.

As much as he wanted to see (Y/N) squirm over her answer, pretend like he was only being a pest and wasn't getting under her skin the way he knew he was, he didn't have that kind of patience in him this morning. Instead, he grabbed for her wrist, fingers wrapping around the delicate curve of the bones. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips to the pads of her fingers, repeating the pattern of his tongue sneaking out and lapping up the honey from her skin. He moved across her fingertips, cleaning her up with a kiss pressed to every finger before he moved to the next until he made it through both hands.

The heat of (Y/N)'s gaze followed him as he didn't bother to pull away from her skin, to stop kissing over her hand even with the mess was cleaned.

"Tastes so good this way, you know that?" he told her, the words smeared against her skin as he dared to kiss up to her wrist.

Turning her hand in his hold, (Y/N) presented the soft underside of her arm to him, the downy skin getting all the love Harry could give. "W-What does?"

"Honey," he affirmed, grateful for the stick that lingered over his lips, giving him a glimpse of the taste with every press of his lips against her skin, "It tastes better when it's from you."

"Oh," was all she gave in response, the sound breathless.

"That alright, sunshine? If I keep tasting it from you?" Harry asked, already willing the pot of honey from his kitchen counter to make its way over to his bed.

"I-Its sticky," (Y/N) peeped, the would-be protest having little grit.

"I'll keep y'clean, don't worry," he murmured against her skin, grabbing for the honeypot once it was within range with the help of his magic.

Bypassing the honey dipper leant against the lip of the jar, Harry ran his finger through the substance, letting it pool on the pad of his index before he pulled it from the jar. A long string of the nectar fell from his fingertip, collecting on the surface of the honey still in the pot until he ran a thick line with his finger over the bare skin of her arm. Harry watched with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as a layer of goosebumps erupted on her skin, a glance up through his lashes showing him she was concentrating on the touch of his sticky finger.

Harry pressed a line of kisses through the golden honey first, leaving indents of his lips through the line and spreading it through the kiss print he left over her skin. Once he reached the crook of her elbow, the end of the line, he made a show of pulling away with a lick to his lips as he looked up at his lover.

Her pupils were blown, the inky black swallowing the color of her iris with her swollen lips gripped between the blunt of her teeth. A smug smile worked its way onto his lips as he saw the way she seemed to be enraptured by the look of his glistening lip prints in the glow of the honey. He didn't need to see her aura to know he'd gotten to her, leaving his sunshine speechless.

"See?" he started, already dipping his chin down to run the tip of his tongue through the river he'd painted on her skin, "Not so bad, right? Barely even realize 'm getting you all sticky, I bet."

A nod of (Y/N)'s head was what he earned in response, her eyes wide and watching. The long drag of his tongue through the honey pile, collecting every streak and letting it pool on the flat of his tongue, had (Y/N)'s breathing going stagnant.

With a tongueful of honey in his mouth, Harry pressed his lips up her bicep, the sweetness flooding through the puckering of his lips as he got a second taste of it with her skin. The line of kisses he left picked up where he'd drawn the initial line with his finger, and went all the way up to the cuffed sleeve of her borrowed t-shirt, the fabric frayed and tickling his nose once he was close enough.

It didn't feel at all as dramatic as he was sure it looked when Harry swallowed the mouthful of honey he had, eyes fluttering closed as he swore the extra sweetness was due to the skin he kissed it off. A wide smile spread across his lips as he felt his muscles deflate and relax. All the while, the heat of (Y/N)'s gaze followed him, surely stopping on the sheen of honey that glittered over his lips.

Blinking his eyes open, he was granted with the exact view he'd been hoping for: (Y/N) with eyes wide, lips swollen and gaped open as puffs of breath filtered from between, and a glittering warmth he saw traveling through her aura.

"Wanna try?" he asked her, canting his head to the side with his curls flopping over his forehead.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, her gaze coming back to match his own, the color dark but moon wide.

"Wanna try a taste? I know y'don't love honey as much as I do, but I think this could change your mind," he reasoned, already dipping his finger into the jar once more. A fresh coat of the nectar glistened over his fingertip, distorting the pearlescent pink color that adorned his nails.

As soon as (Y/N) gave him a quiet nod, he brought his fingertip to her lips. He watched as she parted her mouth for him, allowing a peek of her pink tongue to slip though and lave over his digit. A harsh breath came out through Harry's nose as he watched, bottom lip trapped between his teeth at the wet heat of her tongue while his stomach tightened at the sight.

"Good, right?" he pressed, though he didn't bother to lift his finger from her mouth in wait of her answer.

Speaking against his digit, the rest of the honey highlighting the full of her lips and collecting in the ridges of the skin, she told him, "Yeah, really good."

"Want more?" he asked her, watching as she chased after his finger when he pulled it from her lips, a smug smile on his own. A quiet nod from her had his stomach raveling tighter.

Pressing the pad of his finger against her lips again, he watched as he parted her mouth for a repeat of what he'd already shared with her, only for him to paint the honey across her lips. The tip of his finger traced along the pillows of her mouth, going to the very corners without spilling over before he touched at the points of her Cupid's bow. Once he was done, Harry could see the glimmer of the nectar across her mouth, just like the lip glosses she loved to apply.

Her mouth stuttered as she tried to part her lips, a furrow pinching at her brow with a question forming on her lips before Harry silenced her as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was sticky and wet, the honey dripping down their chins before Harry had a chance to sweep it up with his tongue. Every slotting of her bottom lip between his two gave him a taste of the nectar, warmed by her skin and the heat of her breathing. It was (Y/N) that snuck her tongue out first, skimming along the full of his bottom lip and shuddering when she ran into the tip of his own tongue. Creeping his clean hand up to cup the back of her neck, Harry tipped her head back, allowing the smears of honey to be shared between them even if he felt his chin grow sticky and the corners of his lips were pasted to hers with the help of the nectar.

With a nudge of his nose against hers as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, (Y/N) parted her lips just enough for him to sneak his tongue inside and sweep across the planes of her mouth. The honey had sunk into the buds of her tongue, the sweetness being shared once again as he licked over it.

Pulling back with a wet pop, Harry looked at his Flame with hooded eyes, lips swollen and wet with a tacky chin. "Wish y'could taste it like I am—off of you. Got me crazy jus' kissing you," he murmured, feeling starry-eyed despite the morning sun streaming through his cottage windows.

(Y/N) shook her head, breathless with a lovingly pink and ravishingly red aura haloing her form. "I like it my way," she countered, a hazy dream carrying out her words, "I like it from you."

No matter how many times Harry found himself with her wrapped around him, murmuring any kind of praise, things like that still managed to bring a heat to his skin that threaded through his system to work its way up to his cheeks. He liked knowing she adored him as much as he did her—even in moments like these.

A smiley kiss was pressed to her lips, lacking the messy urgency from before. His hand on her neck drifted lower until he came into contact with the neckline of her borrowed shirt, his fingertips wiggling underneath the fabric as he pet at her bare skin.

"We should take this off, shouldn't we?" he mumbled against her kiss, a lingering peck of his lips being placed at the corner of her mouth.

With a contented smile still on her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head, "Yeah."

He made quick work of pulling her top over her head, arms raised over her head before the fabric joined the pile on the floor with garments that had been discarded the night before. Dropping his hands to her waist, Harry moved her to lay on her back, lifting her hips and splaying her legs on either side of his own knelt position.

With her head cushioned by the pillows and body sinking into the mattress below her, she looked like a goddess as tufts of his green dyed bedding cradled her form and sunlight dipped through the paneless windows and illuminated her skin. Stretches of bare skin were left on display as she laid under him, completely naked save for the tiny pair of underwear concealing her center. Harry sat between her spread legs, his own folded under him with his hands smoothing across the expanse of her tummy.

"You're so beautiful, (Y/N)," he murmured, words dripping with affection just the same way he could picture honey oozing over her skin. "'M so lucky, sunshine."

Peaks of baby pink colored her aura, complimented by happy yellows that softened the crimson shade that hovered the closest to her form. "H," she smiled a shy one, "you're gonna make me cry, stop."

"Nooo," he laughed, elongating the word as he folded himself over her with a press of his lips to the underside of her jaw, "Don't cry, sunshine. I'll have to cry too, and then we'll never get anything done."

"I don't want you to cry," (Y/N) played along with an exaggerated whine, wrapping her arms around his shoulders with her fingers tangling into the sweep of curls warming the back of his neck.

"Then, neither of us are allowed to cry," Harry cemented, popping his head out from the crook of her neck to press an exaggerated, smacking kiss to the corner of (Y/N)'s mouth, "We'll go back to almost having sex instead. Sound good?"

A bright smile broke out on (Y/N)'s features, lips still swollen despite the stretch. "Is that what we're doing? Because it felt like you were just finishing having your breakfast on me."

Harry only shrugged under her hold, a lopsided smile being pressed into the apple of her cheek. "Didn't hear y'complaining," he told her simply, the words melting into her skin.

"I will if you don't keep going before I get cold," (Y/N) sung, teasing words their own kind of honey that had Harry's heart skipping a beat.

Harry didn't say anything more before he pulled back, sitting back on his heels before he reached towards the forgotten honeypot that had thankfully stayed upright in the folds of the bedding through all the movement. With (Y/N) watching him, bare chest puffing with even breaths that he was determined to get out of order once again, he relied on the honey dipper this time. The hive-like head to the dipper was well coated in the nectar, but Harry still made a point to drag it through the thick substance a little longer, soaking it in.

Pulling it from the jar, a long string that funneled back in to join the rest of the honey draped from the dipper. Harry didn't pay it any mind before he was waving the wand over (Y/N)'s body until he met the ledge of her collarbone. He drew a long line over the bones, allowing most of it to pool in the dip between the two halves before he traced the final bit between the valley of her breasts. (Y/N)'s breathing was stilted at the touch he dragged over her skin.

With a touch of magic, Harry placed the honeypot carefully on his bedside table, right next to (Y/N)'s breakfast that felt like it could have been put together days ago as far as his memory served. Reaching over her with his fists planted in the bedding on either side of her body, Harry pressed his face against the curve of her neck. The tip of his nose dragged along the delicate slope, following after the small kisses he planted over her skin before he met the structure of her collarbones.

Just as he dipped his tongue out, lapping up the pool of honey in the dip at the base of her throat, Harry felt a pair of hands tangle themselves in the swirls of curls on the top of his head. (Y/N) pet the strands back, out of his face as she cleaned her skin of the mess he made just moments before, kissing and licking up the trail of honey from her petal-soft skin. A sheen was left on her collarbones from the lapping of his tongue that spread across the ledge, only sticky kiss-prints that he left behind being the only evidence that he had sweetened the area.

By the time he followed the line down between her breasts he noticed that the grip she had in his hair was urging him in the direction of the swells of her chest. A self-satisfied smile was pressed into her sternum as he stayed put.

"Not yet, lovie," he crooned to her, "Don't have honey there yet, so I can't kiss y'there."

"B-But," she whined, throwing her head back against the cushioning pillows with a huff he felt under his lips.

"'S alright, sunshine," he tried to soothe her, drawing away from her chest with a cant to his head, "Is that where y'want me next?"

The jerky nod of her head was all he earned in response.

With a wave of his fingers, the honeypot was back in his hand. The dipper was useless this time Harry decided as he dipped his fingers into the jar. His index and middle fingers were drenched in the nectar by the time he pulled them out, only a few drips falling back into the pot. He disregarded the mess of the remaining strings that hadn't yet bowed and broken as he pressed his fingers to the soft peaks of her nipples. Harry watched as he swiped the pads of his digits over the buds, the honey staying put for only a moment before spreading over her skin and glistening. He couldn't help the way he sat back on his heels, admiring the way the honey worked itself over her skin, dotting her with drops of sunshine and sunflowers.

(Y/N)'s hands had fallen down to his shoulders during his art project, but he could tell she was growing impatient with the way she arched her back off the mattress in an effort to thread her fingers back through the curls. With the added movement, the rippling of her breasts as she arched up for him, the nectar dared to drip down the swells of her breasts, painting the soft curve and giving him more reason to spend time lapping up every drop of the honey.

"'M coming, 'm coming," Harry crooned to her in an effort to placate the grabby hands that tried to claw their way into his hair.

As soon as the honeypot was put away safe from (Y/N)'s squirming form, Harry stuck true to his promise and ducked his head down until he was level with her chest. Licking a fat stripe over the peak of her nipple, Harry felt her shudder underneath him, another delicate arch of her spine to present more of her breasts to him. He allowed her to direct him just where he was wanted, staying steady over her nipple, soft lips sucking the bud with grazes of his tongue to lap away the startling pricks of his teeth. Her moans and breathless calls of his name was better than any record he could have plucked from his collection.

It was only when he remembered the rest of the mess that was painted over her skin that he managed to break from her hold. His tongue lazed over the curve of her breast, lapping up the thick drip of honey that threatened to drop from her chest and down the cage of her ribs. Her breast was left in a sheen that matched the one sparkling over her collarbone just before a dotted kiss was pressed to her puffy nipple.

(Y/N) relaxed into the bed, practically sinking into the springy mattress as he moved onto her twin breast, swirling his tongue over her nipple, collecting every bit of honey from her skin. Harry even felt his own eyes fluttered to a close when there was no more honey to lap from her chest, leaving him to lave over her nipple and listen to every hitched breath or sweet call of his name.

"Harry," (Y/N) whimpered when the blunt of his teeth came out to graze the soft curve of her breast.

"I know," he crooned, flirting his mouth over the swell of her chest before pulling her nipple softly between his lips in a wet suck, "Keep pulling m'hair, sunshine, 's alright."

Doing just that, Harry realized she wasn't trying to cling him to her chest anymore, despite the arching of her back. No, she was pushing him down towards the soft of her tummy and assumedly to the waistband of her panties that were stickier than the honeypot on his bedside table.

"Want me lower, lovie?" he asked her, peeking through the fan of his lashes to see her with her eyes fluttered closed and lips poised in a gap.

"Pl-Please," she gasped out, a stick-wet noise, "More, honey."

While he couldn't be sure if she was asking for more of the nectar that he'd been drawing over her skin, or calling him her favorite pet name, he didn't really care. Either way, she was going to get more of him and the honey.

With one more kiss pressed to her sternum, heart beat pounding against the bone, Harry lifted himself from his hovered position over her body. (Y/N)'s hands dropped from his hair, fingertips dragging down his bare chest as they mapped the ridges and dips of the blocks of muscle covering his abdomen. Through hooded eyes, she watched as he dipped his fingers into the pot, the dipper being knocked around as he swirled them through the nectar.

This time, the extra drips worked to his advantage as he hovered his fingers over the soft of her tummy. He let the drops pool in her bellybutton, a unexpected giggle falling from (Y/N)'s lips at the feel just before Harry's fingers were denting into the soft curve of her middle. In deliberate strokes, he spelled out his name across her skin, all capital letters that shone as a sheer gold in the light.

Looking up from his masterpiece, a smug grin on his lips, Harry saw a soft smile on (Y/N)'s lips that had his heart stuttering in his chest. "What, sunshine?"

Her eyes were still closed as she shook her head, "Just tickled. What did you draw, anyway?"

"M'name."

The simple answer had a shudder running through (Y/N)'s spine, the extra drops of the honey rippling and going rouge off of the 'Y' painted on her tummy.

"Yeah?" he pressed, a little too proud of her reaction, "Like having m'name on y'like that?"

"Uh-huh," she breathlessly affirmed, the blunt of her teeth peeking out as she tried to bite back her smile. "I wanna see it."

Harry perked up immediately at her request. "Can I take a picture of you, then?" The short nod he earned was just enough to have him snapping his fingers, his prized camera appearing in the same breath. "Smile, sunshine."

Though her face was just barely in frame, Harry still hoped he caught the extent of her lazy smile and softened features in the photo. Nonetheless, through the viewfinder, he centered the make of his name sparkling over her tummy as the main focus before he pressed down on the button at the top of the camera. A shutter sounded along with the click of the flash, following by the whirring of the photograph being printed from the slot.

As much as he would have wanted to wait for the photo to develop, coo over it with (Y/N) when she shied away at the sight of herself on the film, he had much more pressing matters to attend to.

"I'll show y'after, okay, sunshine?" he told her as she shuffled between her legs, laying with his chest flat against the bed with his legs hanging off. With a flick of his hand, both the camera and the photo were stowed away for safe keeping, away from the mess being made on the bed.

Harry was just barely aware of the quiet agreement she gave him with a nod of her head before she was distracted with the need to tangle her fingers through his hair as he hovered over her tummy. His first stop was to clean up the stray drips that threatened to make a bigger mess than wouldn't be as much fun to clean as his Flame. He swiped his tongue over her skin, tickling the soft of his love's waist before he placed a gentle kiss to soothe her giggley form. The letters of his name were perfected with the help of his pointed tongue and the effort it took for him to not get distracted and lick over her in broad stripes.

In an attempt to preserve his branding for a moment longer, the pool that collected in her bellybutton was the next to be sipped from. That had (Y/N) letting out peals of laughter with her fingers tight in his hair, only intensifying when he dipped his tongue inside and cleared her of the stick as best he could.

"H-Harry, stop," she laughed, knees bending on either side of his shoulders as her hips bucked, "Tha-That tickles."

"Sorry, sorry," he smiled, nose grazing her soft skin as he shook his head, "Almost done, sunshine. Jus' want to make sure you're all clean."

She only settled when he finished with a puckered kiss against her bellybutton, her breathing ragged but sweet. "Thank you," she breathed out, carding her fingers through his hair as he started on the task of devouring his name as it was written on her skin.

As much as he hated for the brand to diminish, he was finding nothing had ever tasted as sweet as the stamp of his name written in honey on her skin. In deliberate strokes of his tongue, the broad letters he wrote in remained in the glistening tracks left behind by his tongue. With the sun shining just perfectly over her form, HARRY sparkled over her skin, not quite as bold and sticky as the honey, but still something that placated that primitive need in him to claim her despite the tether that joined their hearts.

Though the sight of her heaving chest with his name glimmering on her tummy was the perfect distraction, Harry couldn't ignore the set of panties displayed right in his face. The last place that hadn't felt the kiss of his honey and the streak of his tongue this morning.

Pulling away with a heavy breath, chest feeling just as tight as his balls under his hardened cock, Harry stood at the end of the bed. (Y/N)'s still bent legs were planted with her feet flat in the bedding that cradled her. With a gentle grip, Harry grabbed for her ankles, pulling them out from under her before he tugged her to sit with her bottom at the very edge of the mattress. He was her landing pad as he dropped to his knees, laying her soft thighs over his shoulder with her toes curling against his shoulder blades.

"Still need me here?" he asked her, fingers hooking into the waist of her panties. Looking up, he found (Y/N) with her eyes bright and clear as she gazed down at him with wide eyes.

"Uh-huh," she breathed out, sinking into the mattress despite wanting to keep her eyes on her man kneeling between her legs. "Please."

A soft, lopsided smile graced his features, only a single dimple denting his cheek as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"Hand me the honey, please, sunshine," he requested, hands too busy tugging her panties down with a lift of her hips to conjure up the nectar.

It was cute the way she scrambled to reach for the bedside table without straying more than an inch from him. With the dipper clinking against the lip of the jar, Harry took it from her with a gentle kiss to the same hands that had started his obsessed with tasting the honey from her skin.

With her bare before him, still swollen some from the way he treated her pussy the night before, Harry couldn't stop himself before he pressed an affectionate kiss to her clit. Her toes scrunched behind his back with her hands scrambling to make a home in his hair. A quiet call of his name floated in the open air of his cottage, pricking his ears and puffing his chest at the sound of the whine.

"'M excited about this part, sunshine, I can't lie," he crooned, swirling the dipper through the honey. Looking up from between her legs, (Y/N) was blissfully sunken into the bed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip with stilted breaths expanding her chest. "The second y'let me start playing, been so excited to get some honey on your pussy and treat y'right after how many times y'took care of me last night. I know it's gonna taste so good with your cum."

The soft of her thighs muffed his ears, clenching around his head even when Harry let out a short laugh at her reaction.

"Ready?" he asked her, drawing the dipper from the jar with honey dripping from the tip.

"Harry, please," was her perfect plead.

In gentle passes, the dipper was stroked over her core. Each side of her slit was glazed with the honey before the bud of her clit was draped in the nectar, glistening like her wetness had been spread thickly over her pussy. He couldn't help but to press a nudging tease of the dipper against her clit, happy with the way she shuddered and almost arched her back off the bed at the simple touch.

But, that pride was quickly pushed to the back of his mind when he saw the way her opening clenched around nothing between her parted lips. That had his mouth absently dropping open in a matching gape to the one on (Y/N)'s face, his hips pressing into the side of the mattress from where he knelt at the edge. The pressure of the soft bedding released tension he hadn't known he'd been holding since he started work on her body. Shuffling on his knees, Harry moved with his arms wrapping around the outside of (Y/N)'s thighs, hands pressed into her hips while his own pelvis was mercifully pressed into the mattress.

"So, so, so pretty, sunshine," he breathed in awe, tracing the drops of honey that ran down to the crease of her ass with his eyes. "I wouldn't have eaten m'breakfast if I knew y'were gonna let me have you instead."

The tugging of his hair was his reward for his praising words, the tensing of her tummy felt under his fingertips. "H, please."

Nothing would ever sound sweeter than the call of his name in her voice. And, nothing could ever taste sweeter than that first graze of his tongue over her honey-covered pussy, sweet and tart and warm. A contented moan slipped out of Harry's throat as he reveled in the taste of her, cheeks already sticky from the clinging honey that he'd smeared over her body. He didn't pay it any mind as soon as he started hearing the breathless moans and quiet whines that fell from his sunshine's lips, his only job now to see how many times he could hear her call to him while he did nothing more than kiss and service her core as she deserved.

Honey slicked over his lips as he barely remembered to clean it from (Y/N)'s skin, instead laving his tongue over the skin underneath, sucking at her slit and nosing at her clit. Wet sounds filled the cottage every time he sucked at her pussy, sticky and slick with the way he popped off only to dive right in with a shake of his face against her core. Her skin shone with the stick of the honey and slick of his spit, spreading as far as painting the soft inside of her thighs. The tip of his nose was even dotted with some honey that he'd collected every time he dove into her center. Broad stripes of his tongue over the full of her core was enough to remind him of the extra drops that were traveling down her core, and settling in the crease just before the curve of her ass.

Pulling back, Harry wanted to look at the mess he was making, tasking one of his thumbs to reach from it's spot on her hip to press into the bud of her clit. Watching the way (Y/N) clenched around nothing, just the idea of him sinking inside whether it be with his tongue, his fingers, or the cock, had him rutting against the side of the bed, enough to have him dizzy. He watched as a rouge drip of the nectar ran from the slit of her pussy, and down, down, down.

He watched as she keened at the feel of something dipping farther down, between her cheeks to somewhere Harry hadn't played with yet. Keeping one of his hands stationed on her hip, thumb gently petting at her puffy clit, Harry used the other to carefully separate spread her bottom open, showing just where the honey had descended.

While this was never an area they had broached together, this wasn't uncharted territory as far as Harry's past was concerned. It was never something he was especially privy to, but now that the idea had presented itself in the form of dripping honey painting down to his lover's most intimate area, he didn't think he had it in him to turn it down.

"Wh-What are you doing? Why'd you stop?" (Y/N) whined, hips shifting and subsequently giving him a better view of where he was currently trying to talk himself out of burying his face into.

"Jus' looking at you, sunshine. That's all," he murmured, not telling the whole truth. Nonetheless, to appease her, he began pressing random kisses along the crease of her bottom, lapping up any fallen honey and charting her reactions every time he got closer to the cleft between her cheeks.

He dared closer and closer until he fit his chin between, a gentle line of kisses with sweeps of his tongue being smattered across her slit before he ventured further down. His eyes were attentive and watching as he looked for any negative reaction the second his mouth fit between her spread cheeks.

With the way she keened, bucking her hips into his circling thumb, she was either too lost in her pleasure to notice the sweep of his tongue as he collected the rogue drop of honey that inspired this want in him, or she didn't mind the intrusion at all.

Harry grew bold as he nudged his way between her asscheeks, licking over the puckered hole typically nestled out of sight. The clench of that first touch over her was enough to even have his eyes trying to flutter to a close. Until, he heard (Y/N)'s voice.

"Ar-Are you—?" she breathlessly asked, cutting herself off before she could ask exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah," he breathed, the exhale fanning across her heated skin, another clench around a phantom touch from her little hole, "Yeah, I am."

"Oh, my god."

The way she bucked her hips hard against his hand, back arched with her head pushed back into the cushion of the mattress underneath was enough to have Harry pressing his own hips into the soft of the springy mattress.

She fucking liked it.

That was all he needed to know before he was burying his face between her spread cheeks, swiping his tongue over her puckered entrance. He never stopped the touching over her clit, keeping her content in case he made a move that didn't have her keening. Honey dripped over his tongue and stained his mouth as he tasted her deeper than he ever had before, the tip of his tongue sliding through the very bottom of her slit every time she keened into him.

The creaking springs of his mattress gave away just how into this Harry was, his hips thrusting against he edge as if he were fucking into his girl instead of tufts of bedding. It was enough of a trip knowing that he was eating her ass, tasting and kissing and giving her all the attention she seemed to fall in love with the second he made the drop, but the extra tension relief of pressing his weepy cock into the mattress through the thin material of his boxers was enough to have his mind melting to mush.

"Ha-Harry, I'm gonna cum—oh my god," she breathed out, voice whiny and pitched as she pressed her hips back into his face.

"Yeah? Like what 'm doing, sunshine? Like it when I eat y'back here too?" he pressed, knowing just how much she liked his voice when he was tucked between her legs like this.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, please keep going." As if Harry had a choice the second she cushioned his head between her thighs, muffing him against her core as her toes curled again his shoulder blades.

His balls were drawn up tight against the base of his cock, leaving him just as close to the edge as his flame was if her whining and clenching around nothing was anything to go by. Her newly discovered entrance was slick enough, warm enough, loose enough that Harry couldn't think straight with the way he ground his hips into the mattress before he was pointing his tongue and wiggling just the very tip into her puckered hole.

That was all it took to have her clenching around him with a cry of his name. Choked sobs filled the cottage, calling all the flowers in his garden to attention as their caretaker's love was shining like the sun. A shimmer filled the ceiling as she came, Harry's thumb never relenting over her clit, even when he felt his own unraveling coming to fruition from the way he thrust his hips against the bed.

His moans were muffled against her pussy, tongue still pointed and clenched inside her ass as she slowly came down while Harry reached his peak. His fingertips dented the soft curve of her bottom as he felt his entire body tense while he spurted his cum into the fabric of his boxers, the material clinging wetly to his length.

Harry didn't have any concept of time as he pulled his face from between her cheeks and began placing kisses along the line of her slit, apologizing to her bullied clit with a single kiss pressed just above it. He panted as he came down, body unclenching and relaxing some as he fell back on his heels with the help of (Y/N) pushing him away from her over sensitive body.

"Harry?"

Looking up, he found (Y/N) gazing at him with a plea in her eyes.

That was all it took for him to scramble up to his feet and situate himself between her legs with his kisses now being pressed all over her neck and chest.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he crooned between every press, wary of the fact she might not want him kissing her face considering where his mouth just was.

"I love you, too, H—Oh my god, I can't believe you did that," (Y/N) rushed out, voice sounding hallow and far off despite the thrumming pulse Harry felt under his lips.

"Wasn't expecting that either, honestly," he told her, his smile being pressed to the curve of her throat before he drew away to get a look at her face. Hair in disarray with swollen lips and hooded eyes—just as beautiful as he remembered. "Y'liked it, though?"

A bashful peachy color bled into her aura at the question just before a quiet nod was delivered with her hair fluffing against the comforter under her. "I didn't know that was something for me, but I guess it is."

"If it makes y'feel better," he started, pressing a tentative kiss just below her ear, "I came in m'pants while was doing it. Think we both liked it a little too much."

A peal of shocked laughter shook (Y/N)'s chest, Harry's heart bloating at the sound. "Did you really? I'm sorry, H! I would have helped you if I wasn't distracted."

"No, don't be sorry," he commanded, voice gentle, "Y'did help me, jus' not like y'usually do."

"I guess so," she relented with a smile, settling into the mattress with a tender smile on her face.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest, not caring about the slight stick of her skin from all the honey he poured over her or the wet spot that was drying on his boxers. With his head in her neck, he wouldn't be surprised if he fell asleep just like these, even with his early riser habits.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I think we should shower."

A beat passed.

"Together, right?"

"Is there any other way?"

The broad smile that stretched over Harry's cheeks was enough of an answer that had (Y/N) rolling off the bed with his hand in hers towards the bathroom.

Looking at the sparkling strips of skin that displayed just where she'd allowed him to pour his love, Harry made a mental note to harvest some more honey for tomorrow's breakfast. Probably a little extra too, just in case.

—————

ngl this was not the route I thought I would be taking w this piece but it happened!!! thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests or anything please send them in!

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