#When I say that I have written more and longer fics in the last two months than I have probably in all my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadesoflsk · 2 months

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YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has.

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is.

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon.

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man.

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better.

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature.

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it.

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon.

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging.

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him.

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience.

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air.

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.”

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew.

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having.

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence.

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy.

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye.

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings.

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret.

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk.

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you.

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up.

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?”

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time.

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish.

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date.

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror.

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations.

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do.

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario.

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope.

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret.

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret.

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself.

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry.

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle.

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you.

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep.

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose.

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter.

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur.

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you.

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior.

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this.

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it.

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world.

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess.

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now?

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you.

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have.

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted.

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession.

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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j-onedrabbles · 5 months

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𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒎𝒚𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏

✧ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X FEM!READER ✧ PLOT: listened to STUCKINMYBRAINAGAIN by Chase Atlantic and decided i needed to write angst + anon requests: "Hi hi! Could I request a Channie comfort drabble/fic were the gf!reader starts to distance themselves from Channie because of a really believable dating rumor they found online involving him?" ✧ CW: fem!reader, overthinking, dating rumor, crying, unhealthy coping mechanisms (using alcohol to cope), themes of cheating (there is no actual cheating), reader is written to be of drinking age but age never mentioned, ✧ WC: 1.5K ✧ NOTE: this was kinda sitting in my drafts with a rough idea of a plot then i got an anon requests and it clicked so enjoy

It had to be a rumor. Right?

Y/n scrolled through her Twitter, seeing her boyfriend trending wasn’t new but, curiously clicked it to see what he did this time. Only to find it was a dating rumor.

At first, she thought that Stay or div-1 caught them out on one of their dates but, as she scrolled, she found that it didn’t even involve her. It was another woman. Photos from afar— like most dating rumor photos were— but Y/n could believe this was her boyfriend and someone else, but it wasn't. Was it?

Chan was friends with half the K-pop industry and she knew he had female friends. Could it be one of them? Maybe they were just hanging out?

The longer she looked at the tag, the more her heart ached. Chan spent long hours at the studio working on music for 3RACHA and the kids. What if it wasn't music? Just an excuse to go out with someone else?

The angel on her shoulder told her Chan would never. He was loyal. The best boyfriend anyone could ask for. But the devil was louder.

She got up from the couch and tried to busy herself with anything around the house. Chan had a packed week of schedules and had already told her he was going to crash at the dorms but he promised would text her when he had time—one week of not seeing him.

She couldn't even talk to the guys since they all had promotions to do. What if it was a staff member? She felt like she was going to be sick. Turning on their speaker and blasting a playlist— one without any songs her boyfriend had made, which was a hard feat.

Cleaning the whole apartment while the random Spotify playlist played. She drowned out any noise in her head for as long as she could. Even made dinner for herself and turned on a movie. Silently eating as her phone pinged with a message. She looked at the screen to see the name.

Channie♡: hey baby, just got back to the dorms. How was your day? Y/n♡: okay. Just cleaned the apartment and made dinner. Channie♡: I’m glad you got something to eat love! Are you doing alright without me so far 😉 Y/n♡: yeah. The apartment feels a little empty though. Channie♡: I’m sorry baby 😣 I’m hoping this week goes by fast. I already miss you. Try and get some sleep tonight, okay? Y/n♡: You too. Talk to you later. Channie♡: Yeah, I’ll try and text you more throughout the day, yeah? I love you ❤️ Y/n♡: ily2

Chan looked at the last text, he knew his girlfriend. She wasn’t one to abbreviate an “I love you”. Maybe she just wasn’t having a good day? Tired maybe? She did say she cleaned the whole apartment. He wished he could at least be with her at night but with all their promoting at the moment, it was just a little easier to stay with the kids at the dorms. He’d check in with her when he woke up, maybe send her some food tomorrow.

But he noticed the time between her responses got more and more spaced out and cut down to one or two-word answers. He tried asking her what was wrong but she always said she was fine. It was at the end of the week when one of the guy's managers told him about the dating rumor.

He immediately thought the same as her. Their relationship was caught by fans or div-1. The staff showed him the photos and immediately knew it wasn’t them. Yeah, the guy had the same height and build as him, dressed similarly, and had his face hidden. He thought it was him too for a moment but it was the girl he was with. Complete opposite of Y/n.

He took a closer look at the guy. “That's not me or Y/n. How long has this been out?”

“All week. We knew it wasn’t either of you but we wanted your confirmation.”

All week? The same amount of time Y/n had been acting off. “Fuck,” he sighed

“We can put out a statement denying it and announcing you and Y/n’s relationship,” The manager suggested

“Let me talk to her first. I think she already knows about the rumor.” Chan was thankful it was the end of the day and he finished the last schedule.

He hurried to make his way back home, calling his girlfriend along the way. No answer.

“Hi, you’ve reached Y/n L/n. I can’t come to the phone right now but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Hi, baby. I’m on my way home. We need to talk when I get there. I love you.”

Y/n listened to the voicemail but did nothing. One week had her spiraling. She ended up taking out one of their bottles and pouring herself a drink. Just wanting the thoughts to stop at this point.

She didn’t know how much she had actually been drinking, just that her world was getting blurry a bit. She didn't even register the front door opening.

“Y/n?” Chan’s voice called

He looked around the living room before spotting her in the kitchen. Both kept eye contact before Y/n broke down. Tears slipped from her eyes as she put the glass on the counter.

“Baby,” Chan ran over to her and pulled her into his arms.

“Is there someone else Chan?” Y/n said through tears.

He noticed the bottle of alcohol and felt worse. She’d known about it all week and said nothing. Thinking worse to the point of drinking.

“There’s no one else baby. Let’s get you some water and sit down, okay?”

“Is she an idol? One of the staff?”

God his heart broke hearing that. He should have checked Twitter or social media sooner. Slowly he sat her on the floor and quickly grabbed some water from the fridge for her. He sat down across from her and soothed her tears as best he could before getting her to drink the water.

“Can you look at me, baby?” Chan asked softly

Y/n looked at him, sniffling as she hugged her knees to her chest.

“Let’s go take a nap okay? Sober up a bit and then talk. Okay?”

“Okay…”

Chan reached his hands towards her to help her up and walk with her to the bedroom. “How much did you drink?”

“Don’t know. Just wanted to stop thinking about the rumor,” Y/n said as he got her under the covers. “Things are a bit blurry.”

“Get some sleep for now. I’ll be here when you wake up and then we can talk.”

Y/n sniffled and wrapped her arms around him, trying to keep him close. Chan did the same. Not wanting to let her go at the moment. Y/n let his warmth lull her to sleep.

Both ended up falling asleep till morning. Not intending to but that's what happened. Chan woke up first but refused to get out of bed. First time in a week he got to wake up next to his girlfriend and he wasn’t missing out on anything.

He ran his hand through her hair as he looked down at her sleeping form on his chest. Slowly she started the stir, waking to her pretty boyfriend looking at her with stars in his eyes.

“Good morning baby.”

“Morning,” she grumbled, cuddling into him more, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby. I almost believed it too.”

“Doesn't excuse me for accusing you of cheating. Should have talked to you when I saw it.”

“Hey. The company didn't even tell me till yesterday and I knew you had already seen it. I know you get in your head sometimes but, next time you see a dating rumor about me, talk to me.”

“Don't want any more rumors about you.”

“They asked me if I wanted to confirm our relationship. Think that’d keep the dating rumors at bay.” Chan smiled and tilted her face up to him, placing a quick kiss on her lips. “If you don't want to, that's fine baby. But I love you either way. You’re the only one I see a future with.”

Y/n teared up a bit hearing him say that. She cupped his cheeks and pulled him back into a kiss. Chan smiled and pulled her closer to him, moving his lips in sync with hers before pulling away and resting his forehead against hers.

“Tell Stay about us. I’m okay with the world knowing about us.” Y/n told him

“Think you're just being possessive baby,” Chan joked.

“Says you,” Y/n laughed at him

“I’ll call them later. Right now I need to make up for not being around for a week.”

Chan kissed her again and rolled her onto her back, smothering her in kisses and cuddles.

M. LIST ✧ TIP JAR

T A G S ✧ @soulphoenix1618 @hanniemylovelyquokka @hyuneline @scarletbedlam @lillithathecat @cosniffee @caravm @queen-in-the-shadows @moonlight-the-writer @skzhoes @ultimatestayandminoronce @watermelon2319 @poody1608 @iadorethemskz @goblinracha @weakforskz @scallywag1299 @2mins-world @iloveksmohsomuch @stickycrusadecollective @lacie220900 @your-platonic-gay-lover @lvlnijiro @smally97 @lynlyndoll @bbokari711 @liknws @nicora04 @hrskt @lookitsjess @5starlee @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @mini-mews @red-airhead @minhwa @soupbinlily @caitlyn98s @alex--awesome--22 @emyferra08 @yeetmehome @hyunjinswifeee @greyyeti @beautifulcolorgarden @ylixbok @tinyelfperson @mixtape-racha @lovesunshinefelix @princelingperfect @slay-and-gay @the-sweetest-rose

#: ̗̀➛karmic writes #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan x reader angst #bang chan x reader fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #stray kids x reader fluff #stray kids x reader angst #skz x reader fluff #skz x reader angst

815 notes · View notes

essentiallyleaf · 7 months

Text

day 06. dacryphilia. with. karina.

964 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, friends to lovers(?), dacryphilia (that’s being aroused by tears btw), deepthroating, sex toys, choking, overstimulation, tit slapping, basically unedited, boring tags.

notes.

a little bit of a shorter one today, i was planning on releasing a different fic, but didn’t like how that was coming out and had to write this last second. hope it’s not too bad. weepily, leaf.

It was the exact moment you reached the back of her throat that Jimin’s eyes started to glisten. Not the same way they did when you suggested pizza night to her, no, it was obviously a lewder, more desperate way, but somehow still as affectionate, as enthusiastic do be able to spend time with you doing something that she loves. And while it was clear since you two were best buddies in high school that she loved eating an entire burrata pizza while watching baseball with you, it took a little longer for her to find out that she loved leaving cherry lipstick marks on the base of your cock while you deepthroated her, as well.

Then Chaehyun’s house party happened. Chaehyun was one of Jimin’s best friends since before you knew her, you weren’t particularly close to her, maybe she was jealous of you, the shiny, (only relatively) new boy that just popped up in high school, and quickly became the person Jimin shares her secrets with - one time, she told you, she was trying to flirt with this girl that was in her French class, so she made a paper plane with her number written on the inside and threw it at her, but the paper plane “got caught in the wind” (“It was poorly built, just say it!” “Bro, bet that if we built one each right now, mine would fall further!” - it did) and hit the teacher’s back; fortunately he didn’t open it and just threw it in the bin thinking it was a joke in bad taste, but when at the end of the class she asked the girl out, the girl completely freaked out, telling her that she wasn’t out yet and that if her parents found out she’d be dead; they never spoke again. Or maybe she wasn’t jealous and you were just trying to demean her because you felt that this competition for being Jimin’s one and only was a real thing.

Anyway, late into Chaehyun’s house party, you and Jimin started nosing around in her upper floor, and specifically her room, and she found this purple vibrator (she said she had no idea it was there, but you knew she had been in that room before plenty of times - you’re not trying to imply anything, just, she is the type of girl who might decide to pull someone else’s sex toy out in front of you, because she knows what would happen if she did). What happened after she did was you on top of Jimin with a hand on the vibrator circling around her clit and the other around her throat, choking her. Tears were falling down each side of her face when she came.

Jimin rocks your world. It took you a while to find out all the ways in which she does (well, all the ones you know thus far), but what matters is, you got to that conclusion. And you got to that conclusion in a flash, it took one moment. It was a normal school night, it doesn’t matter when. The two of you were having sex missionary in your shared apartment - the decision to rent one together when you’d be in college came at the end of 10th grade; it was already clear by then that you’d have to deal with each other’s presence for a while. She had just had her third orgasm, some tears already shed in the first two, and her eyes were now closed in absolute bliss. You grabbed her chin: “Open up - glistening, I tell you - and look at me. Don’t close them anymore, ‘kay?”

You resumed your pumping while she was still sensitive, you heard her whining because of it. Her huge, fluffy tits were bouncing in a hypnotizing motion, begging to be touched. That’s a euphemism, you thought, as you smacked her left boob with your right hand. The yell that left her throat was the loudest of the night. What would the neighbors think? (What would they be thinking? “They’re fucking. It’s the sixth time this week.” That’s no news.)

Your eyes went back to hers. She hadn’t closed them, the good girl. And now her lips were quivering. Slap her right mound. Then back to the left. As you kept thrusting your hips into hers, Jimin started weeping.

“Look at me. I am so close. You’ll need to endure for me just a little more”

You weren’t lying, but let’s just say you didn’t take the quickest route. You detoured by going back to smacking the girl’s tits repeatedly, and now she was bawling. You took her hands and lifted her up, now basically kneeling on the bed, then wrapped your arms around her back as you pumped upwards into her pussy. She screamed her lungs out, as she probably reached her fourth, but it wasn’t her voice, it was her legs instinctively meeting on your back that spoke to you. And what they were saying was “I need it inside”. You heard her loud and clear, and deposited buckets of cum in her belly. Still completely wrapped around each other, the two of you fell back onto the bed, panting. Her entire face was wet in tears, her mascara completely ruined.

Jimin rocks your world. It’s when you look at her in the eyes that you can just tell. One moment. You were so focused on her, on keeping her happy and on not sharing her with anyone else, that you never realized how good you felt around her, how good she made you feel.

“How about I help you clean your face from your make-up?”

“I think I’ll need to clean down there, too”

Some of your cum was already flowing out of her pussy.

“Shower with me?”

footnotes.

i wonder if you can make a smut only describing stills and never an actual scene. experimentally, leaf.

917 notes · View notes

harunovella · 10 months

Text

feel my unconditional love ; t.u.

synopsis: being the fourth wife of tengen uzui must have been the world punishing you for being unmarried at the ripe age of 18; the last in your family to move on... or so you thought.

cw: alternate universe, fourth wife!reader, self isolation, arranged marriage, mentions of violence, near death experience, tengen is just such a good man and husband, reader just needs a big hug, angst, running away, slight slow burn, training, loss of virginity, oral, first time, love confessions, plot twist, happy ending, ambiguous ending, not beta read

wc: 9.4k+

an: my first ever tengen fic! I love this man so very much and it's a shame he's hardly written... a lil side note, the reader goes through mild depression but it isn't stated as such, she just isn't happy with the predicament she's in and is sort of on a self destructive path (self isolation/not eating out of sadness) but I promise there's a happy ending! if it's not your sort of thing, you are more than welcome to ignore the story...

p.s. this is only reader x tengen, the wives are only mentioned throughout the story and have minor interactions with the reader (sorry, not sorry, I want tengen all to myself)

The sound of rain pouring down from the evening showers and colliding with the veranda echoed in your head. You sat with your knees pulled in, gazing out into the dark of the night as the thunderstorm roared. Lightening flashed momentarily before the explosive rumble followed. It wasn't wise to be sitting so close to the rain as the gusts of wind caused the droplets to lightly sprinkle at you and the interior of your room... however, you didn't seem to care. The state of mind you were in wasn't a lovely one.

It had been less than 24 hours since you became the fourth wife to the retired Hashira, Uzui Tengen. The sound of Mrs. Uzui from outside your room was unsettling and foreign to you whenever someone wanted to speak to you—whether to give you food or check up on you. After all, the second you became a wife, you practically locked yourself away from the rest of the world after, digging yourself deeper into the sorrow you felt.

You were the youngest and last daughter in your clan who needed to be wedded off. In a family of five sisters, it was expected for you all to be raised into proper housewives. A life you despised. You never wanted this, any of this. You had avoided it for so long. All your sisters married fairly young, between the ages of 15 and 16... you, however, were 18 and managed to add some time. Solely because you were the youngest and everyone was so busy they had nearly forgotten about you... but that didn't last long.

The moment your clan came to the realization that you were now 18, still unwed and doing nothing, they were quick on their feet. You weren't present for most of the decision making, only aware that a certain clan owed yours and this was the perfect way to clear up the debt. The details were never given to you, why it was that something was owed, but you were told the man you'd marry not only was practically one of the last of his clan, but also already wedded to three other wives.

That left a bad taste in your mouth.

How could your family allow this? Tossing you two a man with that many wives? Surely they must've cared some for you.. right?

Apparently, they did not.

You were unhappy as it was, but to be a fourth wife to someone? You've heard plenty horror stories of women in marriages such as those. Being used as nothing more than a tool to expand clans, long forgotten once they no longer could produce. Others dying and being disposed of during child labor (or while carrying a child). It terrified you, to say the least. Was that what you were going to end up as? Such a young woman with a who life to live... only for it to be taken from you just because you were seen as a breeding machine?

You cried for days before the wedding. You cried the day of. And you cried right after when you locked yourself up.

Now? You were exhausted. Your eyes heavy, your body aching to rest, but you just couldn't... no matter what. Even though the ceremony was less than a day ago, you couldn't quite remember the last time you properly slept. You got no more than three to four hours of sleep. You barely ate, too. How were you still functioning?

Days would come and go, and you'd be the same. Hidden from the others, not showing yourself during meals or, really, anything. The maids would come knocking but you'd never answer. Food was always left outside your door and it was almost always halfway full. You tried to eat, but everything was tasteless to you. The spiral you had found yourself falling into was deadly... even the other wives would try to speak to you, mentioning how worried they were.

You didn't even know their names.

Or did you? Maybe it was mentioned at one point. Who knows, you've been on autopilot for a while now. Information goes into one ear and out the other. What have you become?

"I'm worried for her..." Hinatsuru sighed as she sat besides Suma and Makio. "She hasn't come out of there and it's been two weeks..."

"She's hardly touched her meals, I can see the portions get smaller but the plates are never empty," Makio added.

"Yeah, and ever time I ask her if she'd like to join me whenever I go to the hot springs, she never answers!" Suma frowned as Makio shot her a glare.

"Why the hell would she want to do that if she's been avoiding all of us?!" The black and yellow haired woman growled as Suma's frown deepened.

"I don't blame her," Tengen sighed as he was sat before them in their garden. "She was forced into something she didn't want. She's the youngest of her clan, people's mindsets change. Generations move away from the old ways. And I'm sure the idea of me having three wives already left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't raised in an environment like ours."

Eyeing the white haired man, Hinatsuru settled her hands on her knees, "maybe you should try and talk to her... I feel bad for the poor girl. She hardly knows anything about us and who knows what her clan has fed her. She's scared and I don't think she'd be willing to ever come out if we don't try... Especially you, Lord Tengen."

You were trying your best to eat a little more than you had the day before, no matter how much your body was refusing, even if it screamed for it just as badly. The sound a knock made you flinch slightly before you settled the warm bowl down beside you, muttering a small who is it? as you sat on the tatami matting.

"It's me," though you didn't hear much of him, you knew who it was. There wasn't much male voices around anyway. "May I come in?"

Considering it, seeing as you haven't really seen or spoken to someone in quite some time—losing track—you gulped. "Okay..." you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of your kimono.

Sliding the door open, unsure what to expect, Tengen peeked in and spotted your small frame in the corner of the room, tray of picked at food beside you as your gaze went out beyond the veranda. You were alive, obviously so, and you weren't... destructive. The room looked as if it was hardly even lived in, but by the looks of it, you managed to at least keep up with yourself. At least, for your hygiene. As much as you avoided everyone, he was told that you would leave the room rather late at night to bathe and clean up before going back to locking yourself in. However... you weren't eating much and it was a major concern. You did eat some, you managed to get food in your belly, but you never properly finished your meals.

Feeling his lingering presence, you turned your head to face the towering man who was still at the threshold. There was clear concern on his face, the way he had eyed his surroundings with a faint furrow of his eyebrows... Then, he looked at you, and you were sure he noticed the dark circles and the subtle redness in your eyes from your lack of sleep and tears. You had gotten a little better within the time that has progressed, seeing as you were at least never truly bothered or forced to do anything... but you still struggled and you were still scared.

"You know, you are more than welcome to treat this home as your own. It is, after all, yours as much as it is mine," Tengen spoke up, eyeing you, but you stayed silent and looked away. He watched as you pulled your knees in and gazed out at the stars. It was a clear night this time around. Looking down at your tray, seeing you ate a bit more than usual, Tengen took in a quiet, deep breath. "We are all here for you if you need anything..." At that, he left. Not a word uttered from you nor a look back.

This was going to be much more difficult than he had thought.

You were going to run away. That's what you decided when you nearly struck a month of being a married woman living in her own isolation. You were tired of being locked away out of fear and all that you filled your head with. You wanted to live your dream of traveling the world and being a free woman, no longer shackled to her family and the old ways of life.

You were eating more, slept a bit more, maybe it was because you had been scheming to sneak away and disappear for good. Maybe you were excited. Maybe you've completely lost your mind. Whatever it was, it gave you enough courage to do what you were doing now. Since no one really forced their way into your space, leaving you be, no one was aware of what you had in mind. You also weren't aware either, as the world was so vast and you knew so little. But you wanted to do it. You wanted to run, to run so far, to see it all. To see what other lands were like. To feel the wind, to watch the ocean roll onto the shore. Everything and more. A life for yourself that you deserved.

After all, what more could a young woman want? It wasn't like you thought of the consequences of such actions. You were begging to live in a vivid dream, away from the nightmare your parents brought you into.

It wasn't hard to leave the premises of the Uzui estate. You managed to slip out late at night, later than when you'd bathe. You wore something more suitable than what you normally wore, clothing to allow for more movement. A small bag was slung over your shoulder and onto your back as you made your way out and nearly sprinted on ahead. You were foolish, that was given, but you wouldn't admit that. It would bite you on the ass for being so brainless... but that wasn't of your concern.

At least, not yet.

All you thought about was the cold, night air patting your exposed skin. How strands of your hair that flew from its braid tickled at your cheeks. The way you felt the grass crunch beneath your feet as the moonlight guided your path. You held a compass in one hand, deciding to go North West, in hopes to run into something along the way.

As your feet pulled you along, you kept your guard up. Sure, traveling alone at night never was wise, but you weren't about to walk out of the residence in broad daylight for everyone to see. This was a huge risk you were willing to take, and, again... you were foolish. You were well aware of demons, aware that your husband was once a destroyer of their kind, so of course you believed yourself to be fine. Wasn't like you'd get caught up in a mess, right? What were the odds, anyway?

The trio decided to leave you your dinner again, all three wives deciding to make the effort into visiting your room more often than not to at least know you were alright and alive in there. None of them blamed you for how you felt... even if a month had passed. Hinatsuru was always the one to knock first and announce the delivery of your food, while Makio listed what was available on the tray, followed by Suma offering (once again) to go to the springs together. It almost became a daily routine for them, seeing as you were now one of them, they wanted nothing more but to help you feel at home. Or, at least, try to. If you'd let them...

On the night of your "escape" from the estate, Tengen felt the odd desire to check on you. It was something he did often, once a day at least—and, if not—every other day. He stood from his seat amongst his wives suddenly, excusing himself without an explanation as he aimed for your room within the Uzui grounds. There was a sense of urgency, and his gut instincts never failed him.

Tapping his knuckles on your shoji, Tengen called your name. As the seconds pass, and he'd call your name repetitively, his tone became one of urgency. Slight panic began to build within his chest, his eyebrows furrowed as you didn't answer. No matter what, you always responded to his knocks.

Sliding the partition open, Tengen searched the area before stepping in. Nothing was out of place, everything was as they were each and every time he'd visit. Taking a few steps towards the veranda and peeking out, there was no sight of you.

Sucking in a sharp breath as he felt his heart race, Tengen searched every inch of his home, places you'd usually be at this hour of night. Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

Taking in sharp breaths as he clenched and unclenched his fist, he eagerly returned to his wives, words slipping off his tongue faster than he could process them, "she's run away."

"What?!" The three grasped in unison.

"Where could she be?!" Suma shrieked.

"It's not safe out there, especially at this hour!" Makio added.

Frowning in worry, Hinatsuru placed a hand on the man's arm, giving it a small squeeze of urgency, "you must find her... she could be in danger right now for all we know."

You weren't bright. That was a given. You were still a teenager, though considered an adult, you just barely lived two decades of your life. Of course things would go bad for you, of course the universe wasn't kind to those who failed to use logic and took advantage. Now in a state of fear, you felt guilty. You should've stayed, right? It wasn't like you were being forced to do anything, all of those horror stories weren't true. At least, not for you. Tengen never forced you to procreate with him, his wives were constantly reaching out to you, everyone was so kind... yet here you are, running for your life because you chose to run away. A foolish child you were. If you died right now, it would be your fault. No one else to blame.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried everything in your power to escape, to survive. What made you think this was a wise idea to run away, especially so late at night? You had no set of skills to protect yourself. You were raised to be a housewife, not wield a sword! You had no survival skills, only basic instincts. Of course you knew you had to do something to get away, yet all you could think about was to run and to hide.

And running and hiding could only get you so far.

You found yourself in the grip of a grotesque demon, ready to sink its sharp teeth into your flesh and rip you into pieces. To make you it's dinner. You were going to become another victim, another soul lost to the damned. You sobbed and begged for help as the multi-armed being gripped and felt nearly every inch of you, it's nasty slobbering echoing in your ears as it barred it's fangs. You shoved and kicked, thrashed and begged for a way out. Using your own teeth to bite down, it granted you a few moments of escape, reaching out for a sharp piece of metal scrap on the ground, stabbing it into the creatures eye.

The shriek it released made you cover your ears and hiss in pain. Loud ringing bounced within your head as you tried to get back up on your feet to escape, but it was too quick. It latched onto your ankle and tugged you back as you kicked and shoved at it. It pressed its weight against you, nearly suffocating you as it trapped you beneath it, sinking its razor sharp teeth into your neck as a gruesome scream left your mouth.

Kicking and slapping, trying to shove the demon off of you as your blood began to gush down your neck and pool beneath you, your vision began to blur. Your screams grew faint as your body fell weak. The moon was bright above you, no cloud to block it from your sight. It almost felt as if it were mocking you, reminding you of what you left behind; a home, a husband who wasn't trying to take advantage of you, and people who tried to reach out.

Why were you so inconsiderate? Why must you be so selfish? Look where you ended up! Bleeding to death by the teeth of a demon, ready to devour you and no one would know. No one would figure out what had happened and the demon would live to see another night. Another victim. Another soul taken.

You closed your eyes for a moment, begging, pleading to the universe, for one last chance. For freedom, freedom away from the hands of death.

You apologized for everything, for your selfishness, for being ungrateful. You quietly begged and begged and begged for a second chance. For a way out of this, even if it was just to apologize to Tengen and his wives, to thank them for their hospitality even if you kept yourself rudely locked away for so long.

Just one more chance. Just one more time to do things right. To live my life.

Opening your watery eyes once more, the sound of chains and the sight of the demons head being sliced right off of its neck came into view. Your heavy eyes blinked a few times, wondering if you imagined it. Before you could process it, you were lifted off the ground, away from the demon that turned into nothing but dust. The distant sound of your name being called had you weakly searching for its source as you slipped in and out of consciousness. The sight of Tengen's face, mouth uttering words, was all you saw before your world turned black.

The sound of nature was all you could process. Birds chirping as the wind rustled through tree leaves, hummed in the distance. Your body felt heavy, your eyes barely able to flutter open. This must be the afterlife. You must've died. As far as you could remember, you were bleeding to death at the hands of a demon.

Forcing your eyes open as you took in deep breaths, you felt blinded by the brightness, lifting a weak arm to cover the glare. Your eyes began to adjust as you blinked a few times before lowering you arm. Everything slowly came into view. A familiar ceiling sat above you before three recognizable faces peeked at you.

I'm alive?

A collective sigh was heard, relief washing over the faces of the women studying you before two of them stood up and rushed away. One stayed behind. Your vision was blurry, but you could make out who it was.

"Oh, we were so worried..." Hinatsuru said in a breathy tone as she placed a hand on her chest. "Especially Lord Tengen..."

Before you could even try to respond, the sound of the shoji sliding open and rapid footsteps caused you to turn your head. A large figure knelt beside you, uttering for the women around you to give him a moment alone with you. Your vision was still quite off, but the more you blinked, the more clear it became for you.

It was Tengen, the women that were once around you were clearly his other wives... and you were back in his home. Your home. Alive and bandaged up. How did you survive? You were sure you were going to die from blood loss if the demon didn't get to you. Slowly sitting up with a wince as Tengen carefully watched you, scooting closer as he kept an eye on your figure, you held your kimono closed as you gently touched your once wounded neck.

"Why did you run?" Was the first question he asked, even if he knew the answer.

"I didn't want to be a wife," you spoke, voice hoarse. "Never wanted to be another number... I wanted freedom for so long... I just wanted to feel alive..." You confessed as tears pricked your eyes, trickling down your cheeks slowly as you kept your gaze low.

Gently, Tengen's hand cupped your cheek as his thumb wiped away your tears. A gesture so innocent, making your heart flutter within your chest. Something you probably would've flinched away from, if it wasn't for this man seemed to have genuinely cared for you. "I'm sorry for what you've been put through."

Shaking your head, you muttered, "it's not your fault. It never was. You've been so kind to me... and so have your wives... I was selfish to run away and not appreciate what I had. Though it was a life I didn't want... it was better than being held in a marriage with someone who could care less if I died the next day..." Sighing, you turned your head to look at him. "I didn't want to just be a wife... I've never wanted that life."

A small smile grew on Tengen's lips, the sweetest you had ever seen on any man. His hand reached up to caress your hair, gently stroking your loose locks before falling back and settling on your cheek. "I will come up with a plan."

"What?" You gasped, caught off guard as you stared at him and his maroon eyes.

"I would never force you into something you don't want... but you are still my wife," he said as you blinked. "As my wife, I want you to be happy. Even if that means being away from me—"

"Lord—"

"Allow me to get to know you better and help you find your peace."

Gazing at him, you gave him a small nod. Little did you know the man you'd marry, would be one of the very few people you'd trust with your life.

You started a new routine with Tengen as the weeks passed since your encounter with that demon. Your husband would visit you daily, joining you on the veranda as you shared small talk, truly getting to know one another. It was nice, to say the least, and the man you married was very intriguing. He practically gave you his life story, you learned so much about him; his clan, and his time as a Hashira. He was impressive. Skilled, intelligent, and beyond kind. You couldn't help but admire him for the achievements he's made in his life—for a man only in his 20s.

On the other hand, you were still quite reserved. You broke out of your shell, little by little. As the two of you went on walks together around the estate, relaxing in the garden, you found yourself slowly opening up to him. With his wives, you were still quite timid, but you tried your best to be kind and acknowledge their sweet hello's and respectful bows—something they very much appreciated.

On one of your shared moments with Tengen, an evening after dinner you had with him, alone on your veranda, you told him how you'd love to travel the world. Tengen had never seen you look so hopeful, a dreamy expression written across your face. He couldn't deny you of your dream, instead, telling you he'd help you figure things out. No matter what it took.

A little over a month had passed and you were a different person. You smiled more and showed your face more often than not. Although still a bit antisocial and enjoying your alone time, you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy Tengen's company. Actually, you very much appreciated it. You liked having him around, so close to you. Someone you considered a dear friend, even if he was your husband. He was starting to take place in your heart, and the idea of you eventually making your way out in the world was a tad bit dreadful. Even if you knew he'd always welcome you home with open arms.

You were growing attached.

One day as you were sitting in the garden, piecing together a flower crown of sorts, Tengen offered you his golden plan: join you on your journey of freedom until you were ready to set off on your own. Whether it was a week or a month, he'd partake and make sure you could handle it. At first you were hesitant, not wanting to take him away from his other wives, but he insisted he'd do so (especially since he, too, was growing attached). He didn't want you discovering the world without any sort of self defense, either. Especially with demons lurking in the shadows.

After much thought, you agreed with subtle excitement. The two of you planned out your upcoming travels and how he'd train you. Even with a missing hand, Tengen was still a flawless fighter. He truly was impressive—you would soon learn as your self defense training was going to be a big part of your days to come.

"I will return in a few weeks," Tengen announced to his wives as he said his goodbyes. Hinatsuru always was the calmest, but Suma always took it the hardest—which lead Makio to scold her. It was nothing new to Tengen, but for you, it was quite the eye opener.

Before you were ready to begin your journey ahead, the three women handed you little parting gifts. They gave you tight, warm hugs, and words of encouragement. They begged for you to visit often and to not stay too far for long. You thanked them for their warm hearts and hospitality, forever grateful for their kindness.

Though this new chapter of your life may be terrifying, you were looking forward to starting it with Tengen by your side.

You were skilled. Beyond skilled. Tengen didn't expect you to be so... easy to train. It was as if it were in your bloodline to be so graceful. The moment he allowed you to practice with weapons, seeing how you were a natural, Tengen made a mental note—one he'd eventually use to recall information that your clan was in fact once fighters. One of the reasons why you were married off to the Uzui.

On one of your nights out before a fire, Tengen had informed you of what he knew about your clan's past. It caught you off guard, amazed it was in your bloodline even if it was practically a dead practice for your own family.... It was starting to make sense. When Tengen started explaining breathing techniques, and the many that existed—including his own that he had been teaching you—he wondered what your clan's once was.

Nights continued to pass, you stayed in various inns in separate rooms, and sometimes you stayed outside. When it came to outside, you usually rested against a tree as Tengen kept watch, but as time passed, you grew more comfortable with leaning against him—same went for the inns. You slept on separate futons, but within the same room. Tengen easily caught on to how you grew more confident in your relationship with him; standing and walking closer to him, becoming affectionate with simple touches and grazes of your hand. It made him happy—happier.

Especially when he started to realize how much he had been falling for you... Which made him wonder, were you starting to feel the same?

He tested the waters one day on your shared journey, surprising you with a small gift. You weren't sure how or when he had done it, but when he handed you a small box with a necklace in it, you were in awe... but what had you blushing was the fact that the jewel at the center was one of his very own that he once had attached to his headband during his Hashira days.

You denied it at first, saying he couldn't give it to you, but Tengen insisted he wanted you to carry a piece of him with you. He so kindly placed the necklace on you, his fingertips grazing your skin as you shivered, body growing hot. A subtle silence grew between the two of you when you turned around to show him it, and the look on his face made you flustered. Sure, Tengen was an attractive man, but after all this time of getting so close to him and becoming so attached... it was hard not to feel a change in the air that you two shared.

Ever since then, things haven't been the same. Not for the worst, but... it wasn't something you were accustomed to. You weren't used to this sort of attention nor the desire sitting within the pit of your stomach and the depths of your heart. It was an odd sensation, a feeling like no other. The way your heart raced when he looked at you, how your skin tingled whenever he touched you... the way your body reacted whenever he was closer than he should be. Sure, you were one of his wives and a lack of boundaries was expected, but it still had your whole being trembling.

If you knew any better, you would realize that you had fallen in love. Not with his looks (though he was a looker) but with him. His personality, his way of being, his (not so) simple existence in the universe. Every little thing he did, whether it was for you or for others. How he handled you when it came to little things like taking shelter from thunder storms or making sure you were comfortable when you had to rest. You were one of his wives, it was expected, but there was something there between you two that you were sure was unique to only you two. And Tengen felt it, too.

Probably why your final night was so painful, to the point you both drowned yourself in (what felt like) endless sake and the warmth of the hot springs. Neither of you wanted to think about your last moments together until... whenever you made a return. If you decided to at all. This was what you wanted, to see the world, to be free... but after growing so attached, so accustomed to Tengen's existence by your side, you knew it was going to feel off. As if you were imbalanced.

You were too deep in thought to even realize how close Tengen got as you sat in the soothing pool of steaming water. "I haven't had a night like this in forever..." he sighed, looking up at the stars.

Turning your flustered face in his direction, taking a moment to eye the stars above, your focus settled on him once again. Your eyes trailed his stunning features—gazing at his loose strands of ivory locks, those fucsia eyes... his sharp nose, the golden hoops on his earlobes... and those lips of his that settled in its usual grin. He was so handsome, it pained you to look at him. It didn't help that you two were sharing a bath and all you had separating you both was the water and the towels around your body.

Tengen's chest was on full display, something you had seen a number of times as he was very proud of his physique; he always found a way to show off his muscles—not like you had a reason to complain, anyway. He sat there, in all his glory, arms spread out beside him as he leaned his back against the pool's wall.

"It's lovely..." You spoke up, swallowing the small lump in your throat. You tried to look away, not wanting to stare for too long, but it was hard to... Tengen was just so handsome.

Lowering his focus from the dark sky that glittered with stars, towards you, Tengen watched as those innocent eyes of yours fluttered from his chest, to his eyes, down to his lips, then switched between the two. He couldn't help but grin. If you weren't making it so painfully obvious, he wouldn't have been there with you in that moment, sitting so close that he could almost feel your body heat instead of the warm water. "It is, but not as lovely as the view I have."

Flickering your eyes back up to meet his own, your heart skipped a beat as he so casually leaned in towards you and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. A subtle gasp left you before you looked away, flustered and trembling at his words, only for Tengen to gently keep your head in place.

"Rather cheesy, wasn't that?" He winked as your heart dropped down to your feet.

"Just— Just a tad bit..." you stuttered, eyes dancing between his own as he did the same to you. "But... But I like it..."

Smiling, Tengen leaned in a bit more, his nose just barely grazing your own as his voice came out smooth, almost a whisper. "Then, may I kiss you?"

Almost, as if without hesitation, you nodded. A breathy answer leaving you as you, yourself, grew closer to him, closing the gap between the two of you as his lips softly met your own.

It started off so gentle, the sweet taste of his lips against yours. A small press before you parted, taking in a small breath before Tengen's hand held the back of your neck, fingertips entangling themselves with the loose strands that escaped from your updo. With a small tug, your lips met his once again, except with a different desire. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, pushing past and pressing against your teeth. Your own parted, allowing him entrance to slip through. Gliding his tongue over yours ever so expertly, involuntary moans left you as you felt the muscle press and slither against your own.

Bringing you closer as his hand slid down to your lower back, you found yourself holding your towel closed while your other hand moved into his hair. Pressing against the back of his head and tugging gently, the two of you breathed each other in, panting and huffing in between kisses. You weren't sure what it was, maybe it was the sake... or maybe you just wanted this along. The gravitational pull you felt towards Tengen was something you never felt before, a tug unlike any other. It made your insides twist, your heart race, and a sudden warmth fill you.

Shifting his kisses away from your lips as you tried chasing after them, he left small pecks against the corner of your mouth. Your cheek and along your jaw, down your neck until he found that sweet spot that made you tremble. He nipped and sucked at your smooth skin, leaving marks in his wake as he left a trail of hickeys along your shoulder and chest.

Tengen moved dangerously low, open mouthed kisses against the swell of your breasts, up until the edge of your towel. Your grip tightened against the material as your other tugged at his locks, as if trying to pull him away, only for your back to curve towards him. You knew you should stop, even if the pool was private for the two of you, you had never done anything like this before. You were excited and nervous all the same, body so desperately desiring him after all those shared nights.

Lifting his head and looking up at you with hooded eyes as your blooded rushed in your body, Tengen kissed your cheek before guiding you out of the water and back to your shared room. He kept his arm wrapped around you as he had you pressed against his side, kissing your cheek and along your neck. Tengen didn't bother to close the shoji behind him, his body already finding yours as the two of you lied against the tatami mat. He hovered over you, his large frame enveloping your own as he sweetly smiled down at you, "beautiful..."

Blushing, you took in a sharp breath before he placed a gentle kiss against your lips. "You're so handsome..." You shyly mumbled as Tengen let out a small chuckle.

Lowering his head to nuzzle your neck, he pressed small kisses before lifting his head once again, "do you want to continue this?"

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded before cupping his cheeks, "yes... I trust you. You— You are my husband after all."

Eyeing you, seeing the sureness in your eyes even if you were trembling, Tengen kissed you once more before he sat up. With you settled between his knees as he leaned onto his heels, he reached for your towel. Eyeing you as you nodded he slid back before pulling open your towel, revealing your bare body. Naturally, you went to cover yourself, but Tengen caught one of your hands. "It's alright," he softly spoke, kissing your knuckles one at a time. "My beautiful wife..."

Lowering your hand, Tengen leaned down towards you, kissing down your neck ever so slowly. Then he kissed from one shoulder to the other, against either of your breasts, the valley between them, and along your stomach. He kissed your hip bones before licking a stripe up the side of your body, stopping at your right breast. Lifting his eyes to meet your own as you shivered, Tengen twirled his tongue around your nipple before bringing it into his mouth. A squeak left your parted lips as your chest quickly rose and fell. With every suck and nip, Tengen gave both of your breasts equal attention, leaving a trail of his saliva behind, a string connecting your left nipple to his lips as he lifted his head.

The smile he wore made your heart race faster, a look of ecstasy written across his face... you could only imagine what his expression would be once he—

A yelp left you as his mouth was against your bare pussy, too lost in your hazed mind to even notice when he had moved down. Tengen pressed a kiss against your lower lips before his tongue parted your folds, a shiver running down your spine as it met your clit. "What I'd give to have both hands now."

"T—" before you could whine, his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves before moving to tease your entrance. Your hands slid into his locks as your legs wrapped over his shoulders. Burying his face deeper against your aching cunt, you felt the way Tengen's open mouth began to devour you, tasting every bit you had to offer. The sweetness of your dripping heat that made him moan with anticipation as his hips bucked.

Feeling his tongue prod your entrance as a whimper left you, Tengen's arms wrapped around your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled your leg further apart. Lapping up your excitement, teasing your clit, pushing past your entrance and devouring your sinful sounds. Your panting filled the air, your eyes nearly rolled back as your head fell towards the mat beneath you.

He couldn't get enough of you; he couldn't get enough of the sounds you made, how your thighs pressed against his head and your cunt dripped for him. "Have you ever come before?"

Gulping, you shook your head, face burning in embarrassment. "N— No..."

Lifting his head enough, Tengen kissed your inner thigh, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, my sweet wife. It only means I'm lucky enough to be there with you to experience it—to be the reason."

Opening your teary eyes as you looked at him, Tengen gave you a reassuring smile before you felt one of his fingers tease your entrance before slowly filling you. Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching as he pumped his finger a few times before adding another. His lips latched against your clit as his fingers massaged your inner walls, reaching depths within you that made your body shiver and shake. A feeling filled you, a burning unlike any other as your breathing grew rapid and moans became louder.

A white hot heat filled you, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers nearly yanked at his hair. You were shaking as you came, Tengen continuing his ministrations before pulling out and lifting his fingers covered in your essence. Sitting up and spreading them to show you the mess you made, Tengen brought his fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up your release before his lips met yours.

You winced at the foreign taste the moment his tongue made contact with your own, a slow, sultry kiss before he reached to remove his own towel. "You'll be alright," he muttered against your lips as he sat up, bringing your legs over his thighs. His hand caressed your thigh as you were still processing the euphoria you just experienced. "We'll do this slowly, okay?"

Gulping, your hooded eyes fluttered open as they trailed down his chest, towards his toned stomach, past the patch of white hair that lead to his hardened length. Your heart dropped at the sight, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened. "I— I... You— You are so big... I don't know if—"

"It's alright," he reassured, giving your thigh a small squeeze. "You'll be alright, like I said, we'll take things slow."

Nodding as your heart raced, Tengen brought his hand to his cock, giving it a few strokes, coating it with your juices before he aligned it with your opening. He could hear the way your breathing quickened, felt how your thighs pressed against him. He spoke softly, continuously reassuring you as he slowly filled you. With just the tip, your chest heaved and your hands tried clinging onto something, clawing at the mat beneath you.

Pushing in further and further, biting his tongue as his body burned, Tengen took in shallow breaths at your tightness. The way you squeezed him, how your cunt was sucking him in... The sounds of your shared, heavy breathing filled the air, soon followed by heavy moans and skin slapping the moment he thrusted into you. Whimpers and cries of his name left your lips as your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin before clawing at his back as he hunched over you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as he thrusted at a rhythmic pace.

"T— Tengen— Too— Too big!" You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the dangerous stretch. The discomfort was overpowered by your pleasure. You weren't sure how much of him filled you, but you were positive he wasn't even all the way in. "Too— Too—"

"It's okay, it's okay, my love... It's okay," he reassured, body breaking out into a sweat as his hips bucked against you, pushing deeper and deeper as you cried out. With each shift of his hips as he pulled out, your pussy sucked him right back in. "It's like we're... meant for... each other," he breathed, a hiss leaving his lips. He wanted to fuck you, fuck you deeply, fuck you until you couldn't walk... but he knew, he knew it was your first time. He knew this was your last moments together before you went your own way, and as much as he wanted to leave you with an everlasting memory of his cock imprinted on your cervix where no other man could possibly reach, Tengen stopped himself. He wanted you to never forget this moment, obviously so, but he also wanted it to be a moment you enjoyed as much as he did—especially for your first time.

Thrusting in and out of you, pushing deeper each time as you squirmed and cried, begging him to move faster—telling him he was too big—your body wrapped around his and kept him sheathed within you. You felt your second orgasm building within you as Tengen's fingers rubbed circles against your clit. Your breathing against his ear was almost enough to make him come then and there as you shook in your release. Your pussy fluttered against him as your body practically went into shock. You felt it from head to toe, your body tensing around him as a cry left your lips, his name coming out as a desperate moan.

Continuously thrusting his hips, ready to pull out, your legs wrapped tighter around him, keeping him deep within you as you milked him for all his worth. He weakly called your name, body shaking above your own as he nearly collapsed against you. "Sh— Shit..." Tengen grunted as he filled you with his seed, coming deep inside as you kept him close.

Your bodies were already drenched as it was, but the sweat practically made you stick to one another as his massive body flopped against your own. You could barely breathe as it was, but with his weight against you, you nearly suffocated... and yet it felt so nice. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't want to leave. You just wanted to stay like that, there with him, in that moment. A moment so intimate, one you didn't want to end; one that you once feared. Now it was something you knew you'd never forget.

Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip trembled. Your hands fell to your face as Tengen lifted his head to eye you. "Hey, did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

"N— No... It's not— It's not you..." you mumbled. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Hey..." he hushed you, kissing your tears away. "It's okay, it's okay... I'm sorry if you regret this—"

"No!" You shook your head. "Never! I— I... It's just, tomorrow we... we go our separate ways and— and I feel as if... I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked, eyeing you with the kindest smile. "You are my wife, are you not?"

Nodding your head with a pout, Tengen nuzzled your neck before leaving a sweet kiss against it. "I am..."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, all that matters to me is that you're happy... and that you enjoyed it..." he said, almost questioning whether or not you did.

"I did," you softly smiled. "I'm happy to have had my first time with you... I've never trusted anyone more..."

Grinning, Tengen shook his head, "I'm sorry for the man who follows after me. Whoever wins your heart will never be like me."

"Tengen..." You whined, only to earn a chuckle from him. "I won't forget any of this, that's for sure."

"I'm glad," he smiled, gazing down at you, "because neither will I..."

Eyeing him as a silence filled the room, you reached up and caressed his forehead, ran your fingers through his hair, and cupped his cheek, "thank you."

Turning to kiss your palm, Tengen mumbled against it, "thank you."

"You'll always have a home with me," Tengen said as he stood in front of you, caressing your cheek as you leaned your head into his palm. "I can't say I won't miss you, because I know I'll be missing you dearly. We've grown so close... but I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to be happy, to find yourself, to live your life... But I hope some day, maybe you'll... come back to me..."

Smiling up at him, you nodded. "You've done so much for me, I don't think I could stay away from you forever. I appreciate you... and you have my endless gratitude."

Eyeing you, he sighed before leaning his forehead against yours, "if you ever have regrets... if you ever want to come back home... don't hesitate to reach out. I'll always welcome you back with open arms."

Sighing as you took a moment to enjoy his close proximity, you gently pushed back and cupped his face. "Thank you."

Eyeing you, Tengen gently kissed you before he stood straight. "I have one more thing to give you..."

Watching him with furrowed brows, he handed you one of his blades; the chain snatched and now dangling from the one he held towards you. "You— You can't."

"Please, have it. It'll only give me piece of mind knowing you have something to protect you... And also a way to never forget me... A way to eventually come back to me..." he said, handing it over. Tengen's swords weren't easy to hold, made for a man his size, but with one less attached... it was a bit easier to manage.

"It's... big..." You said, earning a chuckle from him.

"You can manage with big things," he winked as you blushed. "I have no doubts."

Sighing, you moved to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight for a moment or two, breathing him in one last time. "Thank you..."

Hugging you back, Tengen kissed the top of your head before you pulled away and turned to part from him. Just before you could get too far, Tengen caught your wrist and tugged you back to him, planting a deep, sentimental kiss against your lips. An ever lasting one filled with sadness. He let go, forcing himself to peel away from you as he slowly let go of your wrist, studying you and every bit of your face once more. "I'll always love you... you'll always be my wife and will always have a place in my heart."

Smiling up at him with tearful eyes, you gulped, "I— I will always love you." Not wanting to stay any longer as you knew you'd break easily if you looked at him for a second more, you turned and began your trek.

Tengen watched with a heavy heart, waving as you turned for a moment to say your final goodbye. There was in ache in his chest, a sadness filling him. You left a mark on him, a big one at that. You would never be forgotten. As much as he loved and adored all of his wives... there was something about you that made his chest feel different. A love unlike any other. Something he feels as if he couldn't have... But he prayed. He prayed that some day... your paths would meet again.

* FIVE YEARS LATER *

"Tenchi!" A voice called out amongst the many. Tengen found himself at a local market during his travels, visiting his beloved disciples, before returning home. "Tenchi!"

"I'm right here, mama!" A gentle, little voice came out as Tengen's focus shifted from the fresh produce before him, over to a small boy. "Look what I found!" Softly smiling at the sight of the youngling—easily 5 years old—hold up something with excitement, Tengen's eyebrows narrowed for a moment.

That's oddly similar... He thought as his attention was settled on the whiteness of the small boy's hair that had a headband wrapped around it. "Okay, but only one, alright? And don't run off like that again, you had me worried..."

"Sorry, mama..."

"It's okay, baby."

Snapping out of his daze, Tengen watched as the little boy hugged the kneeling figure before him. He couldn't quite see who it was from the passing bodies, but as the woman stood up, the retired Hashira's heart skipped a beat. "It's..." his breath hitched as his eyes made contact.

It was you.

Blinking a few times at the sight, you sweetly smiled with a small wave, earning a bright one from him. Tengen didn't hesitate, he made a beeline for you, stopping and towering your figure as happiness filled his veins. "You... It's really you..." he nearly whispered. He hadn't seen you since you parted ways five years prior. It wasn't like you lost contact, you wrote him letters as he did the same to you every now and then. He was aware you were alive and well, as you were of him... but seeing you in the flesh? That was something else all together. Could he kiss you? Could he hug you? It'd been so long, he didn't know what his boundaries were.

Smiling up at him, you felt the small figure tug on you as they hid behind you. Your son shyly peeking out from behind as he eyed the giant man standing before you. "It's me," you nodded, heart fluttering as you took Tengen in. How he hardly changed, still as flashy as ever. His hair had grown more, but it was clearly being maintained with the layers being trimmed. His eyepatch still bedazzled, his nails still painted... You couldn't expect anything less, this was Tengen Uzui after all— the supposed god of festivals. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Gotta live a flashy life, keeps me young," he winked as you chuckled. He reached for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he pressed a kiss. He didn't miss the blush on your cheeks or the way your eyes had slightly widened. There was no doubt in his mind that you were saving face, your reaction seemed composed. "It's really good to see you. How have you been?"

"Yeah... I'm good. We're good," you nodded as you moved slightly to present the little boy that clung to you. Tengen's eyes lowered to the white haired boy, instantly recognizing those eyes... His heart skipped a beat the moment he recognized those features... "This is my son, Tenchi."

"Son?" He nearly choked, catching himself as he kept his own composure. Of course this was your son, he should've put two and two together. But not once have you mentioned it before in your letters... And who else could possibly be the father if—

"Yes," you slightly smiled. "Honey, say hi."

Looking up, Tenchi clung to you as his grip tightened around you. He watched as the large man moved down to kneel. "Hello..."

"Hi, Tenchi," Tengen smiled. "I'm Tengen Uzui. The flashiest man on the entire planet. And a great friend of your mothers," he proudly stated as you blushed. A small gasp left little Tenchi.

"I know your name!" He exclaimed as Tengen lifted his brows before smirking.

"Oh? Is that so?" The man asked.

"You are mama's hero! Her trainer and gave her that big sword!" The little boy gasped. "You are so cool! Mama told me so many stories! I want to be just like you, Mr. Uzui!"

Gulping as the sudden urge to tear up awakened within him, Tengen took in a sharp breath and smiled. It wasn't until then when he had the little boy now standing before him that he studied those eyes. Eyes that reflected his own... The same ivory locks, those bright eyes and that shiny grin. There was no denying it... "That's an honor, Tenchi. And I like your headband," Tengen grinned, lightly poking the little boy's forehead as you watched their interaction with a heavy heart.

"Oh!" Your son blushed. "Just like you! Mama said you wore a headband when you were a— a Hash— Hash..."

"Hashira," Tengen finished with a kind smile as the little boy nodded.

"Yes! I wanna be just like you! Protect my mama from all evil!" He proudly said with his little fists on his hips. Tengen couldn't help but let out a choked laugh, as if the realizations made had his heart aching. This little boy was much too like him. "I look up to you!"

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Tengen looked away for a moment before ruffling Tenchi's hair. "I think you'll be better than I could ever be," he said without an inkling of doubt in his words, then looking at you as you looked at him with woeful eyes. It was clear there was something weighing on you.

Placing a gentle hand on your son's head, caressing his shoulder length locks that were quite similar to Tengen's, you eyed said man with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come have dinner with us? There's a lot to catch up on."

With a racing heart, Tengen looked at you with a similar expression, optimism filling his chest. "I would love to."

#tengen uzui x reader #uzui x you #uzui x y/n #uzui smut #tengen x reader #tengen x y/n #uzui tengen #tengen smut #kimetsu tengen #harunovella writes;#uzui tengen x reader #uzui tengen x y/n #uzui tengen x you #uzui x reader

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writingmeraki · 11 months

Text

you're no good for me.

a min ho oneshot !

summary : five times you thought he didn't care and the one time he showed you he did.

( or five times you were oblivious to how much he truly cared and the one time he made it obvious. )

genre : angst ( a bit? ) fluff, comedy ( attempts )

pairing : minho x gn!reader, e2l, frenemies to lovers! idiots to lovers!

warnings : cussing, descriptions of blood,injuries and bruises, reader is pretty oblivious, mentions of underage drinking, kissing, kinda messy :/// ( lmk if i missed anything pls. )

author's note : i don't even know what to say tbh ? this is so much longer than I thought to the point where I think I may have rushed the ending lmfaoooooooo welp I hope u enjoy this still haha <3 sorry for the wait 🤕🤕🤕 ( my own lovers to enemies arc with this fic bcoz I overthought as usual ) let me know what you think !!! also anon pls the angst was less but like it was a v lighthearted fic from the beginning asdfgh- i still hope u like it 😔<3 also also i kinda have a little drabble as a continuation for this but I'll see if i wanna post it based on your feedback hehe so let me know! ( barely proofread <3 )

word count : 11.6K ( longest oneshot i've ever written omll )

based on this request !

THE FIRST TIME.

"Fuck why do I feel like someone just pounded my head with a hammer?!"

You groaned as you woke up from your sleep or rather lack of sleep. You'd only been able to get barely 2 hours of sleep when you'd gotten back from the party last night

A party that you didn't even want to go to but were emotionally blackmailed to and even worse it was fucking Minho's party.

Technically, it's his fault you're in this state of crankiness.

You were sitting up on your bed, hair in all directions as you nursed the headache you'd gotten. Lack of sleep really gave you the worst of headaches and it didn't help you'd drunk a little, not more than a few sips, but the after-effect was definitely there.

You hissed as your bare feet touched the cold floor before you finally found your fuzzy bunny slippers you'd gotten as a gift from Kitty.

You dragged yourself out of your room, now being able to make out people talking on the other side.

"Well look who we have here looking like an absolute angel."

"Shut it Minho."

The retort came out like second nature as Minho smirked at your state despite the tiny concern that flashed across his face when he saw you holding your head as you sat on the floor between Kitty and Q who only shared a look when they definitely didn't miss that flash of concern.

You looked at Q, questioning "So why are we having a family meeting here?"

"We were just having a discussion about weird dreams." Kitty answered you and you looked at her, humming and suddenly a light bulb lit up from your only two alive braincells.

"You had a sex dream." Both Q and you said at the same time, him sitting up while a smirk just formed on your face.

"Was it about Dae?" Q asked holding his coffee in his hand. Kitty's eyes widened and shook her head immediately.

"So it wasn't about Dae, huh." You said as you wondered, your slightly swollen eyes blinking in thought.

"No! No I didn't say I had a sex dream." Kitty tried defending herself.

You lightly snorted, yawning a bit, "You didn't have to though."

"Exactly now spill." Q continued and you noticed movement from behind and saw Minho coming, with three mugs in his hand, handing one to Kitty and one to you.

He was oddly quiet and stiff, now wondering what made him like that because he'd definitely would have said something snarky by now.

"-dreams don't mean anything!" Kitty's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you sipped your coffee skeptically hoping it's not poisoined, but you hummed in satisfaction at the sweetness that contrasted the bitterness.

It was exactly how you liked it. Not too bitter like how people would usually drink it, you preferred it sweet because you had a huge sweet tooth.

Minho's gaze shifted towards you, recalling something as he swallowed nervously when he saw the small grin on your face.

"She's right! They don't mean anything." He suddenly looked towards Q who was already looking at him with his eyebrows raised, sipping his own cup.

Your eyes opened and you lazily looked at Minho, whose body language seemed even more stiff now.

"You could have a sex dream about someone you've repulsed your whole life." You looked in confusion at his words, one eyebrow raised.

Kitty agreed "Yes, yes exactly thank you Minho."

"He could have a sex dream about someone like…Y/N!"

You almost choked on your coffee before you spat out what was in your mouth, as Minho had a similar reaction.

"So you had a sex dream about Y/N." Q said as if it was the most obvious thing and you looked at him in horror.

"Hello?? Why are you talking about me as if I'm literally not here?" You were ignored as Minho quickly defended himself,

"No I didn't." He said, avoiding looking at you as you continued to stare at him with your eyes widened.

"And if I did have a sex dream about Y/N, it'd be a sex nightmare." You scoffed at his words while Kitty whispered Oh my God.

"Please, you'd be lucky to even have me in your dreams let alone real life." You spoke before you could think about it.

"So you still had sex?" Q piped up and Minho quickly blurted,

"Dreams don't mean anything! Besides I hate Y/N!" He said sparing a glance at you who just seemed confused at where this conversation had led up to.

"Wait a minute-"

"We're getting late! I still uh need to get ready!" Minho said turning around before you could even question anything, not being able to see how red his face had gotten as he ran to his room and slammed the door shut.

Blinking once and twice, you looked at Kitty and Q,

"So can someone just tell me what happened?"

They indeed didn't tell you anything, or rather didn't get a chance to before the door was knocked on and in came in your advisor, telling you about how you all had gotten Saturday detention and hoped last night was worth it.

You groaned as he left, holding the cup of coffee mumbling curse words. The same cup of coffee, that was exactly how you liked it, that was made by Minho. Something you didn't even realize how he knew your perfect order.

THE SECOND TIME.

You'd rather be watching paint dry than be in this boring detention.

Saturday flew in and in no time, were you already sitting in the library for your eight hour detention.

You groaned as you leaned forward, wanting to drop your head on the table before a hand placed itself between it and the hard surface of the table, making you hit it softly and for a second you thought about how warm it felt.

"You'll damage the tiny amount of brain cells you have in there." Minho's voice mocked you, as you looked up, your chin laying on his hand.

Glaring, you didn't even realise how he gulped at how you'd still maintain physical contact by not lifting your head up.

"Screw you." You scoffed, sitting straight up,

"Why am I even sitting with you?" You questioned crossing your arms and the scowl didn't leave your face.

"Maybe you finally realized how obsessed you are with me and felt like you had to be closer to me." He said with that annoying smirk plastered on his face.

You snorted, "Please it's only because it was the only seat available!"

The smirk didn't leave his face, only growing wider as he leaned in to whisper in your ear,

"All I'm hearing is excuses." His voice rang in your ears, noticing the rasp and how deep it sounded, swallowing nervously, you didn't know why you felt like your heart would jump out of your chest.

You leaned away from him, rolling your eyes, brushing away what you felt as irritation from being around Minho too much.

You shivered due to the temperature in the library being too low for your liking, the air conditioning being colder than you would have kept it.

You internally cussed at yourself for wearing a crop top instead of bringing an extra sweater with you,forgetting it's usually chilly in there.

Minho noticed the shiver, rolling his eyes, he suddenly began taking off his own bomber jacket. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but they relaxed when you felt a sudden warmth engulf you.

"You'll catch a cold and it'll end up infecting everyone." He scolded you before you could even say anything, words dying down before you could even question his actions, too stunned.

You just blinked at him, mumbling a small thanks to which he just sent you a curt nod, his attention back to the doodling he'd been doing in his book.

"Did he just-"

"Yes. Yeah he did."

Kitty questioned to which Yuri answered both stunned at what they'd just seen.

"Don't they, I don't know, hate each other?" Yuri asks, confused looking back at Kitty.

"Guess hate and love are two sides of the same coin, afterall huh?" Kitty spoke up.

They both paused and looked at each other, bursting out in giggles.

THE THIRD TIME.

You stared at the clock, your eyes fixated on the minute hand that moved agonizingly slow, your head resting on the palm of your chin that was using your right arm as a stand.

You sighed mumbling to yourself about how time seemed to be against you.

“Instead of boring your eyes into the clock, maybe if you paid attention to what was being taught, your tiny brain could finally excel in this.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your head towards the boy who sat beside you.

Pausing a bit when you realised how the sunlight from the window literally made it seem like he glowed, his cheekbones highlighted by it and his lips seemingly more plump and pinker as he spoke.

Minho’s attentions wasn’t on you though, at least it would seem like that because he was staring ahead, his focus on his notes as he wrote what was being taught, his hands splayed across his notebooks.

Even when he sat, you noticed he still seemed taller than you. Sometimes you even wonder how you always end up next to him.

“I’d say take a photo and it would last longer but I’m pretty sure you already have enough of those with you, stalker.” He said, taking a peak at you from the corner of his eyes, a smirk forming on his face when he saw you scoffing.

“As if, besides since when did you care about me paying attention or not.” Minho stopped for a second at your words, hand freezing mid way from his note taking and it was now his turn to roll his eyes at you.

“Because you’re a distraction.” He spoke lowly, making sure you were the only one who heard, and only now you noticed you’d both been murmuring amongst each other as if you were friends just gossiping.

Not wanting to argue more, you just sighed and looked ahead,

“Ugh, whatever.”

You looked down at your own notebook, narrowing your eyes when you saw you’d only written half a page and stealing a glance at Minho’s, your eyes now widening when you counted that he was already on what seemed like his third page.

Damn I really must have zoned out.

Now you just thought of your options, either you skip some pages and just write what was being taught at the moment, finishing what you missed afterwards.

Clicking your tongue, you just closed your notebook, slightly pushing it away. Knowing being at the way back in a crowded classroom was helpful at times like this but having Alex as your professor being another advantage, you folded your arms on the table and plopped your head onto it sideways.

You sighed, relieved at the position, even though it may seem uncomfortable, but at the time, it felt just right.

You shut your eyes, the last thing you saw being Mingo from the way you had positioned your head, with you facing towards him and let yourself be surrounded by the temporary darkness.

“So you’re just going to sleep during the lecture?”

“Yep.” You said still with your eyes closed.

“I barely got any, considering the Vampire Diaries marathon Kitty and I had last night.”

You mumbled, feeling yourself give in to your dreamland.

“You both are terrible roommates because who even has a series marathon in the middle of a school week?” Minho asked you scoffing, turning his head to his left so he could look down at you.

You opened one eye and put your tongue out childishly to mock him,

“Only the fun kind of roommates, now shut up and do your work, let me sleep.”

“You seriously need to be more responsible, I mean come on, you have dark circles right now.” He whisper yelled as he scanned your face.

“Okay mum. I’ll make sure of it.” You murmured to him, the last of your words being softer as you finally gave in to your dreams.

Minho sighed when he heard you exhale softly, seeing the way the sun reflected on your face.

He wondered how you could just fall asleep but then again he knew you’d probably stayed awake just to give company because he knew you didn’t even like The Vampire Diaries.

You’d once told how lame you found it that the only relevant plot was two brothers fighting for a girl, and how it was ridiculously stupid.

He moved his body a bit forward, so that the sunlight could not fall on your face, and upon that the scrunch in your brows relieved unconsciously. He reached his hand forward to tuck away the hair piece that seemed to bother you. His fingertips lingering on your cheek and you leaned into the touch unknowingly.

Pulling his hand away, he gently smiled at you, shaking his head fondly as he brought back his attention to what was being taught.

[ a few moments later ]

“Wake up sleeping beauty, it’s time.” You heard as you felt someone flick your forehead.

Groaning you swatted away the hand, as you slowly rose up, rubbing your eyes, and blinking a few times as you tried recalling who you were and where you were.

“Seems like someone’s nap time was well.” Minho smirked at you, packing his books away to which you turned to him and glared.

“Hope you dreamt of me well!” He said a grin on his face now as your lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah it’d be more of a nightmare if you showed up in my dreams.” You said rolling your eyes, and gathering your own notebook, realising it was pretty pointless to have even removed it today as you basically barely wrote anything.

You pulled your bag up to the desk and tucked away your book.

Minho slid a book towards you, making you pause your movements as you glanced at him in question.

“Here, today’s class work and homework as well, if you don’t get something, considering you probably won’t, come to the library after school is over.” He said standing up, to which you still looked between him and the book in question, skeptical of his sudden act of…kindness?

“Stop staring idiot, you’ll get late.” He said as he slowly walked away, you thought about it and grabbed his notebook, putting it in between your own and standing up, sliding one strap on your shoulder.

“Thank…you?” You said turning around noticing he was already gone.

Huh, weird. Well that was nice of him…for once.

You shook your head, walking out as well, realizing you indeed learn something new about him every time.

THE FOURTH TIME.

It was another outing of the nature club you'd join in support of Kitty's new venture of wanting to do new things.

Although initially, you'd reluctantly agreed but you'd learn to enjoy it once you spent more times with nature.

Though sometimes you wish you could just jump off the cliff because lo and behold, Minho had also spontaneously joined it as well.

Over time, you'd just learnt to ignore his shit, just paying attention to your surroundings and focusing all your energy on that.

You didn't even notice how he'd always be trailing beside you though, since the beginning of it actually.

But of course those around you did.

Q and Dae looked at their best friend, both wondering the same thing.

"Do you think he notices?" Dae asked as they hiked up, Q looked at him in question and followed his gaze, perceiving what he meant.

“He is still in denial as to why he even joined this club in the first place, remember how much I tried convincing him to join but he always refused with bullshit excuses but suddenly when Y/N joins, he’s apparently thought about it well and understood it was good to be one with nature, hence why he would be joining.”

Dae shook his head, chuckling as he recalled the denial on his face from when they confronted him about it.

“I don’t even think he realizes that Q, let alone how he always seems to be beside them when he gets the chance.” Dae said, staring at the pair of you, you seemed more than happy to be there as Minho skeptically walked beside you.

Suddenly an arm was placed in front of you, making you suddenly freeze in your place and your gaze followed it to the owner, confusion flooding your mind as you looked at Minho in question.

He moved in front of you and knelt down on one knee, to which your eyes widened and you looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this.

Hissing at him, more so in confusion, "What the hell are you doing?"

He scoffed and pointed down at your shoes, more so your shoe laces.

"You'll literally trip on them and fall on your face resulting in you getting hurt and you'll end up causing problems."

Once again, your mouth gaped at him as he went back to his task which was tying your shoelaces.

At times, he truly did confuse the ever living fuck out of you. Because for one he'd be doing the nicest things but then the gesture would be contradicting with what he would have to say afterwards.

You noticed how strands of his hair moved out of place as a result of him looking down to focus on tying your laces.

You bit your lip to control the smile from spreading on your face and he got up, dusting his hands.

"You know you should be grateful that I decided to be with you right now otherwise your clumsy ass would have probably broken a foot by now."

There it was. The contradicting words to his gestures.

Not wanting to start an argument, you just sighed and shook your head, mumbling a thanks as you walked ahead, having been left behind by a few paces.

Minho glared at you, taking a few steps to catch up with you,

"That was mean of you." He said and you took a side glance at him to see a frown on his face and you sighed once again,

"Thank you so much Minho, whatever would I have done if it weren't for your presence."

You grinned widely, blinking your eyes forcefully as you fluttered your eyelashes.

Before he could speak again, you turned forward and rolled your eyes, continuing your hike.

When you reached the top view, you could see the entire city of Seoul and just how mesmerizing it looked.

As a whole it looked breathtaking, the tall buildings and the miniature figures doing about their own things, the sky's colours contrasting the shades, the sun setting slowly as the last warmth of it bled on your face.

You didn't even notice Minho was right beside you, admiring the city view as well. Though his eyes naturally drifted towards you, even if he never wanted them to but it seemed like second nature to him now, his eyes finding you anytime you were around.

Your own sparked as you took in the little details of the view, unknowingly a smile forming on your face making the tiny depths form on your cheeks. Your hair slightly moving from the soft breeze and you'd laugh at the timing but you didn't notice that as you were too in your own world.

Blinking, he felt his own heart flutter as he whispered so tenderly, you probably wouldn't have heard him if he weren't next to you,

"Beautiful, you really are beautiful."

Looking beside you, you were once again left speechless when you saw who it was, and pretended you didn't hear, asking

"Sorry what was that?"

That seemed to snap him out of his gaze as he looked in front, coughing into his hand, sounding more fake than real,

"Uh, I meant that the view is really beautiful! Yeah the view…" He looked to the other side to make sure you wouldn't see the redness forming on his face.

You just nodded at him, turning your attention back in front of you,

"It is, isn't it? It was definitely worth the hike!"

You beamed as you put your hands on your hips, happy with the end result of the exhausting hike.

"Anyways we should be heading down now, if we were to reach before nightfall."

You paused looking around and found Q and Dae already looking at you both, you waved them over.

"Q! Dae! Why didn't I see both during the hike up?"

"Maybe cause someone wouldn't leave you and your attention was on him mostly." Q murmured to which, luckily you didn't seem to catch what he said as you raised an eyebrow.

Dae nudged Q with his elbow on his stomach, to which Q hissed in a little pain.

"That was so unnecessary!" Dae still kept his smile,

"What he meant was, you seem preoccupied but really we were trailing behind too." He told, his eyes shifting to Minho's for one second when he said preoccupied and you noticed this.

"Well let's all go together for the hike down?"

Minho wanted to protest but he realised it'd probably seem suspicious and knowing how his best friends were, they'd figure it and look into this more than he would like them too.

Plus he wasn't entirely sure why he detested the idea of not being able to be with you only for the hike down.

He hated your guts didn't he? He only just…taught you were too clumsy and stupid, as well as unserious.

At least that was what he kept convincing himself, yet it was far more obvious to everyone around you except yourselves that there was definitely more than just animosity.

And as you began going down the steps, you almost tripped as your leg got caught in a root but lucky for you, there was Minho by your other side, who'd pulled your arm to make sure you didn't fall right on your face.

"Seriously if it weren't for me, you'd probably end up dead by now."

His hand still on your arm, the contact making you feel warmer than you should and for a second your eyes drifted towards his lips as you thought about just how close you were to him.

You pulled away your arm and gulped, nodding at his words nonchalantly as you couldn't get the image of his lips out of your mind, as much as you hated it.

Q and Dae again, shared a look as if silently communicating,

Yep, there's more to this than just animosity.

THE FIFTH TIME.

Frowning at the big red F on your Korean Literature test, you felt like bursting into tears.

Really it wasn't your fault you were bad at adjusting to the language, after all it'd only been a few months since you were taught about it afresh.

Kitty sighed at your frowny face, texting your shared group chat about canceling today's movie night for the time being, your phone on silent since you'd gotten the test.

kitty loml 💗 : guys no movie night today, y/n's not feeling too well :((((

You didn't even notice it but Minho immediately texted in the group chat when he read the message.

minhoe 👹 : what happened????

dae my bae 🥳 : wow look who spawned in this "lame gc" 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

👑 : ohhh he's right tho but srsly what happened? are they alright???

kitty loml 💗 : Korean Lit happened 😶

👑 : Ohhhh yikes.

Kitty set aside her phone and looked back at you before you spoke,

"What am I doing wrong? I'm trying my best and it just seems pointless now." You feel tears of frustration forming as you yanked the paper away because it just seemed like the red mark was taunting you.

"Y/N, you know it's not your fault, Korean is really hard to learn afresh and see your Korean is way better than mine already!"

She tried cheering you up and you just shook your head.

"No Kitty, I've been learning this longer than you have and it's not even helping me at all if this is the end result!" You wiped harshly at the tears that poured out, your voice snapping at the end.

You sighed as you saw Kitty flinch, not in fear but more so in surprise because she didn't expect you to snap, yet she knew everyone had their own days.

Exhaling softy, you spoke "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I'll just…I'm going to take a shower to cool down."

Before she could reply, you turned away, walking to your room, before you slammed your door shut harsher than you wished.

👑 : how's the situation?

kitty loml 💗 : wellll they've gone to take a shower now, but they are pretty upset.

👑 : oh that's not great.

minhoe 👹 : wait guys, what flavour of Pocky was their favourite again? Cookies and cream or chocolate?

kitty loml 💗 : y r u asking this out of nowhere and I'm pretty sure it's just plain chocolate.

dae my bae 🥳 : oh wait didn't you read the previous messages? anyways it was a pretty long thing but in short Minho went to the grocery store to get some snacks for Y/N cause he's "sure" they haven't eaten yet because of how 'forgetful" they are

👑 : code for comfort snacks for an upset y/n to make them feel better because i care but won't admit it.

minhoe 👹 : gosh you all are do fuckinf annoying

kitty loml 💗 : and you are so fucking whipped

👑 : oop pretty sure i can see him blushing all the way from here

dae my bae 🥳 : he just cussed out loud and now we're getting glared at by some grandma, good going minHOE 👹

slayest of the slayers 🙏 : lol

👑 : OMGFJZJZ HIII HELLO R U OKAYY???

kitty loml 💗 : i thought the giggles were me going insane but it was you okay.

slayest of the slayers 🙏 : one way to say i live in ur mind 😈😈 and yes Q, i am fine for now at least, I'll figure out how to conqure this stupid subject somehow.

minhoe 👹 : plzzz it'd be like having a demon in ur head

👑 : YOU shouldn't say that when y/n is probably in ur mind all day and also feel free to message any of us for help when u need it!

You turned off your phone, laughing as you heard the notifications in your group chat blow up.

You'd gotten out of the shower, feeling way better than you had but still just choosing to lay in your bed when you noticed your notifications were piling up.

You giggled when you read through the chats, intervening and feeling your heart at ease when you thought about your friends worrying over you and checking up on you.

You were grateful to have found them, especially considering you were so new and awkward when you joined KISS, thinking you'd never make friends but now you could proudly say you loved them with all you had.

Though as you laid, gazing up at the celing lit up with lights from outside, you thought of one particular person whose actions nowadays made you more confused than anything.

It was Minho, of course.

Lately it seemed he'd taken a place in your mind, ironically having flashbacks to your conversation in the group chat about you occupying his mind but it was more of the opposite on your side.

At least that was what you thought.

You thought over every gesture of his, everytime he seemed to show he cared but then you recalled his harsh words those times and stepped back a bit from your fantasies.

He was too different anyways, a star out of your reach, a boundary you feared to cross, a line that was the more blatant.

So why did your heart feel heavier at the idea of him being out of league?

You gulped when you mentally weighed your options, closing your eyes and thinking of his annoying smirk but even more his annoyingly pretty smile that was rare but when you did see it, it did something to you that made you feel all fuzzy. His annoying hair that always had strands misplaced which you always itched the urged to tuck them back gently, his soft lips, his eyes-

A knock on your door woke you up and you got up putting your hand on your chest.

The pattering in it making it feel like you just ran a whole marathon.

You rose up and quietly walked to your door.

You think you almost puked your guts out of nervousness when you saw who was on the other end.

"You need to check on your messaging skills." You stayed frozen as Minho pushed you aside and entered your room as though he owned the place. It was like something he had that once he entered a room, it naturally became his place.

You noticed he had a bag of something in his hands and you remembered the texts in the group chats.

"Oh wait, did you really?" You asked pointing towards the bag,as he plopped down on your bed, looking at you while rolling his eyes.

"Of course, I know you'd probably starve yourself if you could, that's why I bought something for you." He said and you made your way towards him, a little skeptical and your nerves didn't seem to have calmed.

You sat down beside him, a bit of distance between you two yet you still felt a bit dizzy considering this was probably the first time he'd been in your room.

He pushed the bag towards you, looking at you expectantly.

"Here, it's mostly what you like, as far as I know." You looked through the assortment and indeed, it was like all of your favourites in one.

Your mind couldn't wrap around the fact that it was Minho out of everyone that remembered all your favorite snacks. A little detail but you found it fluttering when someone would remember the smallest things about you. Only this time it felt like your heart would jump out of your chest as you thought about this.

"Well, are you feeling better now?" You snapped your head towards him, nodding absentmindedly.

"Look. Since I am feeling nice, I'll help you out. I can tutor you between 5-7 every Wednesday and Friday at the library. I checked your schedule and saw you were also free those days-"

"Wait what? Where did you even get my schedule???" You genuinely asked confused trying to comprehend his words.

"Out of all that, that's what you want to know?" Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms "I saw it during the start of the year, to see which classes I'd have to tolerate you in and mentally prepare myself for."

"..." You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

"Oh…Kay?" You said more so questionably, wondering if you'd ever invest your time in someone like that, especially if it were someone you don't like.

He got up to leave, not wanting to embarrass himself more than he thought he did.

"Well uh…I am gonna go now, don't be late! Or I swear I'm never doing anything nice for your dumbass ever again!Don't forget to eat those, seriously I spent money and my precious time in those." He rushed to your door, turning back one last time to you.

"...Just…just next time, ask for help when you need it alright? And it's okay to not do well at times even if you do your best, sometimes it's not your fault." He looked at you expectantly to which you just nodded, still flabbergasted by his actions since he arrived.

He gave one last nod and turned around, slamming the door closed.

What the fuck just happened ?

You asked more so to yourself as you looked the bag in your hands, Minho's words ringing in your head, him offering to tutor you, actually telling you he'd be tutoring you.

Just him. Him and his…kind gestures?

You groaned, setting the bag down beside your bed and falling flat on your bed.

You stared at the ceiling looking for answers for questions you didn't even know about.

And suddenly a sentence rang through your mind.

Gasping loudly as you sat up, wide eyed as an epiphany hit you,

Fuck.

I think I like him.

I like Minho.

THAT ONE TIME.

As a normal person would when they come to be able to identify the confusion and chaos their mind was in and why they were in that state, you did one thing.

Avoid it and the cause of it.

In other words, as a way to deal with the realization of your liking, you decided to just avoid Minho at all costs, at least until it would come to bite you eventually.

You knew your friends noticed your behavior, how you'd basically changed routes and even certain classes, pouring excuses like you couldn't study during that time and it was better to change.

The new revelation caused a lot of changes in the way you saw of his actions. It definitely didn't help when you would recall at the times he'd done them late in the night and it would leave you with a hope that was only growing higher.

Only to come crashing down when you would think about how he might not even see you in the same way, maybe it was just as a friend.

Frenemies.

A term you learnt and as much as you felt like it certainly fit your dynamic, it still left a bitter afterthought that you hated because you knew you wanted more.

Much more.

As you sat down in a cafeteria in Seoul to study, yes you'd gone that far as to avoid studying at the campus just to avoid bumping into Minho.

And to your misfortune,Minho did notice though, how you didn't show up to the library for your planned study session that you'd confirmed but cancelled last minute, how you didn't even reply to messages in the group chat, excuses like you were busy with work and assignments.

He'd scoff when you pulled that excuse, as if you weren't in the same grade and didn't have the same workload. When he would ask Kitty or Q or anyone actually, they'd also have similar answers, not knowing where you were or you were locked in your room most of the time when Kitty would come to ask you for anything.

You felt guilty for avoiding your friends like that, even Minho didn't deserve that especially considering he'd even offered to help you.

With a sigh, you opened your books and tried to study at least until it was near time to go back to your dorms.

[ a few hours later ]

After a somewhat successful study session of you attempting to finish your Korea Lit assignment that'd been eating your brains quite literally as you felt a headache forming when you realized you didn't understand anything, you decided you had enough.

Groaning exhaustedly, you winded up your books and packed them, deciding it was time to just head back, frankly there'd been so much on your mind you were pretty sure that was probably one of the major reasons you didn't understand anything academic related.

Or you were just terrible at Korean Literature and really should have just stepped in your ego and crushed it when Minho offered to help you and gone to his tutoring lessons.

But noo you just had to have an epiphany that you really liked him, in a romantic way that same day he offered.

Deciding you deserved some kind of reward for tolerating and trying at least, you took a little detour to the grocery store that was along the way.

Purchasing a lychee moju moju along with some small snacks to eat, you quickly rushed to head back to campus before Kitty came back to your dorms from the library.

Memorizing her schedule so as to know when to avoid her became a part of your routine, a benefit was it was quite similar to the rest of them so you could also avoid them all at once. At least until you were ready.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice something in front of you until it was too late.

And when you took a step and a loud hiss followed that scared you so bad,you literally tripped on your own feet and fell straight to the hard concrete, face first.

Luckily you'd been able to divert your face sideways so to make sure there'd be less of an impact on your precious nose.

Now it was your turn to hiss as you groaned, rising on your hands to get up slowly.

The right side of your face was the one that had contact with the ground so it hurt like a fucking bitch when you tried to move.

As you rose up to your feet, you caressed the side of your injured face and winced when you felt something warm and wet.

Sighing exhaustedly when you indeed saw it was blood.

You're such a clumsy ass.

Words unknowingly flashed in your mind, words that a certain someone once told you and back then you were annoyed but now you felt that they really were right.

As much as it hurts your ego to admit that.

Suddenly you saw something small moving in the corner of your eye, the street being lit up only by street lights placed around five meters apart.

As you moved closer, you hoped this wasn't a grave mistake and you were not walking to your own death.

As you removed your phone from your left pocket to flash your flashlight because it had been in an area where the streetlight did not cover the range hence it was sort of dark.

You braced yourself for the worse,

Okay calm down, you can run for it and you'll save your—

Wait.

What?

You deadpanned once you saw what was hidden in the dark.

It was a cat.

A brown and black one and it was caressing its tail, hissing at you once you flashed your phone at it.

You connected the dots and sighed in relief, knowing it wasn't a murderer and it wasn't a trap; rather you had likely stepped on its tail when you didn't notice it in front of you due to its color being less visible in the dark spot.

A sense of guilt crept up on you when you thought about how you must have hurt it, even if it was unintentionally.

Deciding you'd help it, at least by giving it something to eat, you grabbed your grocery bag that sadly laid out splayed out.

Knowing you didn't have anything cat friendly to feed, you pointed at it as if talking to it.

"I'll be back! Stay here."

Turning around and making a second round trip to the grocery store, not even realizing it was nearing dangerously close to your curfew.

You didn't even notice the look of pure concern on the cashier's face, having forgotten your injuries both as a result of adrenaline basically numbing the pain and also you being in a hurry when you noted the time.

Surprisingly the cat was still in its spot, eyes closed and sitting with its head tilted who you knelt down to it.

You opened the can of tuna and your nose scrunched in disgust at the smell, but someone else was delighted as it leaned forward immediately.

Chuckling at the cat's eagerness, you placed it on the ground and it dived right in, devouring the tuna.

"You probably haven't eaten in a while huh?"

Gazing at the cat with sympathy and speaking as if the cat would understand you, you sighed sadly.

As one would when seeing a cat, you moved your hand to pet its head, but just as you were about to touch it, it decided you were the enemy.

Hissing at you, you didn't even get to avoid it when it swiped it's paw at your hand.

It wasn't too deep, but it definitely left a mark and oh it also definitely hurt, burned as well.

You pulled your hand, seeing the scratch mark deep enough to draw blood and once again groaned in pain.

The swipe was right on your fingers, moving across from your index to your pinky.

And it was beginning to bleed fast.

"Wow so you definitely aren't fond of physical affection." Wincing in pain as now it began to burn even more, you moved behind, pushing the can with your uninjured hand.

"Fine fine I'll leave you be." You told it gently, noticing it had retreated behind.

You got up while pressing your palm to the scratched fingers, making sure it wouldn't just began bleeding badly out of nowhere.

Shit I probably don't even have a first aid kit.

Today could not get any worse.

And you probably jinxed that as you looked the wristwatch in your left hand for the time.

8:45 pm

A whole twenty minutes passed curfew.

Fuck, you were so screwed now.

You facepalmed yourself only to almost scream in pain as you accidentally hit the right side of your injured forehead.

Great I probably look like I got beat up.

You began walking as fast as you could, your bag seeming heavier as you'd stuff everything including your grocery into it.

Please please please let the advisor not be there right now for checking.

As you reached the gates, you sighed in relief seeing they were still open but slowed down to see if there were any guards around.

It felt like you were suddenly thrown into a secret mission, one to avoid getting caught and possibly getting a suspension for being out so late.

Your wound had stopped bleeding profusely when you'd pulled the sleeve of your sweater over it, engulfing your hand completely.

It pained you to ruin that sweater but you could just buy a new one, hopefully.

Hiding behind a streetlight that was a few meters away from the gatez you scanned your surroundings ahead.

You could almost hear the James Bond theme music playing in your head.

You didn't spot any guards around and the gate was open, so you did the one thing only a true spy could possibly dare to do.

Make a run for it.

Ducking your head down and using the sleeve of your sweater to cover your face, you ran as fast as you could inside, trying to make as minimal noise as you could.

That was not the case when the grovel beneath crunched as you made a run for it and you cussed at yourself internally, praying no one was around.

Lucky for you, your dorm was nearer to the entrance and you felt like bursting out in tears of joy when you neared the building.

Running up the steps, you paid no mind to anyone around you.

"Wait, is anyone still out?! It's almost nine come on guys!"

Eyes widening when you realized you made a grave mistake assuming no one was in the hallways, you turned the opposite direction of your room as footsteps began nearing.

Shit, I need to hide.

Being in this crisis was possibly the worst rotten cherry on top of your nightmarish sundae.

Suddenly, you registered this wasn't your hallway, heck you'd entered the wrong building in a moment of stupidity.

This was the boys dorm building when you noticed the familiar numbers.

Wait a minute.

Your eyes scanned for a number you'd seen countless times by now as you slowly but quickly moved ahead. The footsteps had gotten slow and you knew Alex was in the other hallway, probably looking for who was around.

Grinning when the familiar number was on the door, you didn't think much and just knocked harshly.

"Q! It's Y/N, I'll explain everything but please I'll get caught if you don't open right now!"

Whispering harshly into the door in a panicky tone, you knocked rapidly making sure it wasn't too loud.

You were sure your heart almost dropped out of your chest when you heard the footsteps approaching your direction again.

Your hand dropped to your side as you looked in the direction of Alex heading and you didn't even realize the door had already opened.

You almost yelped so loudly when you felt a tug on your arm pulling you inside. The grip on your arm was strong enough to just drag you inside and you closed your eyes out of fear.

You were pinned behind the door, your back pressing into it as a large hand covered your hand to prevent the yelp out of your mouth. The person's other hand was on your waist to prevent you from falling straight to the ground.

You listened closely to the footsteps and sighed in temporary relief when they passed the dorm.

Only now did you grimace in pain,the hand on your mouth unknowingly hurting the injuries on your face,you reached your hand to tug it out of your face.

The person immediately backed away the moment you grimaced, it was so quick as if they'd been burnt by you. You almost fell over as you'd lean your entire weight on them.

"What the actual fuck happened to you?"

A familiar voice asked in both astonishment and even a hint of anger.

Your eyes were still shut, collecting yourself before you opened them as you relaxed briefly.

You had to blink twice when you noticed who was in front of you.

"Oh…it's you." You murmured, looking anywhere else but at Minho the moment you perceived it was him the whole time.

He scanned your entire face, obviously noticing the blood as well as the bruise, as his eyes lowered, he also saw the blood on your sweater sleeve, your hand now free and the visible marks bleeding once again from being exposed to sudden movement.

When he first heard you, he'd been laying on the couch scrolling on his phone, bored because Q had chosen to spend the night at Florian's, having the place to himself for tonight.

He swore he felt his heart drop when he heard you panicking tone on the other side and didn't even care if it was the first time he'd seen in two weeks of nothing, he pulled you in and when he heard you almost yell, he just placed his palm to shut you up as he heard the footsteps pass by.

He didn't mean to scare you but at the moment, all he could really think about was who even or what even happened to you.

"Who did this to you?" His tone seemed aggressive as he questioned in a deeper voice than usual. Well usual was also deep but it was something you got used to.

You'd become frozen the moment he spoke, not knowing what to say, a little embarrassed at how you ended up in this situation. He stepped forward, straightening up instinctively in alarm.

His eyebrows furrowed in question as he pushed his tongue to the side, lowering his head to your level, now near eye level with you, your eyes following his every movement.

You tried not to flinch too harshly when he grazed his fingertips on your cheek and lip, where you'd gotten hurt as well as the place near you eye and eyebrow.

"Uh, so like you see, it looks worse than what actually happened so really it isn't too big of a deal—"

Stepping back a bit, he looked at you ridiculously

"Not too big of a deal ?!" He questioned as if daring you to say it again,

"You must be kidding me right now." He laughed humorlessly as he ran his hand through his hair and you tried not to stare like an idiot.

And as cliche as it could be getting, you felt light headed as you tried to keep your balance. Blinking harshly to keep your eyes open, you almost fell forward when you took a step but this time Minho was able to catch you in time.

"Hey, hey, don't faint on me right now okay? Let's just get you seated first."

You leaned your weight on him as he held you with one arm, he'd move beside you to make you comfortable as he slowly walked you to the couch. Before he laid you down, he removed your bag from your shoulders and put it aside, to make sure you'd be able to lay more properly.

You sighed in both relief and exhaustion when you finally sat down.

"Wait I'll be back."

He recalled the first aid kit he had in his drawer and went to get it as soon as he could.

You shut your eyes, tiredness overwhelming you, not only from the adrenaline high getting over but also from the mental exhaustion that'd you'd been having since the whole mess.

You opened your eyes when you felt a weight beside you, Minho sitting down with a first aid kit in his hand.

He opened it to remove a bottle of hydrogen peroxide that made you scrunch your nose a little in disgust at the color and some cotton pads, band-aids, and a roll of bandage.

You noticed they were hello kitty ones, the same ones you used and that thought made you smile even for a brief moment.

"You really got this ones too?" You asked softly and Minho turned to look at you, looking at the band aids in awe and snorted at your expression.

"You are here, almost on the verge of passing out but you are questioning whether I have the same hello kitty band aids you have? And to answer your question, yes."

"Gotta keep those priorities in check."

He rolled his eyes as he soaked the cotton pad with the hydrogen peroxide, the familiar deep brown color showing.

He gently took your hand and began to clean the wound.

Hissing loudly, you sat more straight about to pull away but he still kept the grip on your arm.

"It's okay, it'll hurt a bit, just hold on for a sec." Minho gently said to you as he focused on cleaning it, laying your hand on your lap and taking another cotton pad when the current one got used enough.

As much as you wanted to cuss out loud, you decided to put your focus elsewhere, choosing his face was the perfect place for that.

His eyes were as soft as his touch, you didn't think he'd be this gentle with you but here you were, him tending to your wounds, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his jaw was unknowingly clenched in the same focus.

"Sorry." You blurted out of nowhere, the guilt from everything piling up one by one, from the fact that you'd been ignoring him for two weeks only to show up after and him having to tend to your injuries when he could have just kicked you out.

He briefly made eye contact with you, wiping the now cleaner cuts with a dry cotton pad, and opening the kit again to remove a tube of antibiotic ointment.

The coolness of the ointment made you almost breath out of relief but you were still tense because Minho hadn't said anything yet.

"I get that you must be…angry with me. It's reasonable but I have my own reasons, I think they are pretty valid if you want to hear them out?"

You finished, your throat closing up afterwards and you felt like you'd pass out from how fast your heart began beating.

"How did you get injured like this? First, tell me that." He finally spoke, wrapping a sterile white bandage around your fingers after the ointment.

He carefully finished wrapping and tied a knot, making sure it wasn't too tight as he looked at you questionably, to which you shook your head.

"It's stupid. Really."

"I know you're stupid but—"

"I fell." You let the cat out of the bag and diverted your gaze, his movements pausing to process your words as if he heard wrong.

"Don't lie to me. Did someone bully you and beat you up—"

"I was coming to the dorms from my "study" session at the cafe that's like twenty minutes away from here, when I went to the grocery store for…stuff. And after I got what I needed, I was heading here and I was uh…preoccupied with something that I didn't see what was infront of me, so I stepped on it and then I tripped on my own feet and next thing I know my face was kissing the ground, then when—"

"You're telling me this was all because of your clu—"

"LET ME FINISH!"

Minho shut up after that and pressed his lips into a thin line while you continued,

"As I was saying, I couldn't see what it was and it already hid in the dark when I flashed my phone's light, I saw it was a cat and then I felt bad for stepping on its tail, I went back and got some tuna for it at the store, I gave it to her but I think she was still upset so when I went to pet her, she scratched my fingers, which is why my hand is also injured."

"And oh, I ended up here by accident because I entered your dorm building while I was making a run for it and realized it too late, I didn't want to get caught so I thought of just asking whether I could hide in your dorm until the advisors stopped their rounds."

You breathed out heavily, your chest hurting from the lack of oxygen for saying all that in one go but you didn't want to embarrass yourself by thinking too much about it and just wanted to let it all out in go.

You moved your gaze back to Minho's when you noticed how quiet he'd gotten afterwards, having been looking somewhere else when telling how you got in this situation.

Narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, he averted his gaze elsewhere while you scanned his expression.

"You can laugh if you want to." Sighing you finally said and that seemed to work as Minho laughed at you.

You deadpanned him as he spoke in between his laughing "You are really the biggest klutz I have known, I mean all this all because of a cat?!"

Rolling your eyes, you lightly frowned and Minho noticing this, began calming down,

"Okay, Okay I won't laugh, I'm sorry." He breathed out as he cleared his throat and looked at you, biting his bottom lip to stop the giggles as he saw your expressions.

"Are we done here? I have to go back to my room too—"

"I haven't even treated your face yet!"

Now it was your turn to shut up and you slightly pouted at his scolding tone,

"As hilarious as your little story is…you need to be more careful. Like this is kinda crazy to get hurt like this by just falling."

"Okay, mum got it." You mocked him and he glared at you, pressing the soaked cotton pad onto your cheek out of nowhere.

"YOU BITCH! WARN SOMEONE NEXT TIME—"

"You should have already known—"

"You KNOW WHAT FUCK YO—"

He ignored you as he continued to clean up your wound, your words being replaced with quite literally having to bite your tongue to control the hisses of pain.

"Now, now please shut up and stay still."

You wanted to cuss at him again, claiming this was abuse but the look on his face challenged you to dare to pipe up again.

Instead, you just sighed in exhaustion, letting him finish his unnecessary kind act that was again questionable if it were out of his supposed kindness or convenience.

"Now there, all done." He placed the final hello kitty band-aid on your lip corner gently and you wished you could smile but that felt like a terrible idea as you remembered that even lifting up the corner of your right side made a sharp pain shoot up your lip.

"Thank you…I guess." You murmured softly to which a smug smile formed on his face,

"I didn't hear you, could you please repeat that for me?" He pretended to be in thought of what you said when he clearly heard you due to your proximity.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and swallowing down the bitter taste on your tongue, having to put your ego down a little at this point.

"I said."

"Thank you for this. Thank you for…helping me. Even when you didn't need to."

Even if you couldn't see it because you'd been looking elsewhere but him, he had a tiny smile on his face as he watched you.

"Anytime clumsy idiot, if it weren't me to handle your clumsy ass, then who?"

It was probably meant as a joke, maybe a taunt even but your heart took it in a different way as you felt the familiar butterflies flutter.

"Minho seriously stop it, you shouldn't just say things like that."

He'd begun winding up the first aid kit and the extra stuff that was there, when he heard you say that under your breath, which made him stop his task.

"Things like what?" He faced you now, his body in your direction as you froze up.

"Oh you know what I mean…stuff that can be taken into….a different context by…people." You awkwardly said, trying to dodge your way out of what you actually meant.

"Do enlightenment me, you know about the context of this." He leaned in closer to you, a smirk forming on his face and you frowned, gulping thinking of what to say next.

"Uhm…well." Biting your lip in thought, the floor seemed like a better place to focus at.

Minho's eyes softened at that, deciding he'd rather not tease you more.

"You know, I still don't get why you have been ignoring me for two weeks. Actually, everyone for two weeks." He blurted out what he really wanted to ask since he'd been able to talk to you properly after this long.

"At first, I thought that maybe you were busy but after the first 4-5 days, I figured you'd been purposefully avoiding me." He said as he looked down and you could feel the guilt creeping up all over again.

"Look. What is something I did?" He asked you with a tone of regret looking at you to see if your expression would reveal anything and as you held eye contact, what made you snap was the sincerity in them.

"No! No, it's not you…well, it is about you but not because of you? It's me though! I am the problem here." Staring at him got too much so you just decided to stand up and avoid looking at him when you spoke. The proximity was also getting to your head and the musky yet expensive smell he wore was suddenly so strong it made you dizzy.

You began racing back and forth in that small space, as you thought of how to explain and you didn't even grasp you'd been rambling the whole time, your hands moving in gestures as actions to your words.

"I sort of just noticed something about me and it got a lot since I never really felt like that way and it's crazy because it is also unexpected—"

Minho stood up and stood in front of you, holding you by your shoulders, genuine concern on his face when he scanned your distressed look.

"Okay calm down, if you don't feel comfortable explaining anything right now, you can just rest and you can tell when you do feel like it."

"No."

He raised an eyebrow at your answer and you continued,

"I think… I want to say it."

He dropped his hands from your shoulders, letting them rest by his sides as you looked into his eyes.

For that moment, you just now perceived how close you were to him, taking in how handsome he truly was, you never admitted it but it was very obvious.

Your eyes momentarily paused on his lips, maybe looking at them for longer than one should and before you could trail your gaze lower to the dip of his throat in his hoodie, you paused at his Adam's apple that bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

Even though he'd been the one who got close to you like this, Minho still felt a little nervous when you looked up at him like the way you were right now.

"Turn around." You ordered before you could even think about it and confusion flooded his face.

"I won't be able to say it while looking at you so please."

Pausing for a brief second, he turned on his heel now facing the greenish bluish wall.

"You know if you want to confess to a murder, you don't need to be afraid, I'll help you hide—"

"I think I'm in love with you." You exclaimed, ignoring his words as you stared at the back of his head.

He was not that taller than you, just by a few inches or so but it was just the right height.

Immediately, you noticed him shut up and tense up as his shoulders straightened.

"I personally never thought it'd be you out of all people but fuck, it's not like your heart lets you decide who you should fall in love with." You tugged at the uninjured hand's sleeve while you used your other to brush your hair behind your ear.

"As cheesy as that sounds. I don't know when it happened or how it happened but I do know when I knew. It was when you bought food for me when I was upset and it was everything I liked. Or maybe it was when despite being cold yourself, you'd offered me your sweater and gosh you just know how to pull at one's strings don't you?"

"I'll admit though, I was annoyed by you and your…attitude and I still will be but it's just that, crazily enough I think that's just one of the reasons I fell for you."

"You're many things Minho, stupid, annoying as fuck, bitchy at times as well, but you're also sweet and caring when you want to be. And now I am just rambling at this point so I'll just shut up."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, the ground a great place to put your attention, your cheeks warming up and you swore you felt like you'd faint then and there.

It was like the atmosphere took a change after your confession and momentary rant. A lingering silence that felt loud and you really didn't know what to think.

Can I die at this moment right now? Dropping dead sounds so tempting.

"..."

"...can I uh…turn around now? To you know…talk?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously your eyes snapped to him, widening when you recalled that he was still facing the wall.

Groaning at the fact that you forgot he was not facing you, you coughed out awkwardly,

"Yeah! Of course…you can."

You held your breath as you waited for him to turn around, and when he did, you couldn’t even look at him.

Minho honestly didn’t know what to think, say or do.

Because what can you say after the person you’ve been pining over since the past few months suddenly confessed their apparently reciprocated love to you?

He thought he’d been doing a decent job hiding his feelings so he doesn’t need to face the brutal rejection fear we all get when we have a crush on our supposed ‘enemy’. But it got harder for him as time went by, and soon enough he found himself completely head over heels for you.

Taking his obvious silence as your answer, your heart grew heavier at the lack of response and you spoke up, breaking the blanket of quietness.

“I suppose you don’t feel the same way so I should probably just go anyways it’s getting late, just…forget I said anything-”

You began to slowly take a few steps back, making sure you wouldn’t fall and injure yourself again,

Minho’s head sharply turned towards you as his eyes widened in alarm, “Wait! You didn’t even let me say anything!”

Pausing in your steps before you could swiftly turn for the door and exit as quick as you could, now a sheepish look on your face as you saw his slightly annoyed and alarmed look.

“Well, I just assumed your silence was an answer?”

He crossed his arms now a few feet away from you as he was already making his way towards you.

“There you go again with you and your assumptions! You really should let someone speak at least.” He sighed rubbing the gap between his brows with his index finger.

He moved closer to you, now only an arm's length away from you, “Look at me, please?”

You had to raise your head a little to look him in the eyes and you felt like you could get lost in them, one hand was on your side, clenched in a fist out of nervousness.

“Who said I didn’t feel the same?” He asked so casually as if asking for your name and you could only gape at him at the implications.

“Because I definitely know that,” He gulped as he looked down at you, feeling like his heart might just jump out of his chest at what he was about to say.

“I am in love with you, maybe a little or by a whole lot. A whole lot I swear I can feel my heart jump just at your presence. I didn’t say anything because honestly, I thought this was another dream I was having, I had to pinch myself to make sure. But I do feel the same, possibly more than you ever will.”

Your jaw might as well have been on the floor at his unexpected confession, frankly, yours was also something you didn’t think you were going to say, but you said it because you couldn’t keep it in you anymore.

“Hold on, what do you mean by another dream?” You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, deciding to mess around with him but in reality, you were soaring and your heart probably long leaped out of you in pure euphoria.

“Out of all that, you picked up on only that?!? Did you just- just completely dismiss the fact that I am in love with you as well?!”

Giggling at his expression, you couldn’t contain your happiness as he fell for your joke and once he realised that he glared at you half-heartedly,

“You think you’re so funny huh? Do you even know how hard it was for me to say that? I almost fainted for fucks sake!”

You laughed even more at that, having to hold your stomach with one hand as you leaned forward and at the sound of your laughter, his own smile he’d been trying to control showed as he rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head.

“You seriously know how to make a guy have a heart attack.”

At this, you looked up at him stepping even closer as you bopped his nose,

“But you literally just confessed to being in love with me and you can’t take back what you said now.”

A comical squeak arose from you as he wrapped his arms around your waist out of nowhere pulling you closer, gently moving your injured hand on his shoulder to make sure you didn’t get hurt and you moved your other one around his neck.

It wasn’t like he’d never touched you, but still, the spark of electricity shooting through your entire body didn’t change one bit and it felt the same for him as the warmth radiating from you seemed to engulf him as well.

Staring at him, your eyes trailed to his lips and you moved closer, wanting to just,

Before you could even close the distance, you felt a finger on your lips and heard him whisper to you,

“No, no, you can’t kiss me right now, as much as I want to, you first need to let this heal.” He tenderly poked the right corner of your lip where you’d forgotten you were hurt at the moment.

Pouting slightly at that, Minho chuckled and before you could whine, he swiftly leaned forward and pecked your lips, lingering for a second before pulling back,

“That’s all you get, for now.” Sighing you just nodded, knowing it was for the best.

“You know you still have to make up to me for ignoring me for two weeks, I mean not only me but I’m sure Kitty’s ready to kick your ass as well, I heard she was planning to threaten to burn your giraffe socks if you didn’t talk to her.”

Suddenly a realisation hit you when you remembered something,

“IS THAT WHY I CAN’T FIND THEM SINCE THE PAST TWO DAYS?!?”

“...I suppose she’s already executed her plan.”

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

links : main navigation !

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 12 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, allusion to smut, contractions, water breaking, labor and delivery, and Eddie wasn't there, epidural, medical emergency, lots of fluff

WC: 4.3k

A/N: I could not have written this piece without @the-unforgivenn 💚 everything accurate in this fic is because of her, and everything inaccurate is because of me. I love you, Annie. Thank you for asking my random birth-related questions at all hours.

Divider credit to @saradika

November 4, 1999

At nine months pregnant, everything hurts.

Perhaps that’s why when you wake up for work with an extra pinch in your back, you cast off any worries. Or maybe it’s because you still have over a week until you’re due, and first babies tend to take their time arriving, so there’s no possible way that today is the day.

You shrug on a sweater and your most comfortable pair of maternity jeans, your body heavy with pregnancy and fatigue. Your movements are sluggish, even more so than usual, and Eddie notices as he stands out the counter, shoveling a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into his mouth.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asks, tongue darting out to swipe a drip of milk from his lower lip.

Nodding, you massage just above your tailbone in a meager attempt to ease the pain. “Mhm,” you lie, grabbing two granola bars from the pantry. You unwrap one and take a big bite, letting the chocolate chips melt in your mouth. “Just ready to have this baby.” Another lie, or possibly a half truth; while you’re eager to have your body to yourself again, the prospect of labor and delivery terrifies you.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, his palms gently rubbing your bump. “Eleven more days and then we’ll be a family of four.”

“Baby Brother is taking forever to get here,” Harris laments from his seat at the table, spearing a banana slice with his fork. He glances at your stomach with impatient eyes. “Can’t you do something to hurry him up?”

You cough as your husband’s cheeks flush pink; he rakes a ringed hand through his curls. No doubt he’s remembering last night when he’d innocently lifted your belly to relieve some of the pressure, only to find himself hard as a rock as his fingers lightly dug into your skin. I’ll go slow so I don’t send you into early labor, he’d remarked with a teasing wink.

“Gotta be patient,” Eddie says now, seemingly having recovered from the brief flashback. He slurps the remaining milk from the bowl and stifles a belch, reaching for his jacket and keys. “Have a great day at work,” he kisses you, smiling against your lips, “and school.” He ruffles Harris’s hair, and just like that, he’s out the door.

Harris finishes his breakfast, placing his empty plate in the sink and scampering to the door to put on his sneakers. You watch enviously as he ties them with ease; you’ve been relegated to slip-on shoes until your feet are no longer swollen.

“Come on, Mommy,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I don’t wanna miss the bus.”

You silently pray that the short walk to the bus stop will ease your muscle tension, taking careful steps as you trail behind the far-too-energetic-for-8 AM little boy.

Eleven more days. Only eleven more days, you tell yourself. The reminder has tears prickling along your lash line in a double-edged sword. You don’t think you can handle eleven more days of this discomfort, but will you truly be ready to have a newborn baby in less than two weeks? Once you give birth, you can no longer shield your baby from the world’s dangers and cruelties. Will your love be enough? Will you be enough? And how can you possibly figure it all out in just eleven days?

Your mantra of eleven more days turns out to be just six hours. Since Will became a teacher two years ago, the two of you have made it a habit to spend time together after the students’ dismissal. You’re preparing art materials for tomorrow’s class when you feel it—a trickle of liquid sliding down your leg.

Your eyes widen, heat crawling up your neck and into your face. I peed myself at work. It had happened once last month, but it was preceded by a sneeze, and you were already in the parking lot about to go home. When you’d told Eddie that evening, the two of you laughed so hard that you’d wet yourself again.

But this feels…different.

“Oh, no.” There’s another small stream, but it isn’t accompanied by any relief on your bladder. Your worried murmur gets Will’s attention, and he looks at you with concern. “I think my water broke, but I don’t know…it might just be pee…” Your voice trails off before you can speak in circles.

Will leaps to his feet. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” The pair of scissors he’s been using to cut out paper stars clatter to the table as he rushes to your side.

“Call Eddie,” you mumble, gripping your bump as a cramp—most likely a contraction, you realize—squeezes at your pelvis. “Tell him to—shit—to get my bag from the apartment and bring it to the hospital.” You bite your lip to stifle a groan. “I’ll call Wayne and ask him to get Harris from the bus.”

He nods, dialing from the classroom phone as you rattle off the record store’s number. You pull your own Nokia cell phone—a purchase Eddie had insisted upon after you got pregnant, wanting to make sure you and Baby Munson stayed safe.

“So, um,” Will hesitates after you’ve hung up with Wayne, ending the conversation with a promise to let him know as soon as the baby is born, “Eddie was in the middle of a guitar lesson, so I left a message with one of his employees—”

Please don’t say Ev, you wordlessly plead. Anyone but the stoner who can barely remember to show up to work on time.

“Ev, I think?”

Shit.

Will hooks his arm with yours, providing you with the stability to stand up. “Let’s get you to the hospital, all right? Maybe it’s a false alarm or something.”

You nod, but deep down, you know that this baby is on his way. Call it mother’s intuition, you muse wryly.

After a quick stop in Principal Sinclair’s office to explain the situation, Will helps you into his Chevy Impala, grimacing along with you when another contraction hits. “Should we be timing those?”

You grit your teeth. “Shit, y-yeah. I completely forgot.” All those birthing books you’d read cover to cover to prepare for this moment, and you hadn’t even remembered to time your own damn contractions. “We need to track how long they last and the amount of time between them.”

Will remains unfazed. “We’ll just start now,” he says simply, flicking his wrist to check his watch. “It’s 2:32. Let me know when you get another one.” He turns the key in the ignition, taking your hand before putting the gear shift into drive. “It’ll be okay. Eddie’s gonna get the message, and he’ll be here soon.”

It’s as though he can read your mind, and you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s right; if you are in labor, it’s still early enough that Eddie won’t miss the birth.

You hope.

Your contractions are one minute long and twelve minutes apart by the time you reach Hawkins General Hospital, growing slightly stronger with each wave. Will relays the information to the receptionist, his voice wavering with nerves and excitement despite his best efforts to remain calm.

Before you know it, you’re being wheeled into a room, a laminated bracelet with your personal details dangling from your wrist. The clock on the wall indicates that it’s just past 3 PM, which means that Eddie should be here in a few minutes.

As if on cue, the cell phone in your purse chirps its familiar ringtone. Harris had insisted that you change it from the standard option, choosing one that sounds like birds chirping. It normally reminds you of springtime mornings; right now, you’re ready to throw it through the window.

Will passes it to you, and you punch the answer button with an impatient, “hello?”

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Eddie’s carefree demeanor wafts through the speaker, “just wanted to check in and see if you’re feeling any better. Did you want me to pick up something from the store on my way—?”

Dammit, Ev. “Eddie, my water broke at work. Will called earlier and left a message,” you manage, maneuvering around the heart rate monitor to brace for another contraction. “I’m—ughhh, shit—I’m at the hospital.”

“What?!” You can hear his sudden shift to panic; the phone drops from his grasp and clatters on the counter before he retrieves it, uttering a slew of swear words. “Okay, I’ll be right there. Your bag’s at home, right? Oh, and Harris! Shit, let me—”

“Wayne’s on it,” you tell him, hopefully putting an end to his mile-a-minute thoughts. “I just need my bag and my husband.”

There’s a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. “I can provide both.” His humor peeks through his fear in subtle reassurance. “Be there ay-sap. I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you, too.” A soft click tells you that he’s on his way, probably simultaneously scrambling for his keys and shouting at his employee.

Nearly an hour later, there’s still no sign of Eddie. Will blots the perspiration on your forehead with a cloth; out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s watching the clock as well. “He’ll be here,” he says as though reading your mind. Or maybe he’s scared that he’ll have to stand in for Eddie throughout the entire process. “In the meantime, I’ll flag down a nurse so we can get you that epidural.” His words are even, but his smile is uneasy, both of you well-aware that he is out of his element. Though he’ll deny it vehemently, you know you owe him. Big-time.

“Why don’t you grab yourself some food from the cafeteria?” You’d heard his stomach growling just before, and he can certainly use a break.

Will nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do you want anything?” he asks out of habit, cheeks tinged pink as you shake your dismal cup of ice chips. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He ducks out of the room as a nurse walks in.

“Are we considering an epidural, Mrs. Munson?” she asks. Her bright smile is one you’ll be unable to return until after the pain medication takes effect.

“Y-Yeah, please.” You shift uncomfortably while she examines you and announces that your cervix is four centimeters dilated. Part of you is relieved that labor is progressing at a pace where Eddie should arrive in time for the delivery; another part just wants this baby out of you, now.

The nurse makes a note on your chart. “I’ll let the anesthesiologist know.” Another unreciprocated grin and she’s gone, off to poke and prod the next patient.

Alone for a moment, you relish the quiet, save for the soft beeps of the machines you’re connected to. With great care, you caress the swell of your stomach where your son has developed from a microscopic speck to a full-term baby.

“Your daddy will get here soon,” you murmur to your sensor-covered belly, “hopefully before you do.” You laugh for a second until another contraction squeezes you from the inside, shifting your expression from amused to pained.

The anesthesiologist and Will arrive at the same time, the former pausing to let your impromptu birth partner enter first. He walks with more enthusiasm now that he’s eaten, though his meal threatens to reappear when he sees the doctor pull out the comically oversized needle.

“Just lean forward,” she says to you, “you’ll feel some pressure, but once the medication kicks in, it’ll be worth it.” She offers you a kind smile before turning to Will and explaining, “you may need to help her.”

“Mhm. Sure.” Will mumbles, avoiding looking at the needle. You clasp your hand in his so you can sit up. The cool air raises goosebumps on the sliver of flesh no longer covered by the gown, but the chill is quickly replaced by a stinging sensation that has you gripping Will’s palm. You don’t realize the strength of your grasp until you hear him mutter, “ow,” but you don’t let go until the burning ceases.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, watching him shake out his hand. “About all of this. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your afternoon.”

He shakes his head and guides you back against the pillow. “Maybe not, but I’m glad I can be here for you.” Now that the threat of broken fingers has passed, he truly means it.

5:46 PM.

You’ve been in the hospital for nearly three hours, and there’s still no sign of Eddie. Will’s casually flipping through a copy of People magazine that’s so outdated, Nick Nolte was just crowned the Sexiest Man Alive. He’s visibly more relaxed now that the medication has eased your pain, chattering teeth a welcome replacement for your anguished moans.

Your concern that Eddie will miss the baby’s birth has hardened into pure fear that something has happened to him. What if he lost focus while driving and got into an accident? The weather was overcast when you’d arrived at Hawkins General; it could have started raining since then and created slippery roads, perfect for hydroplaning. The thought of him hurt while you’re unable to help him has your insides churning, and for the first time, you’re grateful for an empty stomach.

Maybe you should call Wayne and find out if he had heard from his nephew. But if he hadn’t, then both of you would be stuck worrying and answerless; even worse, if he had and didn’t want to relay bad news while you’re in such a vulnerable state–

“I’m here!”

Relief surges through your veins, Eddie’s panting voice music to your ears. You roll from your side onto your back to see your husband standing by your bedside. Sweat drips down his temples and pools under his arms with the pungency of someone who’d just completed a marathon. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, a jacket haphazardly tossed over his shoulder and your bag clutched in his hand.

He swoops down and places his lips on yours in a series of frantic kisses, his free palm cupping your cheek as though ensuring that the moment is real. He only pulls back when you do, getting a glimpse of your face.

“Where were you?” Not an accusation, but a question threaded with genuine care.

His nose nudges yours as he sneaks in another peck. “Did you know that Chief Hopper retired?” Your brows furrow in confusion at his non-answer to your question. “Well, he did, and the sheriff’s department decided to throw him a parade. Today. Closed off a bunch of the side streets and backed up traffic on the main ones.” He coughs out a terse laugh. “Glad I quit smoking, or my lungs would’ve given up before I hit a half-mile.”

You mull over his response for a moment before it finally clicks. “Wait…did you run here?”

He tugs at his shirt fabric in an attempt to create a breeze that will cool him down. “It was more like a walk-run combo, but…yeah.” He shrugs, no big deal. “Parked my car in a random lot and just…booked it.” His shoulder gently sag as the adrenaline from his adventure wears away. “I gotta sit.”

It’s then that he notices Will, rising from the chair and placing the gossip rag on the table beside him. “Byers, holy shit,” Eddie looks at him incredulously, “have you been here with her the whole time?”

“He has,” you answer for him, managing a grateful smile in your friend’s direction. “And I can’t thank him enough.” Will returns the gesture and pulls Eddie in for a hug, wishing you both luck before slipping out the door.

Eddie brings his full attention back to you, lacing his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes the side of your hand, bringing small but strong comfort with each gentle touch. “Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry–”

“Eds,” you interrupt before he can continue his apology, “you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” Soft, distracted, overthinking. You can practically see the gears in head spinning, His second child and the second time he’d nearly missed the birth. He clears his throat and shakes away the thought with a toss of his hair, swiping his tongue over his lower lip. “How are you feeling?” He takes in the sight of you, his wife, the most beautiful being his cynical eyes have ever seen. “You look pretty damn good for someone about to have a baby.”

You laugh. “That epidural is a miracle from above.” You’ll gladly take the chattering teeth and the itchiness over the sensation of your pelvis imploding. Eddie doesn’t share in your amusement, still focused on his own shortcomings. “Hey,” you say quietly, pulling him out of his mind with just one word. “Don’t think about the missed message or the traffic. We’re having our baby today.” You bring his hand to the apex of your stomach in the final few hours that it houses the life you two created together.

“I love you.”

His eyes shine with emotion. He’s here, not only in this moment, but throughout the entire pregnancy. He didn’t bury himself in music or booze or other arbitrary distractions. He’d read What to Expect When You’re Expecting cover to cover, had gone to all of the doctor’s appointments, made sure to keep the kitchen stocked with your cravings and free of your aversions. He’d picked up the household chores (and delegated some to Harris) to ease your workload and wiped your tears when you’d cried while watching two squirrels play in a tree.

You never asked him to do any of it; you never needed to.

“I love you, too.”

It all happened so quickly.

One minute, Eddie’s watching the monitor spike with a contraction, utterly bewildered by the power of pain medication.

“You really can’t feel that?”

“Just some pressure, but nothing like earlier. I told you; it’s a godsend.”

After hours of strategic breathing, a plethora of ice chips, and a steady outpouring of love between you two, you’re about to tell him that you feel the urge to push.

And then a nurse rushes in.

“Mr. and Mrs. Munson,” he begins, urgency evident even through his calm exterior, “your baby is experiencing late heart rate deceleration. We need to begin delivery immediately.” He glances at Eddie, then at you. “I’m going to check your dilation to see if we’ll try a vaginal delivery or prepare for a cesarean birth.”

The blood drains from Eddie’s face as he processes the information, the lighthearted energy completely zapped from the room. “Is…is she…are they…”

The nurse finishes the examination, removing his rubber glove. “Ten centimeters,” he announces. “I’ll page the doctor.”

It’s a whirlwind, with almost no time for panic to set in. The doctor and the other nurses arrive immediately, and when Eddie takes your hand, you can feel him trembling.

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be strong for you. Your face says it all: you’re terrified, and you need him to be your rock.

“You’ve got this, Sweetheart,” he whispers fiercely, pushing past the lump in his throat. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know, and I’m so lucky that you’re having my baby.” He kisses your forehead; out of the corner of his eye, he sees the medical staff preparing for delivery. His heart skips a beat, and the realization hits that he’s about to be a father of two.

You’re exhausted, a salty mixture of sweat and tears decorating your face. Gritting your teeth, you push while Eddie coaches you, reminding you to breathe and allowing you to swear at him without even batting an eyelash. It’s mostly a blur, with all of your energy concentrated on getting this baby out, but you vaguely recall telling him that he’s not allowed to even think about touching you again.

“Almost there,” he cheers, flashing an awestruck smile so wide that his cheeks ache. “C’mon, you can do it! Oh, my god, you’re a goddamn superhero.”

Three giant pushes later, you hear the telltale newborn wail as a nurse coos, “Happy birthday, little man! Here’s your mama!” She gently places your tiny baby on your chest, quickly wiping off the vernix covering his body.

“He’s here!” you manage through simultaneous laughter and cries. You carefully hold him against you, kissing the wisps of curls on his scalp. “Hi, baby boy!” Turning to Eddie, you blink away the mist coating your eyes. “We have another son,” you choke out.

He just nods, relishing in the wonder of becoming a father again. His pointer finger grazes the baby’s little half-closed fist, only looking away when the nurse asks him if he’d like to cut the umbilical cord. “Y-Yeah. Please,” he awkwardly adds, doing exactly as he’s instructed.

As the baby is lifted from your torso to be assessed and measured, Eddie kisses you with a passion you’ve never felt before, even from him. You can see that he’s crying, too, and he wipes his cheeks haphazardly.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, punctuating the statement with another kiss. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids.” His nose rubs yours tenderly.

You smile at him. “Do you want to call Wayne? I won’t be up for visitors until the morning,” you add, “but I just want to let him know that the baby’s here, happy and healthy.”

“In a bit,” he murmurs, watching the nurse carefully swaddle his newborn son in a hospital blanket. “I just wanna hold him first.”

Eddie takes your baby from the nurse, shifting to support his head. “Hey, buddy. I’m your dad.” His body slowly sways as he rocks back and forth. “You gave us quite the scare just now. I see you’re following in your big brother’s mischievous footsteps.” He swears his heart melts when the infant opens his mouth to yawn. “Yeah, you’ve had a busy day. Same here. But it was worth it, huh?”

He wears fatherhood so naturally, so perfectly. You wish you could capture this feeling in a jar and save it forever. For now, you settle for watching him fawn over his newest son, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Eddie murmuring, “and let me tell you: you have the best mommy a kid could ever ask for.”

Morning arrives after a restless sleep. You know the nurses are just following protocol when they examine you every hour, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it.

But the next knock on the door is one that you welcome willingly. Harris and Wayne stand there, waiting for permission to enter. You smile when you notice Harris shuffling his feet and shaking his hands in an attempt to expel some excess energy.

“Come on in,” Eddie whispers, beaming, “there’s someone very special we’d like to introduce you to.”

Harris rushes to your bedside, peering at the bundle in your arms. “My baby brother!” he squeals, jumping up and down.

Eddie puts a finger to his lips. “He’s sleeping, so we have to be quiet, okay?” He ruffles Harris’s hair as the boy nods. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah,” Harris lowers his voice, sitting down on the bed. You scoot over, careful not to move too quickly, and he melds into your side. He’s always been small to you, but compared to his baby brother, he seems so grown up.

“Okay, hold out your arms like this,” Eddie instructs, demonstrating the correct position, “and you’re gonna make sure to keep his head nice and safe, because he can’t hold it up on his own yet.”

Harris sports a look of concentration as you and Eddie work in tandem to place the baby in his arms. “He’s got the teeniest nose I’ve ever seen.”

Wayne laughs at this, watching his older grandson snuggle his youngest. “Does this little fella have a name yet?”

“Oh, right.” Eddie chuckles. “Gentlemen, this is Hendrix William Munson. ‘Hendrix’ after one of the most talented guitarists to grace this planet, and ‘William’ after an amazing friend and substitute birth partner.”

“Hendrix,” Harris repeats incredulously, never taking his eyes off of his brother. “I’m Harris. I talked to you when you were in Mommy’s tummy, remember?” Hendrix lets out a long exhale, like he’s acknowledging the question. “I know you’re still too little right now, but when you get big, we’re gonna play together all the time. Except when I’m at school.” He looks over at you expectantly. “Can I bring him to school with me? Like for show and tell?”

“Maybe when he’s older,” you say, lacking the bandwidth to point out the logistics of his request.

Harris wrinkles his nose, but his expression quickly softens. “Yeah, you’re right. He can’t even do any tricks yet.”

It’s quiet for a moment, everyone focused on the two Munson boys. Surprisingly, Wayne is the one who breaks the silence.

“You two have one beautiful family,” he muses, an arthritic finger grazing Hendrix’s blanket. “Y’should be proud of yourselves.”

Eddie gives his uncle’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Couldn’t have done it without ya, Old Man.”

Wayne knows this, accepting the compliment with a bashful grin but saying nothing further.

Peacefulness surrounds the five of you, soft conversation seamlessly weaving its way into the calm. You can’t kid yourself; most days will be pure chaos, balancing spit-up and school plays, field trips and feeding schedules. And once Hendrix starts walking—and running—you’ll need all cylinders firing.

But today, right now, you soak in the serenity. Just you and your boys. Your family.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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lovers-rck · 2 months

Text

little secret | abby anderson x reader.

summary abby anderson likes to read, and you like abby anderson. | friends to lovers, +18.

okay.... this is the longest fic i ever written (i think)

enjoy

but before, help palestine with one click.

☆

You met her in winter. The immensity of the stadium they called home impressed you, a reconstructed civilization within an abnormality hard to ignore.

Even though she was the most respected soldier in the place, your memory ranks her welcome as the warmest. Between fluffy sweaters and worn leather jackets, Abby showed you a warmth that made Seattle's monstrous winter seem like a light summer breeze.

In addition to showing you the place where you would now live, immense and so functional it was frightening, Abby showed you more than the visible. As time passed, shyly, Abby took her time to show you her jokes, her favorite books, (of which there were many, you decided) her strange ways of combining food to kill hunger longer, her wounds; the internal and the external.

The personal library that Abby had begun to assemble when she arrived at W.L.F. was now familiar to you. When responsibilities left and the moon was present in the atmosphere, the two of you spent the night in that place. The bookshelves acted like skyscrapers over your bodies sitting on the floor, filled with books and comics that the W.L.F. soldiers encountered on their daily patrols.

"I think they're going to end up together" Abby mutters, her nose buried between the pages of an old red-covered book.

"You said the same thing about the other book last night" You replied. Youdidn't share the same passion for reading as Abby, but you enjoyed listening to her tell you about her new readings and her theories about what might or might not happen in those pages.

You liked that contrast with the soldier Abby, the one everyone knew, and the Abby you knew. During the day her posture was steady, stone-eyed and scrutinizing every movement nature had to offer, attentive and ready to pull the trigger at any danger, but when night fell, her posture changed completely; usually hunched over, her features softer, more relaxed.

"It's not my fault that everyone writes the same thing" Abby rolled her eyes, putting the book aside but not before folding a corner of the page, marking where it was left "I guess it was a popular idea back in the day"

"You should write a book."

Abby let out a groan, leaning back against the bookshelf behind her. The two of you were sitting on the floor, facing each other, separated by a pile of books scattered on the library's newest acquisition: a worn purple carpet.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes" Abby blurted out.

"Why?" you asked "It wasn't a joke anyway"

"Because of Manny. He was out of control today during patrol. He almost got us killed"

You rolled your eyes "You know what he's like" Abby massaged her shoulder absently, you could see her muscles twitch "I'm sure it was nothing, you just can't stand it when people don't follow your orders"

she looked at you, her eyebrows raised "Excuse me?"

Ypu laughed lightly "It's true. You're a serial controller."

"I'm not a serial controller, for your information" Abby said "It's just not a place for jokes"

"If you say..." you mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest and dropping the conversation; knowing Abby, she would never admit it.

"What?"

You shrugged, smiling graciously at Abby's accusatory look "I didn't say anything."

"You don't believe me" Abby scrutinized you with her gaze.

You shook your head "I didn't say that".

"But you thought it"

You rolled your eyes "Now you're a mind reader? I can see why you're considered the best soldier ever"

"There's nothing wrong with being controlling, Abs. That's the way you get everything you want. Everything you have" you continued.

Abby let out a sigh, her chest heaving, "Yeah, whatever"

The room fell into a deep silence for a couple of minutes. You decided to grab a book, trying to read it and make some sense of the words, but Abby's gaze on you prevented your brain from synapses.

"What?" you said in an accusatory tone, resting the book in your lap and looking at that blonde girl.

Now it was Abby's turn to shrug, a slight smirk planted on her face "I didn't say anything"

"Whatever."

Abby considered picking up her book as well, but saw no point in seeing the very predictable ending that the last few pages held. Your words were still echoing in her head; everything she wanted.

She, in fact, didn't have everything she wanted. Abby thought she lacked a handful of essentials; a reasonable sleep schedule, a meal that with all the proteins, a partner who wasn't a complete idiot on patrol.

But hey, those were luxuries given the circumstances.

To no one's surprise, you caught Abby's attention from the very first moment. She remembers with tenderness the first time she saw you, wet and covered with blood, hidden among the large leaves of a strange plant that had been born thanks to the combination of vegetation and fungus, with a look that Abby would never forget.

She felt the need to protect you, not because she considered you weak, but because a strange feeling led her to position herself in front of you when in the patrols you heard some infected too close, or that time when a Seraphite appeared unexpectedly and hurted you, and Abby kept chasing Mel through the corridors to remind her to be extremely careful with you.

"I know what I'm doing, Abby" she remembered how Mel told her one night "She's going to be fine"

Abby tried to convince herself that it was just that she had grown too attached to you, but something inside her told her it was something more than that, something deeper, more intense.

Abby thought she lacked a handful of things that were essential to her life, like you.

"You know, you read too many romance books" you said, snapping Abby out of her thoughts "Are you in love, Anderson?"

"Oh my god" Abby muttered "You should go to sleep, the lack of it is affecting your reasoning."

"So, is that a yes?"

"I don't choose what to read" Abby replied "I don't know if you noticed, but we're in an apocalypse. I don't have too many genres to choose from."

"You still haven't answered my question!"

Abby's muscles tensed as she could see how you moved from your position and sat closer to her, next to her. Abby could feel your arm brush against hers.

"So..." You murmured, your breath hitting Abby's lips "Tell me your little secret."

"My little secret?" Abby murmured, forcing herself to look only into your eyes.

"Who do you like?" And Abby snorted, rolling her eyes "Is it Nora? I've seen you two together a lot recently."

"No, wait, i know. It's mel, isn't it?" You continued. Your knee bumped into Abby's thigh.

"I'm not in love with Nora, or Mel, dumbass. They're my friends."

You emitted silence for a few seconds, and then:

"Is it Manny?"

"Are you kidding me?" Abby replied with a tone that made you burst out laughing, combined with all those laughs written on worn pages

"I'm sorry. I had to say it" you said with a chuckle.

Abby shook her head slowly, a smile planting itself on her face. Fucking Manny, she thought.

"So?" You said after a few minutes. Abby looked at you, her blue sapphires piercing your gaze. "Who is it?" You muttered, your voice coming out weaker than intended.

Siddenly the library became the quietest place in that giant structure. Every whisper, every sigh felt too aggressive, too loud; something that threatened to break the intimacy that the proximity of your bodies had created.

Abby slowly denied with her head, closing her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, something had changed in her gaze.

"You're not going to tell me?" You whispered. Your hand rested close to Abby's. At some point, you doubted whether your bones had turned to magnet and Abby's to metal because of the way a supernatural force was compelling you to be close to her.

She denied again, but the way her eyes flicked to your mouth for a microsecond gave her away.

"It's okay" you whispered "I think I have an idea."

The first time you saw her, that winter, you noticed that Abby had a tendency to lick her lips constantly. It didn't seem odd to you, as the winter in Seattle was very dry and lip balm was not something they were equipped with at the W.L.F, but as time went on you noticed that Abby had a tendency to lick her lips only when she was with you; when you pretended you didn't know she was looking at you, when you got close to her face to apply a lipstick you found in one of the patrolling days, when you gave her a kiss on the cheek on the morning of her birthday.

And now, just before your lips meet hers.

For the first few seconds neither of you move. Your lips linger on hers shyly, too terrified to move but refusing to pull away. Abby has to muster all her strength to move her hand to your jaw, holding you, and suddenly every shred of fear leaves her.

Your lips instantly reciprocate, too hungry, too thirsty for her taste. Abby thinks that now that she finally knows what it feels like to kiss you, she fears not being able to stop.

Her hand, which initially started on your cheek, travels down your body to your waist squeezing the flesh viciously. Her fingerprints savor every touch your body provides, skin that has been reserved for so long just for her enjoyment.

When Abby's hand makes contact with the exposed portion of skin, the air circulating through the stadium feels insufficient. Your body takes on an inhuman heat, a heat worthy of the iron emanating from the gates to hell, a heat that only she can cease.

"Abby" your lips release, a strangled moan.

"I know" She replies.

Your body was now a mass that Abby could mold as she wished. She is overcome with a sweeping euphoria as she becomes aware of the control your body offers her, and thinks maybe you were right; she likes to be in control.

You try to keep up with her movements. You touch her skin, her arms, afraid to ruin the pattern of freckles that rest perfectly on her rosy shoulders.

In a matter of seconds you end up on her lap, your legs hugging her thighs, clinging to the new sensation that Abby's shyness deprived you of for so long. Between kisses, you can hear the moans the blonde's mouth emits, weak but guttural moans.

"Can I..." Abby murmurs, her mouth on top of yours "Can I touch you?"

Your throat fails to find the strength to elicit a sound, so you just nod, eager for anything that comes from her. Instantly you feel Abby's fingers undoing your belt and unbuttoning the button of your pants, but just as you're ready for the next thing, Abby's fingers linger in place.

"What's wrong?" you ask, strands of hair interrupting your vision. Your hair feels so tousled "You don't have to if you don't want to Abs."

Abby shakes her head, her eyes drift to her hands lying in your lap, fiddling with the button "It's nothing" she murmurs "It's just.... It's been a while, you know?"

And you understand. Your fingers stroke the backs of Abby's arms.

"I understand. You don't have to be nervous" you say, trying to get her to look at you "It's just us."

Abby nods. She looks at your abdomen, the way your t-shirt hugs your waist.

"If it makes you feel any better, I never did this" you whisper, and that's all it takes for Abby to look at you.

"Never?"

you deny "Never"

"What about the redheaded girl last month? You told me things happened."

You stifle a laugh, embarrassed. Now it's your turn to look away from Abby and focus on the pattern on her shirt.

"It was stupid. We didn't do anything, it scared me" you can feel her tuck an unruly lock behind your ear, her fingertips caressing your face "It was just a silly kiss."

Abby nods slowly, her gaze still on you "Okay. Okay."

Behind the library doors, women and children walk the halls, leaders give orders and soldiers disappear behind the massive doors while others return from adventures. The world is functional again.

"Do you think it's stupid?" you mutter.

"What? No" Abby denies "It's not stupid. It's fine. Besides, it's not like we have a lot of time for that kind of thing around here"

Your lips let out a chuckle. "Yeah, that's true."

Your eyes match Abby's gaze, who smiles slightly. Her smile is sweet, friendly, you can feel the warmth that is so characteristic of her, nestling between the corners of her mouth

This time she starts the kiss. This time it is calmer, less desperate, but just as passionate. Her fingers return to what concerns them, and navigate between your pants and the elastic of your underwear.

Her fingers are cold, so you stir in her lap at the sensation and Abby laughs, apologizing softly. You quickly forget about the sharp change in temperature because you have Abby where you want her most.

Even though it's been a long time since the last time, Abby is quick to pull your panties to the side and find a rhythm that has you moaning in seconds. Your lips break the kiss several times, moans seeking air and space to make themselves present.

"Is this okay?" Abby murmurs into your neck, wet kisses planting themselves on your skin.

Your hips move against her hand, desperate "Yes Abs" the hot air of your breath hits against her ear, and Abby almost lets out the most obscene sound ever uttered "Please, keep going."

Abby's free hand massages your breasts, squeezes and fondles them. Her tongue plays with the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and marking every inch.

The euphoria and pleasure of the moment makes you feel invincible, and your hand darts toward Abby's pants, unzipping them and finding her black boxers.

"What are you doing?" Abby says, choked words.

You ignore her and continue your task, reaching inside her underwear and trying to mimic the move you do to yourself on nights where your body lies too warm on the sheets of some room at the W.L.F. Your movements are clumsy, but they work wonders for Abby, who stifles her moans into your neck.

As her nature defines her, Abby is a competitive girl in every way, so when she feels an immense heat who tries to collapse her under your effects, her fingers pick up the pace and pull desperate moans from your throat.

There was no way Abby would finish before you.

"Abby" you moan, your fingers losing rhythm "Abby"

"I know."

It doesn't take too many seconds before your body shudders under Abby's control and moans and groans come out of your mouth, which you choke on her shoulder.

Pleasure blurs your vision and senses, so you can't anticipate when a trembling, whimpering Abby pulls your hand from her intimacy and her muscles contract accompanied by a long, shuddering moan.

You and her breathing evens out, both of your breasts moving to the rhythm of the beat that is their hearts tuned to the same station.

You look at her. She looks at you.

Abby thinks this ending is better than any book she's ever read.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #tlou

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

absolution - prologue

-simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

-warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of scars, fluff

-word count: 1.4k

-summary: you're a sniper and reconnaissance specialist in the military, secretly married to Simon, as the knowledge of your relationship would compromise both your posts. One night he comes home from a mission and you tell him that Price wants you on the team for an upcoming 141 mission.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: this is the first time I've written any sort of fic so pls bear with me, there will be smut eventually, I haven't mapped everything out so don't worry there will be spice. also, I'm not super advanced when it comes to mw lore, aside from the events that occur in the new mw2, but I really love this character and I hope I do him some justice. I'm gonna make a part two, maybe multiple chapters but I'm not sure so pls let me know if you'd read more. :)

this fic was inspired by 'The Captain' by @/as-is-above-so-below which is really phenomenal, so please read that if you get the chance.

It was late in the night when you heard the door open, usually you were a heavy sleeper, but you could always sense when Simon came home. He had been gone for six months on his last mission, somewhere in south america was all he could say about it, before packing up and taking off to leave you alone in your shared flat once again. A mutual understanding had been made during the beginning of your relationship, both of you were military personnel, and you understood that it came with perks, months off spent together, but it also came with its downsides, being separated for months at a time, never knowing what condition the other was in, and living in a constant state of worry about your partner. When Simon proposed, he promised to always come home to you, to never leave you alone like everyone else did, and you believed him, trusted him, and he never broke his promise. His footsteps were light when he came into the bedroom, still wearing his mask, but donning his less formal jeans and black sweatshirt, you caught him lingering in the doorway as you moved to flick on the light next to the bed, casting a dark shadow behind your husband. As soon as your eyes met he lifted his arms to pull his mask off, no longer the ghost, but now standing as the man you so loved. A faint smile crept up on your face as you awakened fully, happy to see him in one piece after being away for so long. You urged him over to the bed with a nudge of your head and he so happily obliged you, kneeling down beside your frame to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips, a deep kiss filled with longing.

“Hello” you smirked and glanced forward through your eyelashes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Hi lovie” he responded in almost a whisper.

“What time is it?” “late, go back to sleep, ill be here in a minute” he said, as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek and left your side. You watched him cross the room into the bathroom, and close the door almost fully, you two never closed doors fully when you were home together, a sort of unspoken law that allowed you to never be separated. As you heard the shower turn on you sighed to yourself and fell back against the pillows, turning off the bedside lamp. Minutes passed before you heard the shower turn off, waiting for Simon to emerge from the steam-filled room. Once he did, he quickly crossed to the closet to find suitable clothes to sleep in. Entering wearing a simple pair of sweatpants, rare considering he typically wore nothing to bed as the man was like a personal space heater, constantly burning to the touch. He settles himself next to you under the covers and turned to his side so he could pull you close. Resting his face inches from yours, looking at you like he was trying to memorize your face as if he could ever forget it.

“Did you buy more pillows while I was gone?” he asked whilst fussing with the various adornments you have thrown onto the bed. You smirked to yourself, “Yes, but only ‘cause I was trying to make the bed comfier” “The bed is comfy” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Not when you aren't here,” you said as you snuggled close to him, tucking your head under his chin and settling your arm over his waist to allow it to wander over the expanse of his back, feeling over his scars, old and new, silently cursing yourself that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from getting hurt.

“Knife” Simon breathes out. You respond by simply tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at him. “ ‘sfrom a knife, this cartel was big into watching people bleed”. A meek oh was all you could manage, as you thought about him hurt in the field, a literal knife in his back as he tried to survive. “I’m alright lovie, nothing I haven’t been through before.” He was always this way when it came to his wounds, paying no attention to them after the fact, simply regarding them as an addition to the collection of marks that littered his body. You hated thinking of him hurt, but in an odd way, you regarded the scars kindly.

“You think they’re ugly?” He asks while resting his lips on the crown of your head. “No,” you respond without much thought. He tilts your head to meet your eyes, urging you to explain. “They’re reminders..” you say while looking into his dark eyes. “They prove how hard you fight to come back to me.. I could never find them ugly”. He gives you a simple hmm in response before he arched his neck down to place a kiss on your lips.

“How was it, while I was away?” Simon liked to start conversations later in the night as it meant less time trying to force his body asleep, thankfully you were still awake, which meant he could talk to you rather than staring blankly at a wall or tossing and turning for hours in the hopes of maybe getting a few hours of peaceful sleep.

“Boring” you respond “Went to work, filled out paperwork, trained some new recruits, and practiced grappling” “So nothing interesting happened” he asked. “Well, one thing” you respond moving yourself to look at him. “Price called me” you state, waiting for any change in his face to dictate whether or not you should continue your sentence, he remained stoic. “He wants me for a mission with the 141,” you say. “No” is all Simon responds.

“You don’t even know what it is yet”

“No, you know what kind of missions we get, you’ve seen the paperwork. I don’t want you in any position that could risk your safety”

“Si, every mission risks my safety this wouldn’t be any different”

“Except I would be there, that makes this dangerous”

“How?”

“I can’t do my job if I’m constantly worrying about you, where you are, how you are. It would compromise me”

“Well, what do I tell Price? He doesn’t know we’re married, I can’t just explain to him that my husband doesn’t want me in the field with him, he’ll need a solid reason, and I don’t have one”

“I’ll tell him” Simon grunts.

“You’ll tell him what? That we’re married? You’ll give up that information just because you don’t want to risk me potentially getting hurt, that's bullshit and you know it” you argue as to begin to sit up in the bed, feeling yourself getting angrier at the idea of your husband not trusting your abilities in the field. “It’s not like I would be in the middle of the action, my position is a sniper and reconnaissance, I’ll sit on some rooftop for hours waiting for all of you to clear the way before I even think about pulling the trigger.”

“And what if something goes wrong, what if one of us is compromised? What then?”

“Then we deal with it! Like we always have, we’re a team Simon, I don’t expect your full support on this but I expect a little trust in my capabilities, I have never stopped you from going on a mission just because I thought it was unsafe, I have always trusted you. Please, do the same for me.” You beg as tears begin to prick your eyes.

He stares at you for what feels like minutes as you will him to talk. “Okay”, he says finally. “You’ll come, but this, us, stays a secret. I can’t have the enemies knowing I have any sort of weakness”

“I’m a weakness,” you ask.

“Yes, you’re a weakness. Because I don’t know what I would do if you ever got hurt. They can use you against me. I won’t let you be a pawn”

You reach your hand up to hold his cheek as you lay a soft kiss on his lips. “Okay” you whisper as you curl yourself into him, finding comfort in his warmth, as his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep.

Simon stayed awake, listening to your soft breathing, feeling your chest rise and fall with every breath. Holding on to you like if he even loosened his grip you would fall out. He lay awake thinking of all of the ways he would cuss out his Captain, all the ways he could try to get you taken off the mission, tormenting himself over all the possible outcomes of you joining him in the field, until eventually, his eyelids became too heavy, and he joined you in sleep.

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shelbygun · 24 days

Text

silent work

pairing: jonathan crane x fem!reader

summary: it was impossible for you to stay still in his lap

warnings: cockwarming, smut, dom!jonathan, reader is a little needy

a/n: i just need to be on jon's lap, now (pss, it's my first fic, so sorry for the spelling mistakes, english is not my first language!)

When Jonathan works, you must be silent. He would put you on his lap, with his cock inside you while his eyes ran over papers, and you must not make even the slightest noise, otherwise he would punish you. It’s simple.

You never disobey that rule of silence, you are always with your pretty little mouth closed, your face hidden in his neck. Sometimes you even managed to fall asleep.

But today you didn't feel so obedient.

You were bored of listening to the papers pass through Jonathan's fingers, the unbearable typing of his computer. He was analyzing some records of his recent patients, that meant you had to be quiet and still, not disturbing.

But boredom was killing you, and it didn't help to feel the veins of his cock throbbing against your walls, making the desire to move increase more and more.

You glanced at Jonathan's face, who was too focused on what was written on the papers, and something crossed your mind.

"If I move a little, he won't notice."

Then, unable to hold on any longer, your hips began to move very carefully, trying not to raise suspicions and to be as sneaky as possible.

You felt a sense of relief when you were able to move and have his cock finally act inside you in a more pleasurable way.

The slight circles that your hips traced on Jonathan's lap were increasing in speed without you realizing it, but he did.

"Stay still, I'm not done yet. " He murmured quietly, holding your waist to make you stop.

You complained. "Please, Jonny..."

"No. I said stay still."

You pouted, burying your face in his neck and giving an annoyed huff. You had been like this for about an hour or even two and you still couldn't move, it was totally unfair.

About five minutes passed and you couldn't take it anymore, you had to move and end this otherwise you would go crazy.

No matter what Jonathan was going to say, you started moving again. You let out a low moan, feeling like that light friction was a gift from God.

"Don't. Move." Jonathan growled.

You let out an annoyed whine, pouting. "J-just allow me a little, Jonny... I feel very full..."

He sighed, putting the paperwork aside and focusing on you. "I said no. Stay still now." He demanded, grabbing your hips tightly, stopping your movements. "You're behaving very badly, fucking slut."

"P-please! Just a little more..." You pleaded, looking at him with your puppy eyes. You felt needy, your little pussy was begging for more.

Jonathan looked at you thoughtfully, deciding what to do. Then he looked down at the union of the two of you and at the incomplete work on the table.

"Fine, I let you. Just be quick." he finally said, sighing and making enough room for you to finish what you were starting.

Green light to continue.

You were actually moving now, putting your hands on his shoulders to make it easier. The little jumps you did made you moan like a dumb whore. It was all so relieving for you.

"Keep going, little slut. I want to see you cum." He murmured quietly, amused by how you moved so quickly, wanting to reach your orgasm. "Such a silly girl, huh? Always in need of cock..."

You moaned at his words, which encouraged you to go faster and reach your goal. You felt his hands on your hips, helping you with the jumps.

“O-oh, fuck…” you let a light whimper, biting your lips. You felt your legs trembling, your pussy squeezing his cock and that knot in your stomach was about to explode.

With one last moan you cum, panting softly. The mess you made oozed from your lips, staining Jonathan's pants white. You felt dizzy, but your face had a relieved smile.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, regulating your breathing. You still had his cock inside you, and you will continue like that until he finishes his work, while you feel your sticky liquid.

"Such a little slut, always in need of Daddy's cock..."

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #batman trilogy #batman begins

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enhafilthandfiction · 1 year

Note

Can u do making out with jungwon headcanons 🤭

₊˚ʚ Making out with Jungwon✧˚

A/n : Hello Anonnie! Thankyou so much for requesting! In my previous post I have written a whole fic of making out with Jungwon, so if you'd like to, you can check it out!

Warnings : Making out (obvi), grinding, neck kissing, hickeys, love bites, slight swearing, ass groping, mentions of touching him over his pants and him getting a boner

Word count : 552 words

Masterlist - Tips

Poor baby would become addicted to your lips, esp when they lingered on his for a little longer.

Even when you pull away for breath, he's definitely the type to chase after your lips in a needy manner.

He's even the type to make it very intense and be quite tense himself

"Wonnie calm down baby, there's no need to rush"

But he would just be very excited and giddy almost, loving the feeling of your lips on his.

He would always close his eyes, focusing on the feeling

When he wants more of you, he would either lick your lips or gently bite down on your lower lip, making you yelp in surprise.

When you lips part, he wastes no time sliding his tongue in your mouth, tasting you and exploring your mouth.

And the second his tongue meets yours there's no going back oml

He feels aroused by the feeling and starts squirming around, his hips twitching

When your hands snake to the back of his head to pull him closer, he almost loses it.

He starts kissing you like it the last time he's ever going to be kissing you.

Then you pull away, making him whine at the loss of warmth on his lips

But then he whines because you lips are on his neck, sucking on his sweet spots and kissing softly, almost in a teasing manner.

He feels himself get harder at the sensation, and when you point it out, he feels his cheeks go red, too shy about it.

But that's until you start marking him up, he feels your teeth gently nip at his skin and suddenly his shyness is out the window

He bucks his hips up, desperate for any sort of friction

He tilts his head back, giving you more surface area as he whimpers out you name

"Y/nn please, I need more"

He's such a needy baby I swear

His warm hands find your waist, sneakily sliding under your sweater and rubbing your sides.

But when that doesn't work, he's not afraid to find your backside, groping your ass

Does this while kissing too, just to rile you up

Maybe if he's feeling a little more confident, grabs your hand and places it on his growing bulge

"Feel how hard I am for you baby?"

Moans out when you slightly squeeze him through his pants "Fuuuuck, Y/n, need you"

You smirk at his adorable state; messy hair, puffy lips, red marks decorating his neck and collars, hips twitching and his hardness prominent in his pants.

You lean in for another long kiss, this time grinding your hips on him, giving him some relief.

"Mm t-thankyou y/n" he tries to say between kisses. But unfortunately you still leave him hanging

"Jungwonnie you're so adorable, but I gotta go, I'm gonna be late" you say, leaving him pouting for you to come back

Poor baby >:(

He ends up dealing with his boner in the shower, thinking of you

When he's done and looks at the mirror- notices the hickeys and love bites and immediately his cheeks turn crimson red

He blushes, remembering of what you two did, how your lips felt on his and on his neck and how much he loves kissing you

He feels cool having to hide hickeys 😎

Thanks a lot for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Inbox is always open for new requests!! (I need some)

Lyyyy <333

If you enjoyed this post, you can help support my blog by tipping me here! Anything is highly appreciated!

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miinatozakiii · 8 months

Note

heyy loved the teacher fic!!! idk if u were open to writing a smut chapter but I’d love to read how sana’s a sweet kindergarten teacher by day, freak in the sheets by night ;) the kiss scene was so well written, so hot but so sweet!! Also loved the part about Sana admiring the tattoos

In any case, I’m excited to read more Sana fics from you, whatever the plot!

sweet nothings

wife!sana x fem!reader

summary: comfy, heated mornings are the best way to start the weekend.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fluff ; smut ; cursing ; mentions of food

a/n: hi hi anons, thank you for your kind words! i was writing this little drabble for sana and it had smut and fluff, I figured it would fit both your requests. (also, to the second anon, I'm not too good with headcanons and whatnot so I hope this is alright with you.)

also, first time posting something more intimate, lmk how you guys like it.

sana is usually the first to wake up, it isn’t any different this morning.

she’s cuddled up against you, her arm draped across you and her hand on your waist. sana has one of your legs trapped between hers, as if you were one giant teddy bear, and your other free leg is sprawled out on the queen-sized bed. your hand rests on her forearm as you sleep, and sana has her head on your other arm near your shoulder while your hand rests on her own shoulder.

sana takes in the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine as she lazily breathes against your chest, it’s a refreshing smell and it really suits you, she thinks.

she lazily pulls herself closer to your body, trying to steal the warmth that you radiate, because it's unusually cold for some strange reason, but she's too lazy to turn off the fan that is spinning above on the lowest setting, or pull the blanket that sits messily on the two of you to cover her fully.

a small mumble escapes your lovers' lips, more like a faint hum as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of your neck, which seems to make you shift in your slumber a bit. your hand that's on sana's shoulder pushes the woman closer to you, and your other hand moves to her cheek, rubbing softly instinctively.

sana smiles at the feeling, and she's slowly waking up while you seem to be falling into a deeper sleep.

you two lay there for a bit longer – it's a saturday morning after all.

sana decides that it's time to get up fifteen minutes later, or at least when she's a little more awake.

she moves away a bit and a groan escapes your lips, sana giggles softly. she makes her way over to your cheek, trailing kisses down to where your pulse point is, and down to your collarbone with the tattoo that's exposed from your oversized t-shirt sana had gifted you for your birthday a couple months ago.

you roll over and your eyes stay shut,

"sana..." you mutter, "five... minutes...?"

"baby, it's almost eleven."

"it's saturday..." you sigh, blindly reaching for her as she lifts herself off of you.

sana looks at you, and she swears she falls a little more in love.

your cheek is mushed into the pillow after you had rolled over, and she thinks you're so damn cute she's going to lose it if she can't make out with you soon.

sana decides to give you a peck on the forehead, your cheek, and your lips – only to pull the blanket away from you after.

"sana!" you gasp. your eyes are open now, and you're rubbing at them while groaning dramatically, sana laughs at you with your disheveled hair, eyes squinted, and the sight of you in only the t-shirt and panties because you were too lazy to fully change back last night.

you pout and she just laughs at you again, "come on baby we gotta get up."

"how are you not tired? you came like, five times, at least," you say with annoyance, though you're pretty proud at how nice and pleasing it was to have her lose herself to you the night prior.

sana hits you with a pillow, "and I still have more energy to get up lazy bum! come on, I'm hungry!" she whines. you scoff lightheartedly and throw the pillow at her face, using that as a distraction and quickly pinning her down on the bed,

it's a swift movement, a short moment, but sana already feels the familiar aching feeling between her legs.

"mmm, me too," you mumble, looking down at her trapped between your hands, and your right leg is in between her legs just barely making contact with her sweet spot. you bite your lower lip slightly, and sana already pulls you closer.

you both smile into the kiss, even laughing in between.

it isn't long before you trail your kisses down to her jawline, to the crook of her neck, making sure to nibble at the spot that always has her gasping. she's already panting and you lick and nip at her neck a bit more, just before pulling away quickly to slip her shirt off.

the shirt she had been wearing belonged to you, it was easy to slip off and you already had access to all of her after it was off. the marks that you had given to her were still present all over her, damn... you marked her good.

"i thought you would've at least put your panties back on," you laugh,

"oh shut up," she responds.

you laugh again before getting back to work.

your first thought is to immediately make your way to her tits, and so you do. your lips land on her left nipple, and a sharp moan is heard from sana as soon as you do so. your right-hand plays with her other tit, groping it, squeezing it – just the touch of your hands and fingers on her chest is enough for her to lose herself in the moment.

she's gasping, she's groaning, and it's the best fucking way to start a saturday morning.

you toy with the right tit again, and then it feels right for you to go at it with your tongue. sana is whimpering at the feeling, gripping at your already messy hair, making it even worse, but it's worth it because the feeling is just so damn amazing.

your lips and hands work at her chest for a while, but now you're craving something sweeter. and so, your tongue makes its way down sana's tummy slowly, swirling around her sensitive areas that make her twitch in surprise, sucking and nipping at them to make her call out your name out of breath.

sana's body is like a monument, like a piece of art, something that takes time to really savor fully. it's something you admire, love, cherish, and devote your all to.

you make your way down the beauty that you're so glad to call your lovely wife of two years, and the familiar sight of her center is right in front of you. you plant slow, sensual kisses on the inside of her thighs, her back arches a bit and you smile.

"baby, please." she whines, "need your mouth."

"mhm."

your tongue comes into contact with her clit, and her hand shoots back to your hair, pushing you deeper her head sinks into the pillows, eyes closing. she's losing herself to you and you're losing yourself as you go down on her, just as it has always been.

you've been sucking on her clit for a bit now, and your fingers have been assisting by plunging into her as you lash your tongue against her pussy.

"god, fuck- oh my god... baby i'm-" sana can barely make out a proper sentence, she's trying to encourage you and it's really fucking difficult while you're going at her like that.

if the neighbors didn't hear the two of you fucking for hours last night, they're definitely going to notice the way sana sounds when she completely comes undone.

her hips are grinding into your mouth, bucking towards you, and by the way her breathing gets heavier and the way she repetitively mutters your name, she's about to cum soon.

your fingertips tighten around her thighs, and you lash your tongue against her walls, and give her that last feeling on her clit that makes her moan so loudly you might actually get a complaint from your neighbors; i mean, it wouldn't be the first time.

sana's whole body jerks a bit, and she's trembling the same way she had last night when she had reached her high. she lets her body relax into the bed, breathing heavily again and closing her eyes as you taste the rest of what she had offered from her climax.

you pull away and wipe your lip with your thumb, looking at your wife with admiration and care as her heavy breaths return to her normal breathing pace. she's lying on the bed and motioning for you to make your way back to her. she kisses you messily, and she hums as she tastes herself off your lips. sana hums in satisfaction.

"oh now you're tired?" you tease, looking at the beautiful, disheveled sana before you. she nods with a stupidly cute smile, and you can't help but plant another kiss on her lips.

sana wraps her arms around your neck, lazily deepening the kiss as your tongues explore the familiar setting they're in. you pull away for a brief moment to mumble against her lips, "let's wash up?"

"one more kiss," she whispers,

"anything for you, lovely."

sana does some persuading (she kisses you on the lips once) and manages to convince you to carry her to the living room.

you set her down so she can lean against the counter, and the high(s) from last night and twenty minutes ago seem to take a toll on her as her legs tremble slightly. you snicker and she hits your shoulder playfully.

"you need crutches?" you joke, looking at her with hearts in your eyes.

"yeah, and i'll poke you with them if you keep it up."

"sorry, sorry love." you chuckle, and you make your way over to put a hand on her cheek, the other hand just above her waist. "anything my lovely wife would like for breakfast?"

"mmm i think it's a little too late for breakfast." sana giggles, staring at your lips, "but~ maybe waffles?"

"anything for you." you smile.

it doesn't take you long to whip up some waffle batter, your signature mochi flour waffles – one of sana's favorites. you make four waffles, two for each of you. sana makes some tea and cuts up some bananas, apples, and takes out some of the honey from the fridge.

you put two of the waffles on one of the two plates that sana holds, and the other two on the other.

"thank you chef." sana says before pecking you on the cheek.

"mmm I think the chef deserves another."

"maybe at the table." she says, and you pout before she rolls her eyes and gets on her tip toes to peck your forehead.

you two sit at the table in your shared apartment after sana finishes putting the fruit in a seperate bowl and adding honey to the waffles – extra honey on your waffles, just how you like it.

you hum as you sit down with sana, reaching for the utensils and handing her some of her own before she kisses your cheek again.

"I love you." she murmurs.

"i love you more." you respond.

"never." sana argues.

"you wish."

sana rolls her eyes again before you poke at the waffles on her plate, cutting a piece for and feeding it to her. she melts as she chews on the piece, you laugh at her and you feel so content, there's a warmth in your heart as you watch her.

you two eat together, a few words exchanged while you devour the breakfast made, and moments like these remind you why you keep breathing and living – it's all for her.

sana's face is so bare, and theres something about her cozy state that makes you fall in love with her all over again.

– there's a sudden knock at the door that breaks you out of your little daydreaming, sana turns to you with her left cheek a bit puffed out due to the food she's been chewing. you shrug and tell her to wait there, making your way over to the door.

there's a familiar face, the annoying old guy that lives next to you – he looks pissed.

"sana," you start, "it's the neighbors."

"not again."

#twice x reader #anon asks #anon #sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice sana #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana smut #twice smut #twice fluff

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ellesgreenaway · 2 years

Text

say that you miss me | eddie munson

summary: a birthday party brings eddie reluctantly back together with an old high school flame he hasn’t seen in two years.

word count: 7.7k

warnings: minors dni, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie (?), swearing, afab reader, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader initially doesn’t come off very well, use of drink and mention of drugs

a/n: i’m actually a little nervous about this one as it’s really the longest fic i’ve ever written and i haven’t really written like much in this way so please be kind to me! any feedback is really appreciated :)

“Du-ude!” Steve cries out in despair when he opens his front door, both voice and face riddled in disappointment. “I told you to comb your damn hair when it’s wet! What is this shit?”

Eddie blinks deadpan, standing frigid with a large box full of an assortment of black market priced alcohol (it was half spiced rum, clearly not much of a demand for it) with his little box of the good stuff buried deep. “I think you mean to say: Hey Eddie, thanks so much for bringing hundreds of dollars of merchandise to my party.” He replies, thick with sarcasm.

Eddie could barely hear himself speak. He had only arrived a whole twenty minutes after the said start time of the party that Steve had announced to the group (and repeatedly after for the last several days leading up to it), deemed by young person status as way too early, and yet Eddie could barely make out any other sounds apart from the dreaded sound of the popped-up excuse of rock that was overplayed on every radio station booming thickly through every wall of the (quite frankly) colossal hunk of a house Steve lived in. People were bustling in and out of rooms and collecting in rooms like it was New York City, and it immediately put Eddie on edge. He arrived early to make sure he could be scarce, not the centre of attention.

Steve rolls his eyes, taking the box of beverages from Eddie’s hands. He made sure his drug box was taken out before it was no longer in his possession. “I’m just saying man, you complain time and time again about how frizzy and knotty it gets, and when I offer you sound advice, you disregard it.” Eddie is following his friend blindly through the open plan grandeur of a home Steve finds himself lucky enough to live in, half not listening because he thinks he’s never seen a house this big before, let alone been in one. He bumps into person after person, recognising them all from high school, and it’s only a few seconds before the lump in Eddie’s throat grows ever bigger as he realises this was just an excuse to throw an informal high school reunion. It had only been months for Eddie compared to years for everyone else; he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for this to be thrust upon him.

“And you still don’t listen!” Steve quips harshly, and the tone gets Eddie’s attention after a long while, making the metalhead roll his eyes with minimal care.

Eddie shrugs lightly, an end destination in sight as Steve sets down the worn cardboard onto a spacious wooden table, placed against the wall where an assortment of other drinks have already been placed in their regiment.

People are looking, and aren’t really making it subtle, either. They were probably just as surprised as Eddie was - what was he doing showing his face in Steve Harrington’s home? - but it seemed that, by some miracle, they were friends, so it was a heckle-free zone. As much as Steve’s reputation had dropped since he left school, he was still much more well-known than anyone else in this house. The shouts of murderer and satan worshipper were hung up at the door for one night only.

It was packed beyond belief, but when Eddie looks around him, he notices the entire bottom floor of the house is rid of personal photos, glass and anything that exceeds the value of ten dollars. Apparently, even at the ripe old age of twenty-one, Steve is still deathly afraid of getting his ass handed to him by his parents. Eddie knows he wouldn’t want that from Wayne, even if he were forty.

“When’s Robin getting here? I rarely see her without you.”

Steve seems to relieve himself of some of the party hosting stress that evidently seems to have piled on top of him throughout the day at the mention of his best friend’s name. “She came from work with me this afternoon, she’s just running an errand for me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, more in disbelief than shock, it was quite on brand for Harrington to get the whole gang involved for something so trivial as a party that will probably be filled with people he’s been dreading seeing since the day he graduated — everyone he went to high school with. Worse, people who finished high school before he did.

A small snort leaves Eddie’s nose, mindlessly fiddling with a small bowl of gummy bears that sat lonesome at the edge of the drinks table. It lay practically untouched, and he could only imagine that Robin had insisted some sort of food would be provided at the bash. Eddie was growing uncomfortable; he rarely spent time alone with Steve Harrington, and it’s never exceeded the point of awkwardness. It was teetering on the edge of such.

“I dread to think what you got that asswipe Henderson to do for this.” Eddie laughs, and it seems to have avoided the edge of that awkward ledge, as Steve chuckles along just as the door goes.

“He got home from college only last night and is currently hauling ass, borrowing speakers from Family Video to bring them here. Little dude can barely carry one of those things, will probably need Mike or some shit to help him.”

Steve opens the door to Robin, who looks annoyed as per with her friend, holding up several sheets of fax-printed paper. She walks through without even greeting the birthday boy, something that ignites a stifle of laughter from Eddie under his breath. That earned him his own greeting from Robin, throwing him a quick wave as she slams the paper down on the table.

“Did you print it all? That fax machine is crap at the best of times.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing a pointed look at Eddie as if she were asking for help. “Why did I just walk in with three sheets of paper, dingus? To hand in a college essay?”

As Eddie’s smirk gets wider, Steve’s scowl deepens, snatching the paper to his own hands, scanning it momentarily.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why you need a list to this stupid party, anyway. Everyone’s already here, this town hasn’t had a party in years.”

Hold up, now Eddie’s curiosity seems to be piqued. His head whips to where Steve stood on the other side of him, taking the paper for himself and carefully dissecting every name that was typed in several long columns.

His eyes stop tracking on one name, head whipping up to Steve. “You invited Y/N?”

Steve furrows his brows, taking a swig from a beer he had picked up from the table. “You, Eddie Munson, know Y/N Y/L/N?”

Eddie swallows thickly, eyes shifting to the floor, uncharacteristically nervous, the paper being shoved roughly back into Robin’s hands. Seeing that name gave him such an immediate rush of butterflies he thought he was going to barf, and he was sober.

“I need a drink,” Was all Eddie could respond to the question posed to him, taking the nearest liquor and pouring a quick shot. It was unfortunate, he realised as the liquid burns layers off his throat, that it was tequila, but anything to take the edge of what he was feeling right now.

Robin widens her eyes, shifting the tequila bottle away from her friend by a few metres, worried the whole bottle would be demolished before long if Eddie carries on like this. “How about we start slower, hm? Like a beer,” She replaces the shot glass with a can quickly.

Steve narrows his eyes suspiciously at Eddie; he knows his fair share of the feeling a drink could fix instead of facing a past flame, but the pairing of Eddie and Y/N doesn’t fit at all in his head. “When were you two a thing?”

Eddie screws his eyes shut; he knows he can’t really avoid this subject for long. “Senior year. My first one.”

A small but triumphant cheer leaves Steve’s lips, clearly already on the edge between tipsy and slurring, his hand coming down to clap proudly on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Didn’t take you for goody two shoes to be your type man, but then again, how I ever dated the smartest girl in Hawkins beats me.”

Cringing and deciding he was officially too sober to take part in this conversation about his past love life, he takes his belongings, eyes drawn to the garden door.

“Surely someone needs some weed by now right?” He asks rhetorically, but turns to Robin with pleading eyes, who just shrugs bemused.

So much for these new friends.

Thankfully for Eddie, half the people at this party who were already drunk and looking for a little boost to keep the night going had somehow remembered Eddie was the drugs guy, not the accused murderer guy, and a small queue had formed at the bottom of the garden as he got on with what he was used to doing the whole of highschool: living in the darkness dealing the bad stuff to the angels of society.

It was such a monotonous process, asking what was needed, sorting it out into the numerous small translucent bags, opening his hand and waiting as the exchange was made. His head stayed down the entire time, so over the game of which Hawkins sweetheart wanted an experience of the dark side. It also depersonalised it for him, made him feel less guilty for doing what he did. He knew the risks of these things, but he didn’t have a choice. Being working class and only having a minimum wage job at The Hideout meant he was the lowest of the low. Not many options are handed to a young man with no savings and only a highschool diploma to his name.

“I had always hoped that something better for you would come along apart from this, Eddie.” Lulled a sweet tone, almost dripping with it, dancing into Eddie’s ears. His head snapped up. The sweetness was all too familiar to him, something he had occasionally dreamt of in the last few years.

And yet, dreams don’t really amount to the feeling of seeing you again. Except, it wasn’t the exact replica of the young woman he had seen leave Hawkins for college. You were rougher on the edges, a cigarette balancing between your index and middle finger, the smoke of it wafting up into your hair and around your clothes.

Eddie stifles a chortle, and he can’t help the smirk line his lips like he was seventeen again, “And I had never hoped to see someone like you smoking cigarettes when you berated me for doing the same.”

You roll your eyes, flicking the thing out of your delicate fingers, letting it fall into the damp grass. It sits there on the ground for a few seconds, burning into the green until your boot comes to crush it. Now the cigarette lays limp and surrounded by the ash of its former flame.

“It’s social only. I’m not addicted.”

The adjective almost felt like a small jab at Eddie, but he brushes it off, deciding instead with a polite smile. It was all he could manage when the beating of his heart thumped heavy in his ears and throat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Is what he settles with, but the thing is he actually meant it. It was nice to see you, however belated it may have been. And while there was a roughness he seemed to have never seen in you before, he was pleased to see that you had finally grown into your character. You were the woman you had always strived to be in highschool: unapologetically yourself, and it almost made him swoon in admiration.

Your face softens at that second, the first bricks of the wall you had built up around herself removing one by one. It was then that Eddie sees that you hadn’t really changed, no matter how grown up you had become. That same excited and slightly naïve sparkle of your eye appeared, just as you whisper back, “You too, Munson. It’s been a while.”

A wide grin began to line Eddie’s lips, and just as he were to open his mouth again, ready to dive into a nostalgic conversation and settle into memories that he cherishes so dearly to his chest, you get a fierce tap on your shoulder - more of a jab really - causing you to turn around and face whoever was disturbing Eddie’s time with you.

Another girl, someone who looks familiar but not enough for Eddie to care, along with Nancy Wheeler, who flashed Eddie a knowing little smile, eyes shifting to you, bounced up beside Eddie’s ex, grabbing onto your shoulders enthusiastically. The move almost made you fall from the surprising weight added to her back.

The unknown friend speaks first, her jaw constantly moving up and down, a fluorescent pink piece of bubblegum the one to blame for the jarring movement smacking in Eddie’s ears. “Hey, we’re about to play some poker in the basement if you wanna join,” She whines, and Eddie sighs to himself quietly. He had only managed to have forty-five whole seconds of you to himself, and you were already in high demand for your attention. It was something that harkened Eddie back to when he was coupled with her all that time ago. The girl notices Eddie sigh, her sharp gaze shifting to him, scrutinising everything about him in just a split second. “Who’s he?”

Suddenly you grow bashful, your cheeks darkening across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, averting your eyes down to the patch of grass where your cigarette lay lifeless. Your mouth opened and closed again, the speechlessness overcoming every sense in your body.

Despite the flash of hurt that pangs Eddie’s chest, he speaks up, “I’m just the drugs guy.” He informs her with fake sincerity, one she didn’t notice as her eyes light up slightly at the opportunity struck before her to turn the party up a notch.

You flash Eddie a grateful smile, turning to your friend. “He’s not just the drugs guy,” You begin, and a match of hope lights itself in Eddie. Just say we dated, say we were a thing, a fling, anything, he begs in his mind. “This is Eddie Munson. We…We um- We went to school together. His mom used to clean my house.” You say bluntly, and the match in Eddie dies out quickly.

Suddenly Eddie is reminded why he and you never worked out in the first place; not only did you ever manage to admit to one single person that you and Eddie were together, no, scrap that, in love, with one another, but it reminded him of a time more peaceful than what he’d been through in the years since you. His mother no longer being around was the hardest pill to swallow.

Seeing the disappointment fill Eddie’s eyes, you attempt to reach your arm to Eddie, and he’s letting you, showing no signs of resistance to the attempt of comfort, but you stop yourself just short of his bicep. The hesitation is all too clear all throughout you, body and face and all, and Eddie isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He doesn’t need to be reminded by the first (and so far only) person he ever loved to tell him through everything but words that he wasn’t good enough.

Eddie lets in a sharp breath of the late autumnal air, the release of it creating a pillow of cold air that wisps around his face. “I best clock in a break, it seems custom has dried up for now.” He announces, as usual with an air of humour laced in with it, but as his eyes shift to avoid yours, he catches Nancy’s instead, who frowns with a level of concern that was equivalent to pity, and Eddie was certainly not in the mood for that.

“Hey Eddie, come play po-” You begin to ask, but Eddie was fast leaving the garden, which has slowly become unbearably stifling despite the chill creating thousands of small goosebumps underneath the leather protection of his jacket.

That drinks table was most certainly going to be raided.

You were glad to see Eddie again, you really were - you felt like after so many years being lost and bewildered, trying to find your footing in this weird world, seeing him again felt like she became grounded slightly again. You were really home now.

“So, that’s the infamous Eddie Munson,” Mused Wendy, a friend from college who’d come home with you for the weekend, sharing with you and Nancy an exciting wide smile, almost dying to hear the words that you wanted Wendy and Nancy to play matchmaker.

Wincing, you push her animated friend off of yourself, traipsing slowly back to the house where Eddie had well by now disappeared into. It would be near impossible to find him again in all this space with so many people in it.

Nancy pulls a puzzled face to the pair of friends, “Wait, you liked Eddie too? I just thought he had a massive crush or something.”

“Huh! Liked? The girl was in love with him, Nance. Spent her entire first semester in freshman year wallowing in our dorm for no reason until I finally got it out of her.”

Nancy was even more confused by the statement, and the journalistic instinct in her begged for more information, linking her arm through yours as they carried on their walk back to the loud wall of sound. “What happened between you guys?”

You sighed, looking down at a small chip that’s appeared in her nail polish since coming to the party. As much as it was nice to see Eddie again, reliving the mistakes of your past, and making them again wasn’t something that screamed 21st birthday to you, even if it wasn’t your birthday.

Still, you knew if you weren't going to say now, Nancy would be bugging you until she gave all the details and more. At least now she had control over how much you could reveal. You hadn’t even told Wendy everything, just the basics. “We dated in senior year. I was…concerned with how we’d look together. To everyone else. I knew it wouldn’t help my social status, basically.” You admit guiltily, and you knew that Nancy was smart enough to put the missing pieces of the jigsaw together, and her eyes widen with shock and a slight disappointment when she eventually does.

It made you sting. Yeah, you weren't proud of what you did either.

“And you just…what, haven’t spoken to him since then? Senior year of highschool?” Nancy exclaims out loud, and you try not to notice the sharp daggers Wendy points at the eldest Wheeler sibling, but you shrug it off, the guilt swimming in your lungs.

It was going to drown you.

Shrugging your two friends off your shoulders, you turn to them, a fierce look in your eyes, switching between them and the sight of the dozens of college students all crammed together dancing to whatever was playing. “Will there be lots and lots of booze at this poker game?”

Wendy smirks slightly, grabbing your hand and yanking you back inside the house, the once barely distant thumps of the music (you swore it was quieter before she came out into the garden) now distinctly deafening, feeling your organs jump with you in your body in time with the beat of the tunes. Nancy wasn’t far behind, more cautious than the impulsive actions of your freshman roommate and much more aware that there were other people attending too, but the busyness of the atmosphere has you not thinking straight.

That and the fact that Eddie Munson was at any given place in this house right now.

Approaching the drinks table where they earlier dropped off a polite bottle of wine (it had already been drunk), Wendy grabs three clean plastic shot glasses, reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila standing nearest to her.

Nancy screws her face up, waving her hand in near total dismissal.

“Oh my God Wendy, you’re trying to kill me. I need a chaser if I’m gonna be forced to shot that.”

Laughing with an almost cynical undertone, Wendy raises the shot glass right under both Nancy and your noses. Both of you share the same look of dread.

“I know none of these small-town Indiana dorks apart from you two, so if I’m gonna have a good time, you’re gonna get wasted with me and we mess around, ‘kay?”

Well, you couldn’t really disagree with that doctrine.

Flinging back shot after shot, the music went from thumping and slightly unbearable beat of the music to danceable and you were even almost starting to enjoy it. You danced with your friends, well, it was dancing in their eyes, squashed among the dozens of people that amalgamated in Steve Harrington’s living room, and although the three of you were panting as you danced, the back of their necks collecting beads of sweat that eventually dripped down your necks, tickling your spines. It had been nice, for once, you thought as you waved your arms around in the crowd, grinning madly at your two friends, that you were able to fully enjoy yourself without consequence. Usually, you had practice in the morning, or study group, or you wouldn’t even be out, writing an essay until the early hours of the morning instead.

There was a slight sadness in your eyes as you danced, too. You might have been drunk and dancing like no one was watching, but she still felt the trickles of dread as the regret you had felt for the whole of freshman year for Eddie had returned in full force.

You were feeling small tears prick the back of your eyes; it came on suddenly, like a big wave at sea that looked small at first but was actually going to swallow you whole, and the dancing came too to a sudden stop.

You swallow thickly, patting your purse around your shoulder to make sure her cigarettes were packed away. “I’m um— I’m going to go for a quick smoke break, ‘kay?” You shout over the throbbing bass, and luckily your wave of emotion came at the right time, both Nancy and Wendy agreeing they’ll meet you in the basement game of poker Jonathan, Robin and Steve were at.

The lighter came in contact with the cigarette as soon as you had stepped outside, and you had never been so grateful to take a puff from something you tolerated at the best of times, walking over to a step at the side of the house, letting the cool air gently penetrate your burning skin.

When holding the stick of tobacco between your two fingers, your mind once again goes to Eddie. How he brought up the fact you told him off as much as you could whenever he smoked one of his own, and how much it was true. The memory brought a bittersweet chuckle past your lips, slightly curved from the nostalgia.

You heard the sound of feet dragging against the pebbles of the driveway behind you, and you weren’t very surprised to see Eddie approach you, his trademark smirk painting his mouth, but it was more subtle than usual.

You throw him a wobbly smile, suddenly feeling the need to put the cigarette out again, so desperately insecure of doing anything remotely bad around him. Eddie, of all people, but you knew it was because these were all things you never would have done in highschool.

He was going to walk past you, step over her tight-clad legs and carry on his journey to what looks like his van, just a few metres off in the distance, but a thought bubbles up in your mind, and you knew it would bug you forever if you didn't ask there and then.

“Do you have regrets?” You ask, just above a whisper but not quite talking at a normal volume. You were nervous to ask.

Eddie turned around, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity at you. He likes to think he still knows you well enough to know that this isn’t brought on from random drunk thoughts, but he also knew he couldn’t just ask outright what got you asking questions like this. Not anymore, anyway.

He begins to walk back, standing over her just centimetres away, his eyes studying your face, which was turned down to the ground, your lips pursed desperately around the cigarette that was nearly out, looking at you drain everything you could out of it. He decides to perch next to you, leaving a big enough gap that it was considered appropriate. “Regrets about what? Mine are sorted into categories, you know.”

You smile, puffing out a laugh from your nose. “I dunno, like…Do you ever regret not going to college? For not passing senior year first time? All those little things that you could have changed, could have altered to make that slight little bit of improvement, but you just…didn’t?”

Eddie thought about your question, lighting a cigarette of his own while he pondered. “I could’ve, yeah. I could have done all that shit, got a degree, left this town, maybe studied something I knew I would be good at. But, ah, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any point in wasting my energy on the what ifs. I have shit I gotta deal with now, today, and that takes up enough as it is,” He inhales deep, getting lost in his thoughts while looking at you. He had never seen you so troubled, not even when you two broke up. “I feel like I could have done better, a lot of times, but do I regret it? Rarely.”

You don’t really respond, just sniff and look away again, your hand drawing through your hair delicately, but it was like it was bothering you. Everything seemed to look like everything was bothersome in a way.

“My turn,” Eddie declares, feeling like this was the only way to find out what was wrong with you. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that he hadn’t seen you in two years, or that forty-five minutes ago he wanted to be anywhere but around you. The need to act like your support dial had overwhelmed him like an instinct. This was natural. “You have never felt the need to feel regret once in your life, sweetheart.”

“Not a question.” You point out.

Eddie chuckles, holding his finger up to you, “Patience, I’m getting there,” And suddenly you turn to him, your body strong and straight, but eyes are full of worry for whatever he could possibly ask. He hopes you know him well enough to still guess it’s probably to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering you. “So you’re obviously regretting something, what is it?”

You huff heavily, and Eddie could sense your walls were going up, defending yourself from the vulnerability and insecurity you once gave herself willingly to with Eddie. You shuffled away one inch. “I haven’t seen you in two years, Munson. You can’t expect me to tell you all my worries and fears like we’re still together.”

Eddie feels the need to remind himself to be patient, swallowing thickly. He can’t help but trick himself into thinking this, looking at you, the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, making you look so ethereal with your beauty.

“You asked first, sweetheart, don’t pretend you don’t miss talking to me.” He replies, but it just seems to have frustrated you more. Eddie knows it’s not frustration directly at him, your frustrated with herself.

You look at him, eyebrows crossed, a crease diving the two of you. “So what? I— ugh! Everything is so fucking complicated!”

“With me?”

“Yes!” You cry, and you’re stood now, pacing up and down the little alley created at the side of Steve’s house. “But no, too. I…seeing you tonight has just thrown me off, that’s all. I…I can’t think straight.”

“Ah, so that’s why to your friends I’m still Eddie, a friend whose mom cleaned for your mom?” He asks, and it was petty, he knows, but the stings of pain just couldn’t help but trickle their way into the conversation. All he ever wanted from you was to just admit that you were both in love, even if it was once upon a time.

You crumple your fists as if you were containing all your anger in there, but when your head throws up to look at Eddie, who’s also stood up by now, your eyes are full of nothing but apology.

“Come on Eddie, you know I never meant that. And…And you always meant more than that to me. So did your mother. She was like family to us.”

Eddie huffs, and the dread returns to him like a bad sickness. He realises tonight, seeing you for the first time in months and months that really, he never got over you. You matter as much to him now and as you did when you were seniors sneaking around, but the insecurity fills his chest when he explores the thought that you could ever have felt the way he did.

Maybe he was too drunk. God knows you were too.

“I think I’m just gonna conduct business from my van for the rest of the night. Enjoy the party, Y/N.” He says defeatedly, walking to his van and expecting his old flame to walk in the opposite direction.

But you didn’t. You didn’t walk away, not this time.

“Well what do you want me to do, Eddie? Take back the past?! That’s impossible!” You ask as you follow him to his van, your hands flying around your face wildly. There were tears glassing over your eyeballs, and no matter how mad at you he is for hurting him, for making him feel every bit like he didn’t deserve to be loved, Eddie’s chest still tightened when he saw you like this. You run your hands through your hair again, practically ruining it, sniffing roughly. “I loved you, I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else before…and yeah, I couldn’t say it out loud when I was seventeen, and I’m sorry, I really am,” You’re looking at him dead in the eye now, any hesitation or resistance he had seen earlier in the night now completely gone, and Eddie feels a change in the electricity around the two of you when he looks back, “but you can’t punish me forever. I’m done being punished, Eddie. If you wanna move on so badly, do it.”

He thinks you’ve said this because you know deep down that the daring words that drip from your tongue edge Eddie to stay, do the complete opposite of what you’ve offered him. You’re not dumb, you’ve probably noticed the way that ever since you asked him that question at the side of the house that he’s inched closer to you with every word shared between you, nice or not. You can probably smell the mix of musky wood from his cologne and the ashy taste of cigarettes that permanently linger in his mouth, just as he can smell the sweet floral tones of your perfume, a mix of flowers and soap.

You have seen to finally have given him an out. It should have felt relieving.

Yet Eddie just couldn’t back away. He hesitates a scoff, low and scowling, tired of arguing but he has no other way to talk to you right now without wanting to just take your face in his hands and kiss those plump glossy lips of yours. “You still couldn’t even admit we were even together. We’re twenty now. Hell, almost twenty-one. Three years on and you can’t admit it!”

You’re bashful, looking down to the concrete driveway. “I don’t want them to give any more excuses to constantly pick at you.”

“Them?”

“This batshit crazy town, Munson! What do you think people will do when they find out we dated, huh? They’ll tear you apart, think you corrupted me or put your bullshit claims of satanism onto you, and I can’t help you! I’ll be in Emerson!” You say, the tear falling loose from your eye and trailing down your cheek.

Eddie blinks at you, the act of anger slowly washing away on his features. “You heard about everything then, huh?”

“I think I spent my whole summer telling people to go fuck themselves for thinking someone who likes metal and plays a kids fantasy game was capable of murder.” You says with a nervous chuckle, and Eddie’s heart rises to a flutter, staring at you with contentment, and a reminiscent reminder of the way he used to look at you when you were together; with total infatuation.

Suddenly Eddie was stuck.

He was stuck because he had finally been given an opportunity to move on from you, try and forget your face as he lived your life and you carried on with yours in Boston, but he doesn’t think he had ever imagined a more beautiful thought than thinking about you telling a stranger making comments about Eddie the murderer to do one.

He stays stuck while looking at you, leaning against the back door of his van, head staring at the cold night sky, exposing your neck, your chest heaving up and down from the exhaustion of their argument. Eddie couldn’t stop staring, momentarily parting his lips and wetting them with his tongue.

He steps closer to you. It was only one small step, barely stretching his legs before your thighs touched his. You look down again to look him in the eye once more, but differently than before, you’ve noticed the change in air, too. You noticed the way Eddie has his lips slightly parted, his chocolate doe eyes are blown open, pupil swallowing the colour almost entirely. His hand is inching closer to your cheeks, and when his palm eventually comes into contact, you feel singes of his burning hot touch, almost like fire, and it alights a small gasp from your lips, a sound that roars Eddie’s determination to life.

His thumb lowers, tracing delicately down your cheek until it reached the corner of your lips, slightly chapped and the gloss drying in odd places, all the while keeping the fierce hold of your eyes that made you soften and pant harder in anticipation.

A small smirk quirks one side of Eddie’s mouth. He has you right where he wants you, ready for him to launch onto you and get back to what you used to do in highschool, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet. “I would kiss you,” He begins, voice low and grumbling a little with the whisper, “But you might not want everyone else to know your pretty little mouth likes kissing the freak of Hawkins.”

Immediately you roll your eyes, your own hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. You take the majority of the leap, their lips in contact but not kissing when you ever so slightly take your back off the van door.

“You kiss me right this second, Munson, or I tell everyone that you cried watching Grease.”

He stifles a snort, smirk only growing wider. “We can't be having that, can we? I have a reputation to think about.”

When their lips finally connect, Eddie feels like he’s truly on fire everywhere, the touch of your lips igniting a burn that’s travelled through every vein in his body. It’s like his body has woken up again after years of being asleep, a jolt of energy surging through his nerves, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Eddie’s hands instinctively slide onto your waist as the kiss deepens, your mouths open, tongues playing with one another desperately. It was messier than Eddie had ever imagined, and definitely less romantic, but when you settle your arms around his neck, pulling on the hairs at the nape, any coherent thought about his dream reunion with you goes out of the window.

It’s possibly minutes before you finally disconnect, silently making out at the edge of a party like the teenagers they once were when you were together, but you never lose contact, your lips peppering kisses constantly on his lips and around them. Eddie is distracting himself putting his hands under your top, the cold of his hands against the warmth of your belly eliciting a high-pitched whine from you, and it’s a noise Eddie is familiar with.

It had been too long since he heard that heavenly sound.

You seemed to have kicked your thinking brain in, taking Eddie’s face between your hands and taking his lips off your neck. “Do we really wanna do this again? I…I don’t want you to beat yourself up for this.”

Eddie throws her a lust-filled smile, but the question of concern has his heart fluttering. “What did I tell you about me and regrets, darling?”

You throw him a grateful smile, but you still hold him with hesitancy. Oddly though, it’s a different kind of hesitancy than what he’s used to. He throws you a questioning look, and you sift his chocolate waves through your hands when you give in. “I want you to know that I always regretted the way I handled things with you. Because the love I felt for you…the love I feel for you, I never went about it the right way.”

Now the insecurity and fear has left Eddie, because as he looks at you, his hands enveloped in yours and flush against your sternum, trying not to think about those tits he’d missed so much swallowing half the conjoined hands as they squeezed together, he’d finally felt like he understood her side after all this time. You were just as insecure.

“Let me show you then, sweetheart,” He pleads quietly, pressing kisses to each corner of your mouth, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Happily relenting, you flush your lips against his, connecting once more, but this time it felt more comforting to the both of them, like coming home at long last. It wasn’t long before your mouths opened for one another, Eddie’s tongue in your mouth and sucking your bottom lip as you mewled in response. His cock twitches when he hears you make those noises, thinking he’d never hear them again yet here he was, against the back door of his van with his lips attacking yours, and your hips pressing into his crotch, making him grunt in response.

“Fuck Eddie,” You pant, already breathless when your lips aren’t on Eddie’s for three long seconds, and Eddie wants to throw his head back if it weren’t for your hands tangled in his hair. “As much as I’m happy to show everyone how much I love me a bit of Eddie Munson, this is a bit public for me.”

Eddie feels himself smirk into your neck, travelling down and he feels his chin touch the top of your tits, and he tilts his head down to kiss them gently. The traces of fingers and fiddling of clothes that so desperately want to be taken off but can’t in the open driveway with random people walking in and out of the house. Your touch feels like feathers along Eddie’s skin, and it makes him just want you more with every growing second.

He accidentally bumps your temple as he grabs onto the back door handle that stood beside you, opening it roughly. “Get in the back sweetheart,” He says lowly, taking his hands and putting them on your waist as he gently hoists you into the back. It was a place of small haven for the both of you, and the reason why Eddie always kept his van so clean compared to everything else he owned.

When you’re in you hold your hand out for Eddie to get in himself, giggling when he shuts it and takes hold of your waist again, finding it impossible to stay away from it, his fingers dancing delicately up your top, slowly making its way up your ribs and to the underwire of your bra. Your small gasp of surprise only encourages Eddie further, his hand reaching to the top of your bra and pulling your tits out, taking your nipple between his fingers and rubbing slowly, your head throwing back to the side of the van as you moan with more vigour, mouth open agape as you breathe heavily.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re always so noisy for me,” He groans, pinching your nipple for a high-pitched cry, which you gave him with no resistance. His cock lays stiff in his jeans, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s able to wait before he cums in his pants, so his other hand snakes down to where your tights and knickers scantily cover your pussy, rubbing over your clit and hearing you cry out into the crook of his ear.

He does that for a few seconds, switching between making sure each breast sat peaked and awake for him while running your clit, the wetness of your pussy quickly bleeding through the thin layers that protected you, his hips rutting against your thigh as he groans in every rhythmic motion of his hips. Your lips are always on him somehow, and just as Eddie feels like he’s going to burst, feeling his orgasm starting to bloom, his hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squeezing before he huskily asks you to jump, your legs wrapped around his waist while you work on getting your tights off, leaving them stretch just below your knees.

Eddie drags his lip between his teeth when he looks down to your panties, the large spot of wet ever so distinct to him, even in the pitch black darkness of the night.

Finally deciding to relieve himself, Eddie uses the one hand he’s not using holding onto you to take his belt off and undo his zipper, moaning with volume as he takes his cock between his hands, squeezing at his base lightly, all the while staring at you, your eyes filled with intense arousal.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please,” You whisper, your forehead resting against his in a sweet manner of intimacy in the heat and sweat of the activity you were both partaking in.

He drags his cock slowly against the thin layer of panties, your moan making him twitch even in his hand.

“I— shit, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart, if you say that you miss me,” He says thickly, his fingers toying with the edge of your knickers.

Forehead still on his, you kiss his cheek gently, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth and then to his lips when you reply, that twinkle in your eyes returned and brighter than ever in the darkness of the back of Eddie’s van. “I miss you Eddie. Jesus fuck, I’ve missed you every day. Not one day I didn’t think about you.”

He seems satisfied with the answer, kissing gently on your lips while he puts your panties to one side, delicately prodding your hole with his finger, and you clenched around him perfectly, dripping wet and waiting for his cock to fill you up all the way.

You both moan loudly when Eddie ruts his hips up, thrusting all the way. He swore he’d never forget how perfect you feel, how you managed to always fit him just perfectly, the right fit for him, but with him inside you once again for the first time in a few tears, it’s like a memory that had come to life once more.

He thrusts with a consistent confident pace, your mouths conjoined to silence the sounds of panting and morning as the van rocked back and forth as he fucked you against the sound of the van, your hands occasionally pulling on his hair when he ruts deeply to your sweet spot.

When you throw your head to the side, your moans getting more pant-like and heavy, and Eddie remembers your queue that you were close, and he was determined not to cum until he had satisfied you entirely.

“Come on baby, I know you wanna come for me. Miss me—fuck, miss me so much you’ll be such a good girl and cum just for me, yeah?” He grunts, his speech coming in time with his thrusts, and your loud moan in response tells him you’re close, really close, his thumb coming to massage circles onto your clit once more.

You moan again, tugging on Eddie’s hair, “I’m gonna cum Eddie.”

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Cum then, sweetheart. Make me proud,” And it undoes your knot, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami wave, Eddie feeling himself come undone just when he feels your juices drip down his cock and onto the thighs of his jeans, riding out his high with you by rocking gently, slowly coming to a stop when your moans run out and you tiredly hang your head into Eddie’s neck.

Kissing you once again when he pulls out, a whine of sensitivity leaving your mouth, he pulls your knickers and tights back up, stuffing himself back into his jeans before taking your hand and sitting you down on the small black loveseat he had bought for the band whenever they had practice.

Your head rest against his shoulder, hands mindlessly playing with the zip of his leather jacket while he strokes the top of your hair, pressing occasional kisses into it.

“I meant what I said, you know.” You whisper into the silent air, the van thick and muggy and smelling of sweat and sex that should have been enough to get Eddie out, but he was too tired to care. “I miss you everyday. And I-I fucked up, I know, but I wanna try again, with you,” You sat up now, looking at Eddie straight in the eye. “If you’d let me.”

Eddie smiles, full of love and adoration, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as if they were made of gold. “I’d be stupid if I let the love of my fucking life get away from me like this again.”

tagging some people i love!

@will-on-the-internet @prettyboyeddiemunson, @benedictscanvas @indouloureux @lilacletter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ansgt #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fic #ruby writes

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toast-the-unknowing · 4 months

Text

on fanfic plagiarism

Almost five years ago, in January of 2019, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "Word on the Street," had been plagiarized.

I remember that the stolen fic was posted in k-pop fandom, though not what specific band it related to -- I'm not into k-pop, or really into pop music at all.

I remember that the person who messaged me told me that they had found my fic because the plagiarist had a reputation for stealing fic, so when they'd posted a new story, this person had known to do some digging.

I don't remember what the plagiarist's username was. I remember scanning the stolen story, trying both to read every detail and to avoiding taking any of it in, because looking at that right-but-wrong, not-quite-there, uncanny-valley-ness of it made me queasy.

I remember being darkly amused that the plagiarist had cut out the reference to the main character suffering physical abuse at the hands of his father -- I guess it didn't make sense in the context of the new character. It's almost like the story wasn't written for him. It's almost like someone wrote the story about Adam Parrish, instead.

I filed an AO3 complaint, on the grounds that this was a blatant and unarguable violation of their plagiarism policy. Within twenty-four hours, they got back to me, and the story was removed.

It was a weird, uncomfortable, gross feeling, knowing someone had taken words I'd written and passed them off as their own.

But at the same time -- "Word on the Street" was a silly thing I dashed off pretty quickly, during a period of my life when I was doing a lot of writing. It hurt to have it stolen. It was a violation. But…I had other words, that were more important to me. Maybe that was a buffer.

Last month, about six weeks ago, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "there's talk going 'round this town," had been plagiarized.

I was, bizarrely, amused.

I was less bizarrely furious. I was understandably, relatably, I would say rationally, furious. But in a way (and as always, when I say in a way, I am calling back to the scholars of overthinkingit.com for whom in a way is meant as the thing I have just said or am about to say is false) -- in a way, I was amused.

The plagiarist clearly did a 'find and replace' on the character names, to replace Adam and Ronan's names with those of k-pop characters. They did a bad job of it, since the name "Ronan" still appears in one paragraph and the name "Parrish" still appears in two paragraphs. The fic is here, in case anyone doesn't believe me, under the name "i do(n't remember)". At first when I complained about the fic on tumblr, I didn't mention the name, or which fic they'd stolen, because I was worried about anyone…I don't know, making a scene. I've stopped caring. AO3 user springguk is bad at find and replace and they should feel bad. About their computer skills, and also about their blatant plagiarism.

springguk also did some more edits to my fic, I have to give them credit for that. I wrote "there's talk going 'round this town" within a relatively short time span, for me. I tend to either finish things within one week, or else take several months. I believe this one took about five or six weeks completely to write -- I was very inspired.

(I was inspired, specifically, by the press coverage of Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves 'discovering' they might be 'accidentally' married. I mention that in my author's notes. springguk doesn't mention what 'inspired' them in their author's notes. I wonder how they talk about it with friends. They do, in their author's notes, include a link to their ko-fi, and a request that people buy them a coffee.)

If I'd taken longer with this fic, I might have made some edits. Even at the time, I knew I was being self-indulgent in letting the scene with my teenage female OC talk at such length with Ronan about what his non-canonical film career had meant to her, a person the audience didn't care about. But I had fun. I liked Fox. I didn't want to cut her, and what the hell, it was fanfic. I decided to self-indulge.

I was darkly amused to find that springguk did cut out the scene with Fox from their plagiarized version. Maybe springguk is a more disciplined editor than I am. Maybe springguk just didn't have a good k-pop character to map Fox onto. Maybe springguk didn't even realize that Fox was an OC. Do you know anything about the fandom you steal fics from, springguk? I can't help but wonder. Have you read The Raven Cycle? Do you care about teenage OCs who steal cars because of fake films that are clearly meant to be stand-ins for The Fast and the Furious franchise?

Maybe springguk just didn't give a fuck, because none of their heart and soul was poured into this fic. I cared too much about Fox. springguk doesn't care about a single word in the fic they published. Why would they? They didn't write it.

I'm being a little mean in naming them so many times. But I'm able to, this time, because although I filed a plagiarism complaint with AO3 six weeks ago, springguk's stolen fic "i do(n't remember)," is still available to read on AO3 to this very day. I don't have to wrack my brains to remember what their username was, or which k-pop band they recast my work with. I can just look at their fic with its 24 comments and 151 kudos. Hell, maybe that fic is even better than mine, if you don't mind that by cutting the sequence with Fox they've sacrificed a fairly substantial development in the romantic relationship, and also if you don't care that at one point the characters names switch from Jeongguk and Taehyung to Ronan and Parrish, because seriously, for fuck's sake, if you're going to steal a fic at least do a goddamn ctrl+f at the end.

I was mad. I was amused. I made a complaint that the AO3, six weeks later, has still not acted on. I mostly moved on.

Tonight, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now," had been plagiarized.

I wanted to vomit.

I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons online with friends tonight; I spent the entire call unable to focus on anything anyone was saying. I had to keep reminding myself that I was on camera and my face wasn't supposed to look like that.

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is the first of a series of, currently, twelve fics. skytoseungmin, the person who stole it to pass it off as their own work, knew this. Their stolen version was published as part one of a series, though they hadn't published any of the sequels. Presumably, they wanted to wait long enough to make it plausible they'd gone and written the follow ups, instead of just finding them.

skytoseungmin likely didn't know that this fic and this series are intensely personal. They didn't know that the apartment that Adam -- Seungmin, in their ill-gotten version -- lives in, that was based in part off of the apartment I lived in for a year in Pico-Robertson with talldecafcappuccino. They didn't know that the 7-Eleven Adam buys coffee at is the same one I used to tease talldecafcappuccino for buying coffee at. They didn't know that the strip club where Adam and Ronan have their humorously ill-timed romantic revelation outside of, that was the strip club I used to use as a landmark when giving people directions for how to navigate the confusing as fuck freeway exit I lived near, which once caused me to accidentally tell my highly Catholic parents "just go past the strip club and you're good!"

skytoseungmin didn't know that the apartment Adam -- sorry, Seungmin, thoroughly, they were better with find and replace than springguk -- lived in, was also based off of my ex's apartment in Palms, where I as the mere visiting girlfriend was never allowed to park in the parking lot. Where I would sometimes have to spend twenty or thirty minutes circling the neighborhood before I could find parking, often a walk of several minutes away. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when Ronan's car get towed from a McDonald's parking lot, that that was a specific McDonald's on Venice Boulevards, the same one my ex's asshole roommate used to just roll his eyes and say that I should park at. skytoseungmin doesn't know that I once wished passionately that I had just parked in that McDonald's parking lot and risked getting towed, on the occasion that a man followed me several unlit blocks from my car. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when I talk about how helping someone park is the truest love language there is in Los Angeles, that that was what I meant. Has skytoseungmin ever had to circle to half an hour to find parking in Los Angeles? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone enough to do that, instead of saying, fuck it, they can come to me or we're breaking up? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone in Los Angeles enough, to do as my ex did, and come running as fast as humanly possibly when their girlfriend called them whispering and crying on the phone, someone's following me, please, I'm scared, I wish I just parked at the McDonald's?

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is a very personal fic.

It isn't half as personal as some of the fics that come after.

skytoseungmin marked their plagiarized version of the fic as part one of a series. Were they planning on stealing part two, where I, through an alternate universe characterization of Ronan Lynch, dig into my experience of grief and trauma surrounding my grandmother's dementia? Were they planning on stealing any of the explicit fics, where I play with kink and desire in ways I haven't even exposed to my actual sexual partners, but where I felt able to through the guise of fandom? What else was skytoseungmin planning on stealing, with charming little author's notes apologizing for how they missed the fandom-relevant date they were shooting for, because they were so busy with exams, tee-hee! Why the excuses, skytoseungmin? how long does it take you to ctrl+f, even if you are more thorough about it than springguk?

If I seem too accusatory and mean-spirited toward skytoseungmin, well, the LA verse is a very personal fic.

And it's also, it turns out, only one of eight different fics that they stole from me.

I didn't even notice at first, to be honest. I was too stunned. But my friend Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went to my defense and clicked through to the author's page, while I was still reeling at the horrible possibilities of part one of a series. It turned out, of eight fics on skytoseungmin's author's page…I had written every single one of them.

Some were short and pretty lighthearted, things I hadn't had to invest too much of myself into -- like I said, sometimes, I can write a fic in under a week.

Other things…

They stole the space western AU.

I don't think I can articulate to any human being how much that hurt me, to look at it, to see.

I wrote that as a thank you gift for someone who donated to Fandom Trumps Hate.

I spent nearly two years of my life on it -- two years during which, because of mental health issues and life situation changes, my words per year dropped precipitously. I still haven't recovered. I still think of what a failure I am for not writing more, currently, actively, and I remember how the space western AU was both a symptom of that and a defiance of it: yes, writing has become fucking hard, fucking NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE, but I'm still doing it, goddamn it, you can't stop me, even if all I produce is the tiniest trickle of words a month. it can still add up, somehow, if we just keep TRYING.

To see the space western AU, casually nestled amongst a half dozen other fics that were all apparently casually dashed off in the same month…I know it was theft, I know it was a lie, but it still felt like a slap in the face, why can't you write this fast?

Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went on a campaign of commenting on all of skytoseungmin's (my) fics, and I am so thankful. The k-pop fans who heard Jessie have been reaching out, to her, to me, to each other on Twitter, and I am so thankful for them too. skytoseungmin has deleted all of their (my) fics on AO3, and their entire AO3 account, and their entire twitter, apparently. Maybe they were hoping to get enough clicks to parlay them into some kind of book deal, and they'd now rather give up what was a low investment effort on their part than be associated with accusation of plagiarism.

I suppose they can always start over with a new user name and someone else's fics if they really want to.

I suppose they can always start over with a new username and my fics, if they really want to.

And after all, AO3 has still not reached out to me about springguk, and "i do(n't remember)" is still sitting there. Maybe springguk is also going for a book deal. Who knows?

Why complain about any of it?

In a way* (and remember what "in a way" means), isn't it a compliment, if someone loves the words I wrote, even if they don't know it was me that wrote them? toast-the-unknowing and shinealightonme, if they're the same name (and they are), then why not springguk or skytoseungmin, too?

Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Does everyone just have their work stolen from them, all of the time? Is that simply the cost of doing business in an era and an ecosystem where we all can copy and paste twenty-four thousand words with greater ease than our ancestors could transcribe a single phrase? Are more prolific, more famous, more successful fan authors looking at my piteous cries and thinking, bitch, you've only been ripped off by k-pop fans ten times, come back when you have real problems?

And yet in a month, a year, a whole life phase of not being able to write as much as I would like to, because of my health, because of my work, to have someone else just casually pass off the words I have managed to eke out, as though they have no value, as though it were no more than photo copying a shitty flier to stick under a windshield wiper…

I can't imagine springguk or skytoseungmin give a shit how I feel about any of this. At best, they roll their eyes; at worst they laugh to know they hurt me -- and what's the difference between the two? I'll never know either way.

I know that some of the people they duped do care, and are also upset. That helps. And also, it doesn't help.

I just fucking hate all of this, and if all I have are words, and if my words are valuable enough for someone to steal, then here, here are enough of them to choke on. I know I did.

#long post #fandom #plagiarism #that whole plagiarism thing

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amakumos · 1 year

Text

kiss and cry — yang jungwon.

synopsis. At the age of 22, Yang Jungwon wants to retire. The ice, which was what he considered his second home, does not seem as welcoming as it used to be. Figure skating is no longer fun - the sport that he devoted his entire childhood to seems more of a chore, rather than a passion. He claims that this season will be his last as a competitive figure skater - that is, until he meets you, who somehow makes him fall in love with the ice (and you) again.

genre. fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, coaching abuse and unhealthy training habits, jungwon is 22, reader is 21, and both compete for south korea. set during the 2025/2026 figure skating season. major character retirement (wait and find out)

word count. 22k

author's note. gosh. am i surprised that the most i've ever written is a figure skating fic? no, not particularly. i was watching so many of yuzuru hanyu's programs while writing this and oh god. only fanyus will understand the immense impact the beat drop into the chsq has in pyc seimei. fucking hell that's powerful. anyways, this fic is my baby and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ^_^ here's a playlist u can listen to while reading if you'd like and feel free to lmk what u think!

ONE. negative (goe.)

Where is home to Yang Jungwon?

Jungwon thinks that he has two.

First, he would obviously say his apartment. The plush couch, the comfort of his own bed, and sunlight peeking through the curtains in the morning – Jungwon is comfortable when he is home.

His second home, albeit a little bit unconventional – is the ice skating rink. His blades gliding against the smooth ice, cool air hitting his face as he skates, the chatter of his training partners ringing in his ears when he’s trying to focus that he finds annoying when he’s trying to focus.

But his second home seems a little less welcoming and comfortable lately. The passion that he once held for the sport that he loved seems to be diminishing day by day, like a fire that’s almost been put out.

Jungwon devoted his entire life to this sport. Maybe a little too much of it, even.

His childhood was seemingly swept away by the ice. Instead of running around the playground, making friends with other children his age, Jungwon was spending hours of his day jumping and spinning, wearing boots with blades on them.

At one point, even falling over on a jump that he’d have to repeat for hours seemed like something he could use as determination. I’ll be able to do it the next time I jump it, was his thought.

But now, when he falls, all he feels is that he wants to quit.

Jungwon knows that if he gave up that easily when he was younger, he wouldn’t even be half the figure skater he was today. Standing on top of that podium didn’t bring him the same amount of joy as when he stood there a couple years ago. A small smile would grace his lips, showing courtesy – but deep inside, Jungwon could only describe the feeling he felt as numbness.

Because what did all these medals truly mean to him? Success brought him joy a couple years ago, but now it only puts pressure on him.

Pressure to do better. Pressure to get the scores that he deserved. Pressure to show the other skaters that he was better.

Figure skating is no longer fun for Yang Jungwon.

The sport feels draining – as if every minute spent skating on that sheet of ice sucked all the energy out of him. The movements that he did with such vigour just a couple years ago now seem sloppy to him, even if they aren’t to the audience. His limbs move around robotically, without elegance or gracefulness.

Yang Jungwon feels like a robot.

Programmed to do this quad lutz at a certain moment. Programmed to execute the hydroblade to perfection a few seconds later. Even programmed to smile brightly, holding up the gold medal while standing at the top of the podium when he doesn’t feel a single emotion at all.

So, Jungwon thinks it’s time to hang up his skates.

Yes, 22 might be a little too early to end his career as a competitive figure skater, but Jungwon is done. He’s tired of the ice, which is something that he never thought he’d say, or even think. The ice doesn’t bring him joy, and competitions don’t bring the adrenaline and thrill that he’d used to feel. Winning doesn’t make him feel pride. Instead, he feels burdened.

“Next season will be my last season as a competitive figure skater,” he tells his coach, Irene.

Irene isn’t shocked. But she’s strongly against Jungwon’s decision. Jungwon knew she’d react like this.

“You’re so young, Jungwon! You still have a couple of years to go – you can make it to the next Olympics too. You’ll be 26 then, and you can… you know, retire after skating at the biggest stage.”

“I will be skating at the biggest stage next year, if I make it into the Olympic team. Then, I will be retiring at the biggest stage.” Jungwon tells her, lacing up his skates. Even tying the laces feels frustrating – and Jungwon knows that he truly does not want to do this anymore.

“But you have to give a reason, Jungwon. I know you’re tired, and you lack passion for skating, but why don’t you just take a break? Maybe you’ll regain your motivation, regain your passion for the sport. You’re already one of the greats – you could be even greater.”

Irene would consider Jungwon to be her star pupil. He’s stuck with her ever since he swapped coaches when he was 8 – and he’s never spoken a word about wanting to be coached by anyone else. In fact, Jungwon was one of Irene’s first students after she herself retired from competition. Jungwon was her first student to podium internationally, first student to land a quad in competition, and first student to make it to the Olympics in 2022, back when Jungwon was 18.

He placed 6th. Not bad, for his first ever Olympics.

Jungwon remembers the day when he was called up to the South Korean Olympic team. All he felt was pride. On every young athlete’s bucket list, being able to compete in the Olympics was at the top of that list, and Jungwon was no exception. He remembers being an emotional wreck, crumpling into tears of joy. The Olympics was a figure skater’s biggest stage. Skating on Olympic ice seemed unreal, until Jungwon found out that he would be doing exactly that.

Jungwon wants to feel the exact feeling he felt when he skated on Olympic ice. He wants to feel pride, passion, and joy – not emptiness. Jungwon knew that he was competing with the best of the best, and a medal at the Olympics would be incredible, but Jungwon just wanted to skate. The Olympics seemed to be like a mark for him – he’s made it. He’s skated at the biggest stage for an athlete, and no matter the result, he would be grateful and happy that he was able to compete on Olympic ice.

4 years ago, Jungwon just wanted to skate.

Now, Jungwon wants to leave the ice behind.

You could be even greater. Irene’s words have no impact on Jungwon. He doesn’t think he has any desire to become greater. If anything, Jungwon just wants to learn how to love this sport again – but he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to.

“That’s the problem, Irene. I don’t want to be greater anymore. I’m tired of this. I have no passion in what I do – why would I continue doing something that I don’t love?”

“Jungwon–”

“I don’t think anything can change my mind, Irene. I’m really done,” he sighs. Jungwon gives his coach a small, sad smile. “So… let’s make the next season great, hmm? I’ll go out with a bang.”

Irene gives Jungwon a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.”

“I have music ideas already,” Jungwon says, and Irene nods. “Tell me what you have in mind, and we can go through it with Taemin.”

“I was thinking for the short program, A Walk In The Skies by Joe Hisaishi. From the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack, and for the free, World Dreams. Also by Joe Hisaishi. A couple fans from a few years back told me that they’d like to see me skate to those songs, so… I’ve decided I will. They gave me a list of other options, but… I like these two the best.”

“Okay. I’ll talk with Taemin about them.” Irene says, and Jungwon notices the look on his coach’s face. He knows that she’s not happy with his decision, because Irene’s never really liked people who give up. Jungwon thinks that to her, his decision seems to be as if he’s saying that he’s giving up.

In one way, he is. But now that Jungwon thinks about it, does he have any other goals in this sport? He’s won Nationals. He’s won Grand Prix Final. He’s won Four Continents. He’s won Worlds. He’s been to the Olympics. The one thing he hasn’t done is win an Olympic medal, and maybe he’ll be able to do it next season. But Jungwon thinks that he’s checked off most of the boxes on his figure skating career goal list, and combined with the fact that he’s simply got no love for the sport left, he thinks hanging up his skates is the best idea.

He gives Irene an apologetic look, even though he feels like he doesn’t really have to apologise for anything. He then makes his way onto the rink, skating a few laps around to warm up.

He skates his program from last season as practice, first jumping a quad salchow that he lands cleanly. The sound of the blades scratching the surface of the ice no longer brings him comfort, but Jungwon continues skating around the rink as he enters into a back counter triple axel, landing it cleanly as well.

Jungwon executes the rest of the elements well, with no falls or underrotations on his jumps. He presses his lips into a thin line when he finishes skating his program, putting his hands on his hips as he sighs.

“That was good.” Irene said. “Gold medal worthy.”

“Thanks.” Jungwon replies. He would usually feel nothing but joy when Irene would compliment his skating like that.

But Jungwon finds that a gold medal is something he does not desire anymore.

TWO. triple double camel spin axel

The off-season is great.

The pressure of competition is gone, and you’re able to rest without intense preparation and training for a couple weeks before you’re back to your usual routine.

You do decide to head to the rink today though, just so you can get in some skating time with your new coach.

Irene Bae was your idol growing up. When you saw her skate at the Olympics from the comfort of your own home at the age of 4, you knew that you wanted to be like her. Graceful and elegant, yet powerful and strong on the ice.

Your parents enrolled you in skating classes at the age of 3, and it was like the ice was practically calling your name. Your first coach, Hyuna, had told your parents that you had talent — and encouraged them to let you continue skating.

And so you did. As the years went by, what your first coach said proved to be true — you did have talent. You won medal after medal, and you were said to be a rising star.

So when the opportunity arose for you to be coached by none other than your idol, you of course had to take it.

When she complimented you on your skating, you nearly screamed. Having the person you’ve admired for your whole life telling you that you were doing great gave you a huge confidence boost — and you’d like to think that her words encouraged you and made you do even better than you usually did during your free skate at Worlds.

Being coached by the Irene Bae seemed surreal. She won one silver, one bronze medal at the Olympics, was a 2 time worlds winner and a six-time national champion. She was even known for being an incredible coach, coaching skaters like Yang Jungwon, and Kim Jiwon — who would now be your training mates.

You feel nothing but excitement when you enter the Taereung International Skating Rink, and you hear the sound of blades across ice that brings a smile to your lips. You see Irene, standing rinkside with her arms crossed, and skating on the rink, is Yang Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years. 6th at the 2022 Olympics, a great finish for someone who was only 18 at the time. He also just won Worlds, and was a five-time national champion.

Yang Jungwon is an incredible skater. His movements on the ice are as fluid and soft as water, but when he jumps, he’s incredibly powerful, like a rocket taking off. You’ve seen many people say that Jungwon’s one of the few ‘complete skaters’ — those who can combine artistry with jumping seem to be extremely rare nowadays.

He’s one of those skaters that can get you mesmerised the second he steps onto the ice, and when he finishes his program, loud applause resounds throughout the arena, with tons of people throwing cat plushies onto the ice.

Jungwon is incredibly talented. Thinking about the fact that you two are going to be training mates brings a smile to your face — all the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon went quite well. You remember his pleasant voice and his kind smile, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents and could make anyone swoon.

You make your way over to Irene, who turns her head and greets you with a kind smile when she sees you. “(Name)!” she beams, wrapping you in a hug. “Nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Irene!” you say, and she smiles at you. “I’m excited to be working with you.” she tells you, and her words just fill you up with joy.

“Thank you so much,” you beam. “I’m excited to be coached by you.” A smile graces Irene’s lips at your words. “Jungwon’s on the ice right now, with Taemin. He’s just learning the last part of his choreography for his short program for next season.” she tells you, and you nod.

“Jiwon’s gone for lunch break, and Eunchae and Jongseob should be somewhere around here… you can go meet with them and say hi later.”

“Sounds good.”

“Irene!” Taemin, the choreographer, calls out to her. “Jungwon’s got this. He’ll absolutely kill it.”

You notice how Irene and Taemin’s smiles seem wider than Jungwon’s when Taemin says that. The smile plastered on Jungwon’s lips barely reaches his eyes.

“Why don’t you go lace up your skates? You and Jungwon can share the rink.” Irene suggests to you, and you nod. You find a seat, pulling out your skates from your skate bag as you take your regular sports shoes off, slipping into your skating boots. You tie the laces incredibly quickly — after all, you have been doing this for years.

You take off your skate guards, leaving them on the bench as you skate onto the rink, skating laps to warm yourself up as you put your gloves on.

Somewhere along the way, you find yourself accompanied by Jungwon, who catches up to you. “Hey,” he says. “Heard that Irene’s coaching you now.”

“Yeah,” you beam. “We’ll be training mates from now on, huh?” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Saw you practicing your short program for next season… you’ve started quite early. Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack?”

“Mhm,” Jungwon says. “I like to get started earlier, so I’m more familiar with it when it’s time to compete. Do you have any ideas for the music you might skate to?”

“Oh, I’ve got no idea. My friend told me to skate to Bolero, though.” you say, and you see Jungwon grimace at your words. You let out a loud laugh that makes Jungwon chuckle. “Bolero? Really?” he asks.

“Riki knows nothing about figure skating, but I think he goes on Twitter to find what music people hate seeing skaters skate to the most… Bolero is definitely one of them, which is probably why he recommended it to me.” you laugh. “Once he even asked me if I could do a ‘triple double camel spin axel’. Like what in the world is that?”

Your words make Jungwon burst into laughter, and you think it’s one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“A triple double camel spin axel? Your friend might just have invented a new jump.” he quips, and you nod. “Are you ready for the Olympics next year?” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“Who says I’ll make it?”

“Of course you’ll make it. Your skating’s great.” Jungwon says, and you thank him. “You’ll definitely make it. To next year and the one after. You’ll probably make it to the one in 2034 too.”

“Hah, that’s funny. But no, I won’t be making it to the 2030 or the 2034 one. It’s probably nice to think about, though.” Jungwon replies.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why? I mean... maybe 2034 is a bit of a stretch, but surely the 2030 one.”

“I’m retiring after this season.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his words. Yang Jungwon was going to retire? At the age of 22? Was he joking?

You almost can’t believe it.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like skating anymore.” he hums, and he says it so casually. “It’s more of a chore now, rather than something I love. I guess I fell out of love with the ice.”

You can somewhat understand how he feels. You had burnout too, but you never got to the point where you wanted to quit. You just wanted to take a break, to refresh your mind and to take care of your health and body.

But Jungwon sounds like he’s determined to quit. As if nothing will get him to change his mind.

“What would it take for you to fall back in love with it?” you ask.

Jungwon shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything would be able to change my mind at this point. Skating is just so incredibly… draining. I want to enjoy it as much as I used to, but I just don’t think I can continue competing.”

He sounds like he’s truly given up hope on finding love for the sport again, and it makes your heart ache. Yang Jungwon is undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters you’ve ever seen, and to see him possibly end his career because he just simply ran out of love for the sport saddens you.

And for some reason, you want to try and get him to fall back in love with the ice again.

So with a sudden burst of confidence and determination, you decide to ask him: “Are you free any time next week?”

Jungwon looks at you, puzzled. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try and get you to fall back in love with the ice.”

“(Name), I’ve made up my mind—”

“That’s fine. I just want you to enjoy skating again. No competition, just having fun. You know, I was in the audience the day you won the Grand Prix final two years ago. You looked so, so, incredibly happy — I want you to feel the same feeling you felt when you were skating on that ice.”

Jungwon looks at you hesitantly. “You’d do that for me?”

You nod. “We can get to know each other better too. What do you say?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment to think.

“Sure.”

You beam at him. “Cool. I’ll give you my number after practice and we can make arrangements.”

Jungwon nods, and you two end your conversation there, focusing on training instead.

As you land a clean triple salchow-triple toeloop on the ice, you add a new goal to your bucket list.

Get Yang Jungwon to fall in love with figure skating again.

THREE. seal skating aid

You meet up with Jungwon two days later at a public skating rink with a bright smile on your face.

He looks confused when he sees the amount of people who have come to the rink today. “How are we supposed to skate with this many people here?”

You smile, lacing up your skates. “We can still skate. We just can’t jump.”

Jungwon looks hesitantly at you. “But skating laps is boring,” he says. “How am I going to fall back in love with skating like this?”

“Because,” you say. “This was how you first fell in love with it as a kid. You didn’t know how to jump, how to spin, or how to do spirals. Sometimes doing simple things, such as just skating around the rink can be fun. There’s no pressure of needing to execute certain elements properly — look at everyone skating here today. They’re just here to have fun.”

Jungwon looks at the people skating on the rink. There’s a bunch of couples, holding hands as they enjoy their date. There’s also lots of kids taking classes, learning how to balance on their skates just like he did when he was younger. There’s also two or three people who do seem like they’re good skaters, and Jungwon spots one of them doing a Biellmann spin right in the middle of the rink.

And you are right. This was what the first rink Jungwon stepped on looked like. The rink he skated on wasn’t as busy as this, but sure enough, there were couples, kids that were learning to skate, and people like the girl doing the Biellmann spin was what made him think that he wanted to be able to do something like that.

You motion for Jungwon to join you as you step onto the ice, and he does. You two skate around the rink slowly — much slower than Jungwon is used to. He sees a couple of young kids who seemingly recognise you and him, pointing you two out to their friends.

“You’re famous,” he says, chuckling. “You’re more famous, Mr Placed 6th In The Olympics.” you reply, and he shakes his head.

“It’s still 6th. Not a podium finish.” he says, and you sigh. “6th is crazy good for an 18 year old. Plus, you were competing with the greatest of the greats.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Jungwon muses. “I’ll just do better this year. Might as well go out with a bang, hmm?”

“I guess so.” you say.

Jungwon looks around him, seeing little kids who are seemingly learning how to skate for the first time struggle with their balance. He discreetly motions for them to put their arms out and bend their knees, to which they do. They seem to balance a lot better, and Jungwon gives them a soft smile.

Those kids remind him of himself when he was first learning how to skate. A helmet perched on his head with his knee and elbow guards on, and rental skates that Jungwon would never even dare to wear now. He ran onto the ice, falling over — then getting back up. Falling over, then getting back up.

When it comes to skating, Jungwon now feels like he’s fallen. And he can’t seem to just muster the strength to get himself back up.

Perhaps you will be able to get him to ignite the passion that he had for figure skating once again, but there’s a chance that it won’t happen.

Jungwon realised that it hurts to fall out of love with the very thing you sacrificed your entire life for. His childhood was spent at the rink, doing the one thing he knew best — skating. Now that he realises his passion for the sport has crumbled away, all he can ask himself is: was it worth it?

Jungwon wants to say yes. But he isn't quite sure if he believes that now, considering that the ice no longer feels like home.

“You’re thinking a lot.” you hum, and Jungwon nods. “I was just thinking about… how I started.

You motion for him to go on.

“I used to love skating. I loved it more than anything,” Jungwon says, staring at the ice. He once said that the boots on his feet somehow felt molded to his body, since he wore them so much. But now, these exact boots are uncomfortable — they are suffocating, and Jungwon knows that when he's under the pressure of competition, he’ll want nothing more than to take them off. “But now, I just feel emptiness. And I’m just thinking… what could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong,” you reply. “I think you pushed too hard. Like you said, you devoted your entire life to this sport. Even the brightest of flames burn out. You just have to find the thing that’ll be able to light it back up again.”

“That’s poetic.” Jungwon says. “Being a poet was my backup career option, if this whole… skating on knife boots thing didn’t work out.” you quip, and Jungwon cracks a smile.

“This conversation got deep,” Jungwon says. “Sorry for bringing the mood down. I know we’re here to have fun.” he says, and you shrug. “It’s alright. Maybe letting out your feelings about it will help too,” you say.

“Maybe,” Jungwon says. “But I think I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I need to try and rid myself of these emotions, because I’ll just end up overthinking and I’ll end up spiralling.”

You nod. “That’s fair.”

You then spot a seal shaped skating aid, and you look at Jungwon with a twinkle in your eye. You skate a little faster to get to it, and you bring it back to where Jungwon’s standing, and you motion for him to sit down.

“What?” Jungwon asks, confused.

“Sit down!” you beam. “I’ll push you around the rink.”

Jungwon reluctantly sits down, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. He feels like he’s 4 years old, with his sister pushing him around the rink. But he also remembers how fun it was, the cool air hitting his face as loud music played from the speakers in the rink. Christmas music, Jungwon remembered it being.

“I’m gonna push you now,” you say, and Jungwon nods. You start skating, and you begin to skate faster — your blades scratch across the surface of the ice as a small smile begins to make its way across Jungwon’s lips.

Jungwon never thought skating laps could be so… fun. It’s like he forgot this feeling — skating with no jumps, no spins, no spirals. Just moving forward. It was so simple.

Simple is fun, Jungwon realises.

Simply skating forwards seems more exciting than the intricate movements he has to make. He doesn’t need to worry about possibly falling on a quad, he doesn’t need to worry about underrotating a jump, or getting an edge call — he can just skate.

“Wait,” Jungwon suddenly says, and then you stop.

“Let me push you,” he says, getting up. You nod, plopping yourself down onto the seat as Jungwon grips the handle on the skating aid, which is shaped like a seal’s tail.

Jungwon starts skating, pushing the skating aid forward. He skates around the rink, moving faster with each lap he makes, and you put your hands up as if you’re riding a rollercoaster.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” you ask.

Yes, Jungwon thinks. This is quite fun.

Despite just skating laps in a public skating rink, Jungwon thinks this might be the most fun he’s had on the rink in the last year.

FOUR. one ice show, two realisations

You see Jungwon two days later at the rink.

He waves at you from the ice, taking a sip from his water bottle. His phone pings with a message, and he picks it up to view the text.

His fingers fly over the screen as he types a response while you lace up your skates. “Who’s texting?” you ask, skating onto the rink.

“Oh, just Yuzu.”

“You’re talking about two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” he says, placing his phone back onto the bench.

“What’d he say?” you ask — you don’t mean to be nosy, but Jungwon seems more than comfortable with telling you what the Japanese figure skater had texted him about. “Fantasy on Ice,” Jungwon replies. “The organisers wanted to reach out to me and ask me to join them on the tour, so he probably texted to give me a heads up.”

“You should definitely do it, Jungwon!” you smile, and Jungwon purses his lips. “I don’t know.” he says, and he seems hesitant to accept Yuzuru’s offer.

You cross your arms. “Remember, it’s not a competition. Ice shows are meant to be fun. It doesn’t matter if the performance isn’t perfect — as long as you're having fun, and the audience is having fun, then that’s all that matters.”

“Right.” he gulps. “I just haven’t done an ice show in a while.”

“It’ll be a good experience to have, Jungwon. You can get rid of the pressure to prepare everything for next season and just enjoy skating, and you can go make new friends too.” you say, and Jungwon seems to consider it.

“I only have one gala program prepared.”

“Choreograph a new one.”

“Taemin’s busy.”

“You don’t have to ask Taemin. Choreograph one yourself.” you suggest, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Jungwon, you’re an artist. You can come up with something.”

“It’ll be bad.”

“Have some confidence in yourself,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You won’t know if you’re good or bad at it until you try, right?”

Jungwon gulps again. “Right.”

“So are you going to take up Hanyu’s offer?”

Jungwon shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Make that maybe a yes,” you say. “Really, skating in an ice show might help you enjoy skating again. Trust me. The crowd hypes you up, the skaters are all supportive, and it’s just a really nice environment to be in.”

Jungwon ponders the idea for a moment. Maybe he should really do this ice show. He hasn’t performed in a non-competition capacity in a while, excluding the galas after competitions. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nice to skate without the pressure of competition.

But the little voice in his head tells him that he absolutely needs to work on his programs next season. He wants to go out with a bang — he can’t do that if he’s underprepared.

Then your voice rings in his head. Fuck it, he hears you say.

A few shows can’t possibly hinder his performance that much. And it’s not like he won’t get any practice time in, and he’s already learnt the choreography for both programs… so it shouldn’t be a problem… right?

Jungwon wants to love skating again.

Maybe an ice show is the second step out of many in his quest to possibly find his love for skating again.

“Okay.” he says, picking up his phone. He moves his thumb over Yuzuru’s contact, typing an ‘I’d be interested’ before sending it without hesitation. You look pleasantly surprised, a smile on your lips as he places down his phone before looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small grin.

“Nothing,” you say, looking down at your skates. “I’m just happy you’re trying to regain your passion for this sport.”

Jungwon hums. “Yes. I hope I will be able to.”

“I hope you can too.” you say. “This ice show might help you change your mind.”

“I just wanted to ask you — why did you offer to help me try and love the ice again?” he asks, and you purse your lips.

This conversation is not an easy one to have, you think.

“I guess it’s because I’ve been through something similar,” you start. “There’s a whole backstory to this, so I might as well tell you. I was 13 when I started being coached by Seo Minju.”

When you brought up Seo Minju, Jungwon knew that what you were about to say was not going to be pleasant at all. A couple of friends Jungwon had were also coached by Seo Minju, and had ended up getting multiple injuries — and some even had to retire early.

“I trained… way too much, to say the least. More than you do now. I was breaking my body and my mind from the inside out, training even though I was — excuse my language — fucking exhausted. There was a point where in the middle of JGP Courchevel, I felt like I’d black out after I did a triple axel.” you say, and pressing your lips together in a thin line as you relive the memories that you’ve always wanted to forget.

“And I was in so much pain. I don’t know how I still trained with that much pain — I guess it was Seo who tried to make me keep going. Then one day… I just fractured my ankle,” you gulp, as Jungwon looks at you with his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes seem to be watery.

“The doctors said my career could have ended. That was the most terrifying thing to hear as a 14 year old kid. I had to rest, heal, and I couldn’t be on the ice for months. I swapped coaches, almost immediately after I got the diagnosis. And when I was told that I could go back onto the ice again, I was fucking terrified. I was scared that one wrong move would end my entire career for good.”

You sigh. “It took me months to heal. I still loved the ice — but my fear of it seemed stronger than my love for it. I had to relearn new techniques, get back my triples… that’s why I disappeared for a whole season. And when I managed to become comfortable with the ice again, I kind of just started thinking in a different perspective. I guess I kind of just want you to maybe think of the sport differently than the way you see it now. Because at the end of the day, when we decided to start, it was because we loved it, right?”

Jungwon finds that a tear trickles down his cheek after you finish speaking. “Don’t cry,” you say, a frown on your face. “I’m okay now.”

“I’m so sorry.” he says, and you smile. “It’s okay. I just kind of always have to remember to take more care of this ankle right here,” you say, pointing to your right ankle. “My problem child.” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Jungwon’s only gotten to know you better in the past few weeks, but he thinks that you’re the most incredible and most admirable person he’s ever met. And the fact that you would go out of your way to try and help him enjoy skating again — it makes warmth bloom across Jungwon’s chest and fills him with nothing but happiness.

He thinks he’ll be eternally grateful for you.

“Come here,” he says, arms held out to pull you in a hug. You skate closer to him, and he wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, wrapping your arms around him.. Jungwon’s hugs are comforting, and you feel nothing but warmth despite you both standing in the middle of an ice skating rink.

He smells like fresh linen, you realise.

You also realise that you don’t really want to let go.

FIVE. spiralling

You receive a message from the Fantasy On Ice organisers a few days later as well, asking if you’d like to join them on tour.

Of course you say yes.

Jungwon seems more cheerful lately. His mood dampens a little bit when he’s on the ice, but it seems barely noticeable to Jiwon and Jongseob — maybe you're just extra attentive when it comes to him.

Jungwon will admit that he is feeling a little bit better. Skating to a program that he knows he doesn’t have to compete with is freeing, fun even. But the little devil on his shoulder keeps pestering him, telling him that he has to focus on next season’s programs.

Jungwon tells the devil to fuck off.

He heads back to his apartment, the weight on his shoulders slightly less heavy than it was a couple weeks ago. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might get to love skating again.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised by his cousin, Wonyoung, who stands in front of the door with balloons in her hands. “Congrats on your Worlds win!”

She pulls Jungwon in for a hug. “You’re two weeks late, Wonyo.” he jokes, and Wonyoung scoffs. “I texted you, because I was in Paris and I couldn’t come watch you.”

“I know, I know.” Jungwon says, putting his skate bag away before he flops on the couch, Wonyoung sitting next to him. “How’s skating?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Jungwon responds. “Well, not entirely. But 90% terrible.”

Wonyoung looks surprised. “What? You just won a major competition though.”

“Yeah. I guess. But it’s not exactly fun anymore,” Jungwon sighs, and Wonyoung frowns. “I feel way too much pressure to be perfect. Every day of my life, it’s just training, training, training — I feel like I know nothing outside of figure skating.”

Jungwon’s phone rings, and he furrows his eyebrows before pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. It’s Jangmi, his older sister.

“Hello?” Jungwon says, putting his sister on speaker mode.

“Why did we have to find out from Irene that you’re retiring?” Jangmi’s tone does not seem happy, and Wonyoung, who’s sitting beside him, seems shocked.

Jungwon sits up properly, frowning at his sister’s words. “Because I didn’t think that it was any of your business at the time, and probably because I would’ve told you when I was ready?” he replies. “Why do you sound so angry?”

“You’re like… 22. You’re way too young to retire.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Jangmi.” Jungwon says, sighing.

“Why are you even retiring anyways? It’s not like you’re injured or anything.” she says, and Jungwon frowns. “I just don’t love the sport anymore, Jangmi. I should be able to retire when I want to, and I think that I want to.”

“All because you don’t love the sport? You’re throwing away all those years of your training because you don’t love it anymore? You’re just finding an excuse to quit, Jungwon — and you know our family doesn’t like quitters.”

Jangmi’s words make Jungwon fume. He’s furious, and Wonyoung can tell from the way his expression immediately changes from frustration to one of pure anger.

“You would never understand, Jangmi. I sacrificed my entire childhood for this sport and I wish I fucking knew why I fell out of love with it but I just don’t know why, okay? I wish I could just suddenly start fucking love skating like I did when I was 4, but that’s not possible! I’ve gotten to the point where I simply just cannot continue because I’m not going to spend my days being miserable doing something that I don’t love.” Jungwon’s hands tremble as he holds his phone, tears welling in his eyes and Wonyoung pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him — it does not seem to work at all.

“Do your medals and titles really mean nothing to you? Do they not give you motivation to keep going? You’re literally Yang Jungwon, Olympian, 2025 World Champion, and a 5 time national champion!”

“They seem to mean more to you than they do to me.” Jungwon says.

“Jungwon, you can’t give up.”

“But I can.”

“Jungwon—”

“Jangmi, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Call me when you can accept my decision.” Jungwon says, before hanging up. He sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest of his couch.

He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung asks, even if she knows that her cousin is anything but okay.

“I’ll manage.” Jungwon replies, and Wonyoung gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Jungwon gives her a stiff smile.

None of them say a word for a while, sitting in silence until Jungwon suddenly speaks up. “I just don’t know how this happened.”

“What?” Wonyoung asks.

“How I managed to start disliking the one thing I swore I’d love my whole life. I spent my entire life, I sacrificed my entire life just to get here… and now that I am here, I find that I suddenly hate skating. The passion I used to have seems like it just disappeared into thin air.”

“What Jangmi said was wrong.” Wonyoung says. “It’s your career. Do whatever you want.”

“But now that I think about it, do I really want to retire?” Jungwon lets out a sad laugh. “I was telling my friend, (Name), that I wanted to love skating again. Maybe that’s just all I want.”

Jangmi’s phone call somehow really struck a chord within Jungwon. He knew that his sister only cared about his titles — it’s been like that since they were kids. Saying I’m figure skater Yang Jungwon’s sister somehow gave her an automatic “cool” pass. Then it became national champion Yang Jungwon. Then, Olympian Yang Jungwon.

Figure skating is all Jungwon’s ever known. Saying that he wants to retire seems easy enough when he knows he hates what he does. But when his last competition rolls around, Jungwon knows that leaving the ice might be the most difficult thing he’s had to do, ever.

Jungwon might hate the sport he’s sacrificed his life for, but what he hates more is that he allowed himself to start hating it.

SIX. rental skates

After a few weeks of practising your gala performance and a little bit of your programs for next season, you and Jungwon are headed to Japan for Fantasy On Ice.

Jungwon hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately. You’ve tried to cheer him up, and it works sometimes, but he still looks exhausted and tired of it whenever he steps on the ice.

You hope the ice show will make him feel better. Sometimes performing to an upbeat and supportive crowd can help cheer people up (at least that’s what it’s like for you.)

You’ve given him supportive comments while you’re watching him rehearse his program for the show, and you manage to get him to crack small smiles while he’s skating — you know he’ll have to take this one step at a time.

You two are seated beside each other on the plane, and Jungwon settles into his seat comfortably, headphones propped on his head over a baseball cap.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I haven’t participated in an ice show for a while. I really don’t know what to expect…. so I’m a bit worried.” he replies.

“Don’t worry. Ice shows are meant to just be for fun,” you say. “Skating is something you should enjoy with the audience.”

Your take is interesting. All his life, Jungwon has just been aiming for the medals — he never thought about how he was feeling while he skated. It was as if his mind was blank, only knowing that he had to do this certain element at this certain time.

Because getting medals was what would bring him joy, right?

That was what Jungwon used to think.

“Mhm.” he replies.

He doesn’t know why his sister’s words from weeks ago are still stuck in his mind. He goes quiet, lips downturned into a small frown that you notice.

“How’d you start liking the sport?” you ask Jungwon, noticing his mood to seemingly be less than pleasant. Maybe your question will help him take his mind off whatever’s been bugging him.

“My sister’s birthday party. We all went to the ice rink together. I remember just running onto the ice, and I fell a couple times. There was this one learn to skate class being held during it, and I just saw other kids my age having so much fun. Then, I saw this one girl do a Biellmann, and she did some double jumps too. And I thought — how cool would it be if I could do that?” he says, and he smiles a little when he thinks about those good memories.

“What about you?” he asks, taking a sip from his water bottle as the pilot notifies everyone that they’re about to take off.

“My parents just signed me up for skating lessons. But then I ended up really loving it after my first class.” you reply, and Jungwon nods.

“Now that I think about it, classes were really fun for me when I was a kid.” Jungwon says, and you crack a small smile. “We should do a learn to skate class for jokes,” you say, and Jungwon chuckles. “The coach would definitely ask us what we’re doing there. They’d be so confused.” he replies.

“Let’s wear rental skates.”

“Oh, god no.” Jungwon grimaces at the thought. “I swear the blades at the rink haven’t been sharpened for years.”

“You should try a triple in rental skates,” you joke, and Jungwon makes a face, wincing. “I can already feel the pain from that… I’d most definitely fall and injure myself.”

“No, you’d be good, Mr 2025 World Champion.”

“You try it, Ms 2025 Grand Prix Final winner.”

Jungwon thinks that he feels the most comfortable when he’s around you. It takes him a bit to warm up to people, but you two had formed a close relationship practically the minute you guys became training mates. Talking to you is easy, and fun – he doesn’t think he’s had a good laugh on the rink in years, and Jungwon realises that skating is more fun when you’re around.

Goofing around on the rink, taking practices seriously but also not at the same time is something that seems new to Jungwon, at least in the last few years. So seeing you find joy in practice, which is something he hasn’t been able to do for years, makes him think that maybe he could do that too.

You encourage him, as well, pulling him into your antics that make Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae laugh. Slowly but surely, all your training mates seem to realise that Jungwon’s loosening up – he allows himself to have fun on the rink, and he allows himself to take breaks.

During a conversation between Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae, Jiwon had mentioned that she thought that Jungwon would probably fall in love with you.

“She seems to make him happy,” was what she said. She’s not wrong, too – everyone’s noticed the way Jungwon seems to seem livelier and happier lately. Jongseob remembers the way Jungwon seemed to be constantly stressed, eyebrows almost always knitted together in worry, and never-ending sighs escaping past his lips.

Jungwon’s love for skating hasn’t fully returned yet, but he thinks that he’s starting to like it a little again. It’s not as draining as it was before, and perhaps it’s because you’ve taught him that above all, skating should be fun. Jungwon allows himself to have fun on the ice for the first time in a couple of years, and when he glides across the ice with not a single ounce of worrying about him needing to prove that he’s the best, all he feels is relief.

And he would be eternally grateful for you. For teaching him how to have fun on the ice again. To let go of all the pressure that’s been on his shoulders for years, and just to enjoy the sport.

Gold medals and countless titles might have brought him fulfilment years ago. But now, he thinks that simply just skating would bring the same amount of fulfilment, if not maybe even more.

SEVEN. side by side (quad toe)

Ice show practices are fun.

Everyone’s got a smile on their faces. The first thing Jungwon notices is how warm and welcoming everyone is. The minute he walks into the rink alongside you, he’s welcomed with a hug from Harua, a figure skater from Japan that he remembers having a few nice conversations with during competitions.

“It’s nice to see you again!” Harua beams. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jungwon replies, even though he saw him at Worlds just a few months ago. “I know right?” Harua says. “I’m glad you’re joining us this year, though! I remember the organisers wanted to see if you wanted to join us last year, but Irene told them you were busy.”

Jungwon brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, I was busy during the off-season last year. Preparing for competitions, you know… I thought I’d have a break from that and just join you guys this year.”

“Mhm,” Harua nods, and he hears his name being called out by someone. “I think I’ve got to run along, but it was nice seeing you! It’ll be lots of fun. Nice seeing you too as well, (Name)! Let’s talk more later.”

Harua runs off, as you give Jungwon an amused smile. “You guys seem close.”

“We’re not super close… we’ve just talked to each other a couple times at competitions. He’s a really nice guy, though.” Jungwon says, taking his skates out of his skate bag. He looks at the rink, and there are a few skaters he recognises just warming up.

“He does seem really nice.” you hum, sitting down next to him as you take your skates out from your bag as well.

“You ready?” he asks, standing up. You quickly finish lacing up your right boot before nodding. “Let’s go,” you say, linking arms with him as you lead him towards the rink.

You do it so casually that Jungwon needs a few seconds to process the action. He doesn’t know why his face starts feeling warm, and he doesn’t want you to let go of his arm.

The funniest thing is, the minute he thinks that, you let go, placing your hands into the pocket of your jacket.

“Hey, let’s do a side by side jump.” you suggest, and Jungwon nods. “Triple?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Nah, let’s do a quad. Quad toe?”

“Sure.” he says, and he starts skating, doing backward crossovers on the ice. “Should I count? How do pairs do this?” you say, as you skate beside him.

“Just count,” he says.

“Okay, one, two, three.”

And you both take off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing, completely synchronised. You look at Jungwon with a huge smile on your face, giving him a high five. “Nice.” you say.

“That was good.” Jungwon says, patting you on the shoulder. “New pairs team in the making!” you two hear Jongseob joke, and Jungwon lets out a chuckle.

You tell Jungwon that you’re going to practise your gala program for a bit, and he nods as he watches you skate off. You glide gracefully across the ice, Jungwon admiring how beautiful your jumps and spins are.

He doesn’t realise that his expression is one of awe until Harua points it out. “You look very enamoured, Jungwon.” he smirks, and Jungwon immediately snaps out of it.

“Huh… what?” he asks, almost as if he’s in a daze. He blinks a couple times, and Harua only chuckles. “Do you like (Name)?

“Of course I like (Name). She’s my friend.” he says, completely clueless to what Harua’s hinting at. “No, no, I mean like… in a romantic way.”

A romantic way?

It might sound a little crazy, but Jungwon does not think he’s ever had a crush on someone in his 22 years of walking on this planet. Skating was his number one priority — love wasn’t anywhere on his list of priorities. In fact, Jungwon doesn’t even think he’s thought about love at all.

So Jungwon isn’t quite sure how to tell if his feelings for you are romantic or not, because he simply just doesn’t know what having a crush feels like. He knows that you linking arms with him was nice. He knows that he didn’t want you to let go of his arm.

Was that the first sign of a crush?

Jungwon truly didn’t know.

He scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I don't… think so.” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a question, and Harua only smiles at him, amused.

“Cool. Cool… tell me that next year when you two are dating.” the boy says, and Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “We’re not going to… what?”

“You seem much happier when you’re around her, you know.” Harua says, earnestly. “At Worlds, you didn’t seem very happy. You seemed tense, as if you were always burdened by something.”

“But now, you seem like you’re feeling better. You’re smiling again.” Harua says, and Jungwon takes a few seconds to process his words.

“She… she’s trying to get me to like skating again.” Jungwon says, and Harua lets out a knowing ‘ah’. “I guess I have started liking skating more again… because she’s helped me learn to have fun.”

“That’s good. See, your relationship is like a whole Netflix movie plot.” Harua quips.

“I really don’t see the vision you’re trying to paint in my head, Harua.” Jungwon says, and Harua shrugs. “Just think about your feelings when you’re around her. I guess if you feel like… warm, and happy when she’s around, you like her? Or if you think about her a lot. Or if you want to kiss her, I don’t know. You should Google it. Ask Google how to tell if you like someone, or something. You know it has all the answers.”

Jungwon’s drawn to two parts of what Harua just said. One, the part being that Harua told him to ask Google how to tell if you liked someone, and two, the part where he told Jungwon to think about whether he wanted to kiss you.

Jungwon’s not going to Google to ask for relationship advice.

And Jungwon also doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or not. He doesn’t even know if he likes you romantically, either. All he knows is that you make him happy. Much happier than he used to be.

But when you skate up to him with a bright smile on your face, Jungwon feels his heart beat faster than it was just a few seconds ago. And he knows it’s not because he’s tired from skating, because after all, he has been standing still while talking to Harua.

Maybe he does like you.

Just a little bit.

EIGHT. let me entertain you

Tonight is the first show of Fantasy on Ice for this year, and you’re bursting with excitement.

You get dressed into the costume for the opening, and you raise an eyebrow when you see the dress. It’s not… terrible, but it’s not something you’d wear at all.

You leave the dressing room, looking into the mirror as you tilt your head. You walk towards the hair and makeup area, where Jungwon’s getting his hair done.

“Do I look okay?”

Jungwon thinks his heart skips a beat.

The costume is... alright, but that’s the case with Fantasy On Ice costumes every year. But, you make it look really, really good. Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“You look great.” he says, and you smile.

“Thank you, Won!”

You just called him a nickname. His smile seemingly gets wider as you scurry off, being called for your own hair and makeup to be done.

“Do you see what I mean, Jungwon?” Harua says, sitting in the chair beside him. “I really don’t.” Jungwon replies.

“You two are definitely going to fall in love. I’ve got great matchmaking skills.” Harua smirks.

“Who’s falling in love?” Yuzuru asks, overhearing Harua’s words, and Jungwon buries his face in his hands. “Jungwon! And… (Name).” Harua says your voice very quietly, in fear that you might hear him.

“Oh?” Yuzuru says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys would be cute together. Did you guys get closer recently?”

“Mhm,” Jungwon nods. “I don’t think I'm… in love though.”

“You’re married to the ice like Yuzu, huh?” Harua quips. “I said I wanted someone who would benefit my skating or be very supportive of it.” Yuzuru replies.

“Elsa.”

“Enough.”

“No, but I just haven’t thought about love, you know?” Jungwon says. “Skating takes up my whole life… I don’t exactly have the time to think about it.”

“Valid.” Yuzuru hums. “But seriously, you two would actually be really cute together. Harua says he hasn’t seen you smile genuinely in years.”

Jungwon thinks Harua might be exaggerating a little. He would smile at Harua (genuine smiles!) after he finished skating. It was just during the skate, during the Kiss and Cry, and during the podium where Jungwon would do the smile that never quite ended up reaching his eyes.

“You’re making me sound emo!”

“You are though?” Harua replies, laughing. “Wait, no… not anymore.” he nods his head in the direction of where you are, and Jungwon rolls his eyes.

“I’m not falling in love.” he says, before getting up from his chair. He hears Harua say Whatever you say! teasingly, and Jungwon just shakes his head as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says, greeting you as the makeup artist swipes a pretty pink colour on your lips. You look up at him, waving (because you can’t exactly smile right now.)

“Hi! You’re lucky you’ve got a puffer jacket on. Man, it’s freezing here.” you say when the makeup artist is done, shivering slightly. For someone who’s on the ice almost all the time, your tolerance to the cold isn’t exactly high — but in your defence, they did have the aircon on in the room.

“You can just take mine,” Jungwon says, unzipping it. He drapes it over your shoulders, and the action suddenly makes your cheeks start feeling hot.

You’ve heard about this feeling before, but you don’t think you’ve ever really experienced it. If those movies and books were right, you think you might just have the tiniest crush on Yang Jungwon.

You think that becoming friends with Jungwon might’ve been one of the best decisions of your life. He’s kind — always caring about you even when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s funny too, but he doesn’t seem to show it to anyone other than you. And, he is undeniably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

Him lending you his jacket just makes your heart flutter.

“Oh, thank you.” you say, and for the first time, you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re talking to Jungwon.

“It’ll keep you warm until before the show starts.” he says, and you nod. “You ready?” you ask, and Jungwon shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’m a bit scared. I hope I do well.”

You take his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “I know you’ll do well. And just remember that this is for fun. It’s not a competition. You’re here to have fun, you’re here to let the audience have fun.”

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make sure to have fun.”

“Loosen up, Wonie.” you beam at him. “The crowd will love you, I’m sure of it.”

You see everyone starting to line up in order of their appearance for the opening, and thankfully, you’re behind Jungwon, so you two can continue your conversation.

“I just wanted to ask.” you start, and Jungwon hums, motioning for you to continue. “Do you think you’re starting to love skating again?”

Jungwon is silent for a moment.

“A little bit. Because now I know that skating is meant to be fun, above all.” he says, and you smile.

“Cool.”

“Thank you.” Jungwon grins at you.

“For what?” you ask.

“For helping me with liking skating again. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to find my love for it again. I guess I just thought that if I trained harder and got better results, I’d be happier with my skates… but I was wrong,” he replies. “I needed to learn how to have fun again. I needed to remember why I started loving the sport in the first place.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Won.”

“No, but I do. I know I wouldn’t have done this ice show if you didn’t convince me to. And from what I can tell and the cheers I can hear, I think it’ll be a lot of fun.” he smiles. “So thank you. For pushing me to loosen up. For pushing me to learn to have fun.”

“You’re welcome, then.” you smile. The organiser tells Jungwon that he’ll be up next. “You’ll kill it out there.” you say.

“So will you.”

Jungwon thinks that deciding to join this ice show might be one of the best decisions he’s made.

NINE. ice days

Jungwon has never felt so happy to perform.

The crowd is loud, lively and cheers him on, applause sounding throughout the arena after he lands a jump. The atmosphere makes Jungwon excited to skate on the next show.

It’s been a while since Jungwon felt excitement towards the ice.

Cheers resound throughout the arena when he finishes his program, and he finds that he doesn’t have to plaster a smile on his face — he already is smiling. A huge, genuine smile.

He doesn’t see you until the group number at the end, and when he spots you, he skates a little faster in order to catch up with you. “Hey, Won! You did great.” you say when you notice him skating beside you on your left.

“Thank you,” he says, a smile on his lips. “You did great too.”

“Was it fun?” you ask, playing with the coloured scarf tied around your neck. You notice that you and Jungwon have the same exact one – they’re both orange and pink (a colour combination that you’re not quite sure you like too much.)

“Yeah. It was really fun.”

“What’d I tell you?” you say, grinning brightly at him. “There are a lot more shows after this, so you’ll get to experience all this over and over again.”

“I’m glad you made me do this,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun on the ice in a long, long time.”

“That’s good. Do you think my quest to help you love the ice again is working?” you ask.

“I think it is.”

You take his hand and squeeze it. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jungwon doesn’t notice the crowd seems to get louder after seeing your action. He thinks that someone must’ve done a cool trick, like Jongseob doing a backflip.

“That’s enough, lovebirds!” Harua says, skating up to you two. “We’re about to leave the rink.”

All the skaters skate to the centre of the rink, and Jungwon does too, with you following him. You all link hands, bowing at the audience before each of you leave the rink, one by one.

As Jungwon’s hand is in yours, you can’t stop thinking about Harua calling you two lovebirds. Obviously, you and Jungwon weren’t together, but now you can’t stop thinking that perhaps there could be a possibility, provided that you managed to figure out all the mixed feelings you had and if he reciprocated.

But strangely, something about Jungwon just makes you feel at home.

There is something so comforting about his presence. You feel at ease with Jungwon — it’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to crack jokes when he’s around (you realised that you do it more often when he’s around just so you can see him laugh.)

It’s also easy to just sit in silence with Jungwon. Usually you’d feel compelled to fill the awkward silence, but with Jungwon, sometimes words don’t need to be shared. You feel like you’re able to understand him, and he’s able to understand you, despite only growing close during the off-season.

You’d like to think that he’s the closest friend in your circle of skater friends.

When you’re finished getting changed out of the costume and remove your makeup, you try to find Jungwon in the packed room, but to no avail.

“Who are you looking for?” Kaori asks, and you turn around to face her. “Oh! Jungwon.” you say, and Kaori points in the direction she saw him go in. “He’s just over there, with Harua.”

“Thanks!” you say, grinning at Kaori before heading in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Jungwon’s sitting there, typing away at his phone.

“Won!” you say, and he looks up, a smile immediately on his lips. “(Name)! I was waiting for you.” he says.

Your heart flutters. Harua smirks whilst trying to stifle a giggle. Jungwon shoots a pointed look at the boy.

“Oh?” you ask. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel together.” he says, standing up from his chair.

“Of course!” you reply, nodding. “Cool,” he says, placing his puffer jacket into his bag. “Harua says there’s a good ramen place around here.”

“Yeah. It’s really good. I would go with you guys but then I’d be third-wheeling.” Harua says, still seated in his chair. Your cheeks flush pink at his words, whilst Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you be third-wheeling?”

“Oh. Just because,” Harua says, a smirk on his lips. “You guys should run along now. They close pretty soon,” he checks the time on his phone.

“Well! We should hurry then… see you tomorrow, Harua.” you say, and Jungwon waves at the skater. “Bye!”

Have fun on your date, Harua mouths at Jungwon. Jungwon rolls his eyes in response.

“The crowd were cheering really loud for you tonight,” you tell Jungwon. “Oh, really?” he asks — he thought they were just as loud with everybody else.

“There were less people in the audience during the last ice show I did, but yeah. They were really loud — they seemed to really enjoy your performance.”

A small, proud smile makes its way to Jungwon’s lips. “I’m glad they enjoyed it. They seemed to like your performance too. I know I did.”

Goddamn Yang Jungwon. His words were making your heart beat as fast as it was when you were competing on the ice.

Your cheeks feel hot, and you fan your face with your hand to try and stop them from getting warmer. Jungwon seems to notice your actions. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What?”

“The weather.” he says, pulling out his phone. “It’s 32 degrees right now.”

Thank god Jungwon is dense when it comes to any aspect of romance. You understand why though, because when he was younger, he was fully devoted to the ice. You don’t think he even gave any attention to the people who were chasing after him and yearning for his affection — because it was like his heart belonged to the ice.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” you say. You think you dodged a bullet there. You and Jungwon arrive at the ramen shop soon after, and Harua is right — the food is absolutely delicious.

Speaking of Harua, the ramen reminds you of him mentioning that if he came with you and Jungwon, he’d be third-wheeling.

Somehow you feel… giddy at the thought of that. Not Harua third-wheeling, but the idea of you and Jungwon on a date.

Wait, was this dinner a date?

No. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. Jungwon only sees you as a friend.

But the idea of you two possibly being something more seems to now be engraved in the back of your mind, and while eating ramen in 32 degree weather with Yang Jungwon in the streets of Makuhari, you realise:

You like Jungwon.

TEN. 4Lz (ur, fall)

Jungwon finds that Fantasy on Ice ends faster than he thinks. It was nearly two months of touring — time really does fly when you’re having fun.

He thinks he’s starting to enjoy skating again. He’s found a new appreciation for his craft — and with the knowledge that his skating is able to make so many people happy, he thinks that he should be able to make himself happy with his own skating.

He returns to the Taereung skating rink with a bright smile, and Irene notices the change in his demeanour the second he walks in the door.

“Welcome back, Jungwon.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Hi, Irene. Thanks.” he replies, placing his skate bag on the floor before taking his skates out. He takes off his usual training shoes, putting on the skating boots that've been with him every day for the last 3 years.

“How was FAOI?” Irene asks. “Good. It was fun.” Jungwon says, finishing lacing up his skates.

“That’s good. Are you ready to practise for next season properly now?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah.” he says, skating onto the rink.

“You remember the choreographies, right?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. He thinks he remembers them, but now that she asks, he’s not too sure if he remembers them completely.

“We’ll do the short program first.” Irene says, pressing play on her phone as the music plays through the speakers.

Jungwon glides on the ice elegantly, his movements as fluid and soft as water. He spins and turns on the ice, doing backward crossovers as he prepares for the first jump — a quad lutz.

He’s usually confident in this jump. He takes off, spinning in the air — but as he’s about to make his landing, he falls. Irene makes a noise just as Jungwon gets up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. It’s fine. Jungwon thinks.

The next jump is a quad toeloop-triple toeloop combination, and Jungwon thinks he’ll do fine, and he lands the quad well, but he feels the landing on the triple is a little shaky.

Doubt fills his mind. Did he get worse somehow while doing the ice shows? Sure, he didn’t do as many quads when he was in Japan, but he thought he’d be okay. Or maybe he’s just having a bad day. He’s done three jumps. Two of them he wouldn’t consider done well.

Flying camel spin. Jungwon’s spins are always done well, and Irene nods in approval — but every thought in Jungwon’s mind is telling him that he shouldn’t have done that ice show. He slacked off, and now he’s not doing as great as he was before.

Final jump for his short program, a triple axel. He lands it cleanly, but he feels little satisfaction for it. Dread is what Jungwon feels. He shouldn’t have gone. He should’ve listened to the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay — he needs to train. He needs to practise.

Spin combination. Jungwon does them well as usual. Then the step sequence, which as he’s skating, he hears Irene make a small hum in satisfaction. But Jungwon does not feel any satisfaction from his performance at all.

The last element of his program, a sit spin, is completed perfectly.

Jungwon is surprised he remembers the entire choreography when he’s in his finishing pose. He sighs, skating around the rink with a frown on his face.

“You didn’t have enough height on your quad lutz.” Irene says, and Jungwon nods. “I know.”

“Train that for a bit.”

Jungwon listens.

And he falls more than he usually does.

The more he falls, the more his brain tells him that he should have stayed. He notices you entering the rink, and that lifts his mood slightly — but as he attempts another quad lutz, and falls, he’s just completely tired.

He motions to Irene that he’s going to have a break. He leaves the rink, putting his skate guards on as he heads towards an empty bench, burying his face in his hands.

You immediately notice the dejected look on Jungwon’s face, and you hurry over to him to ask him if he’s okay.

“What’s wrong, Won?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “Nothing. I’m frustrated.” he replies with a sigh.

“You can talk to me.”

“I spent too much time having fun. And now I think I forgot the choreo to my free skate, and I can’t land my quad lutz — usually, I’d be way ahead in terms of preparation. And I’m just scared that I won’t do well next season.” he says, his voice shaky, and you frown.

“I’m not blaming you for saying I should’ve gone to the ice shows, by the way. I enjoyed the ice show. But now I feel underprepared.”

“It’s okay. But Jungwon, Grand Prix is like in… September. It’s July.” you say, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I know. I know. I’m just… worried.”

“You have plenty, plenty of time. And hey, maybe it’s just a bad skate day. I get those sometimes.” you say in a soft voice, placing your hand on his shoulder, and Jungwon thinks your words make him feel a little better. “Doing not as well on one day doesn’t mean you’re terrible now, Jungwon. You have lots of time, and you’ll only get better. Don’t stress, okay?”

“Okay.” he says, sighing.

“You’ll do great. I know it.”

Your words are able to comfort him. Jungwon is thankful for that. But he feels this blooming feeling in his chest that he doesn’t really think he’s ever felt before. The words Harua said a month ago pops back into his mind. You two are definitely going to fall in love.

Love may be a bit of a stretch for now. But Jungwon thinks he certainly does like you. He feels warm and happy around you. He thinks about you a lot. And the possibility of being something more than friends has started to linger in the back of his mind.

“Thank you. You will too.” Jungwon says. You give his hand a tight squeeze as encouragement, telling him ‘fighting!’ — which makes him crack a small smile.

Shit, maybe Harua is right. Jungwon thinks. He heads back onto the rink, deciding that he should try the quad lutz again. Maybe it’s just a bad day.

And as he lands one that he thinks is the cleanest one he’s ever done, he decides that perhaps taking Harua’s advice to ask Google how to tell if he likes someone isn’t the worst idea.

ELEVEN. octuple flip

Grand Prix assignments roll out two weeks after you and Jungwon’s return to the Taereung rink.

You’re assigned to Grand Prix de France and NHK Trophy, and Jungwon’s assigned to Skate Canada and like you, the NHK Trophy.

You’re glad you’ll at least be able to see him at a Grand Prix competition. You tell him that when he’s at Skate Canada, you’ll be watching him skate from the comfort of your home. He tells you that he’ll be doing the same when you’re at Grand Prix de France.

You and Jungwon get even closer during training for the Grand Prix competitions. Like you had said, that day when he fell on the quad lutz multiple times was just a bad day. You’ve seen him do both his short program and free program cleanly multiple times now.

Jungwon thinks he must’ve been having fun during training, because Skate Canada rolls around faster than he thinks. But of course with you around at training, it’ll always be fun.

He did not end up asking Google for relationship advice. He instead asked Wonyoung, who had asked him to text her about you and just simply describe you and how you made him feel. He had originally texted ‘nice to me.’, but then Wonyoung told him that he had to elaborate.

Needless to say, after his long paragraph about you that he sent to Wonyoung (she skimmed over it, the first two lines of the text were all she needed to know), she had established that Jungwon liked you.

And with that thought in his mind, Jungwon does realise he has started to act differently around you more recently. He’s more attentive to you, he’s always by your side when you’re around, and he finds himself sometimes wanting to just hold your hand.

As you send him off to the airport, a bright smile on your lips and a cat plushie in your hand that you give to him, a pink blush tints his cheeks, even if he doesn’t know it. And if he did, he’d blame it on how hot the coffee in his hand is.

Unbeknownst to Jungwon, your cheeks are heating up too when you see the look on his face after you give him the stuffed animal.

There’s just something about Jungwon that makes your heart do flips. Triple flips, quadruple flips — even quintuple flips.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You think it just did 8 rotations. Not humanly possible.

But, your heart just does an octuple flip.

You text him every day too, when he’s in Canada. He responds almost immediately (if he’s awake, because of the damned time zones), and he sometimes even sends you pictures of himself on the ice too. There’s one where he’s holding up the cat plushie you gave him, a smile on his lips. You find that there are butterflies in your stomach after you see the message.

Time zones are horrible, but you set an alarm so you can remember to open up your laptop and watch him skate.

You send him a goodluck message, that he doesn’t read immediately because he must have his phone in his bag, since he’s about to skate soon.

And when the commentator announces Jungwon’s name, you see him skate out onto the rink. You murmur You got this! but obviously, you know he can’t hear you.

“Now, obviously Yang Jungwon is one of the most anticipated skaters at this Grand Prix competition. He delivered a sublime skate at Worlds last season, securing him the title as world champion.” you hear the commentator say, as Jungwon skates around the rink before getting into his starting position. “Yang Jungwon with the music: A Walk In The Skies.”

The music starts, and Jungwon moves across the ice in a way you’re most familiar with now. You’ve seen him do this program hundreds, maybe thousands of times — but at a competition, Jungwon’s got his A-game on. His movements are delicate, elegant and beautiful.

“First comes the quad lutz.” the commentator says, and you watch your screen intently as Jungwon takes off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing cleanly. “Yes!” you say, pumping your fist.

“Absolutely stunning.”

You agree with the commentator wholeheartedly.

“The quad toe-triple toe.” Jungwon lands the quad toe the second the commentator says that, and takes off into the triple toe — another clean jump.

You smile. He’s doing great, you think, as he does a flying camel spin. He looks happy as he skates as well. He seems to be enjoying the sport more and more each day.

Jungwon skates his entire program cleanly, with all green boxes on the left hand corner of your screen. His technical score is the highest among all the skaters, and he was the last to skate — you think that he’ll definitely place first in the short program.

“Yang Jungwon at his best, everyone.” the commentator says. “Yang did absolutely wonderful tonight, and I’m sure it will reflect on the scores.”

He bows, a genuine smile on his lips — one that he hasn’t shown in a long time at competitions as the cat plushies fall from the bleachers and onto the ice. He picks up as many as he can before leaving the rink while the flower kids pick up the rest, as the camera pans to him giving Irene a fist bump.

You think he’ll break 100. There’s no way he won’t.

As he sits in the Kiss and Cry nervously waiting for his scores, you sit at home on your couch, just as nervous as he is. The camera faces towards him, and Jungwon smiles at it, holding up one of the cat plushies he had received and mouthing a thank you.

“The scores, please.”

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon of South Korea is 111.45, his season’s best and currently puts him in first place.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you push your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, jumping up in excitement.

You watch as Jungwon pumps his fist up into the air before hugging Irene with pure joy on his face.

Jungwon doesn’t think he’s been this happy to place first in a long, long time. He had fun skating today. He also skated well today. And he’s currently in first.

Having fun and winning can coexist. Jungwon finds that out today as he bows once more before leaving the Kiss and Cry.

Jungwon thinks that he’s just a few steps away from loving skating again.

TWELVE. you, me (?) and the ice

Jungwon wins the men’s category of Skate Canada.

You welcome him back to Korea with a huge hug at the airport, slightly startling him but he hugs you back nevertheless. “You did so, so good!” you say, and Jungwon smiles.

“Thank you.” he says. “I haven’t felt this happy to win gold in so long.”

“You know I cried watching your free skate?” you say, and Jungwon looks at you, eyes widened. “Really?” he asks, as you lead him to your car.

“I was really proud. And happy. Because you looked like you liked skating again.” you say. “I did like skating there. I haven’t enjoyed skating competitively for so long… and I feel like I just did better when I enjoyed it.” he hums.

“Jungwon, you broke a world record, and you had fun while doing it.” you say.

“I did.” he replies. “If you had told that to me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

You load his luggage into the trunk of your car, motioning for him to get into the front seat. He does, and when you slide into the driver’s seat, he surprises you with a cute stuffed toy of an adorable polar bear — which are the plushies that your fans throw onto the ice after you skate.

“I saw this in a store window when I was heading back to the hotel, and it reminded me of you,” he says, handing it to you. “It’s so cute, Jungwon! Thank you.” you say, taking the toy in your hands. “Look, I even got it skates.” he says, pointing at the skates attached to the polar bear toy’s feet, making you chuckle.

“That’s so cool.” you say, setting it aside so you can drive. “I’m putting this on my nightstand.”

You do actually want to put it on your nightstand, but you decide to bring it with you to France. You pack it in your backpack the night before you leave. “You’re my good luck charm now,” you tell the stuffed toy.

And this time it’s Jungwon’s turn to send you off.

Like what you did when Jungwon was in Canada, he texts you as much as he can, updating you on the little things that go on at the rink, such as telling you about how Jiwon bought a hot dog, or Jongseob doing backflips on the ice nonstop.

He keeps his promise of watching you skate. He watches your short program on his bed, his dog Maeumi curling up beside him as he watches in anticipation. You skated clean in the short program, and as if Jungwon was actually in the arena right now, he erupts into applause.

“Look, Maeumi. (Name) did well.” he says, showing his dog the screen that showed the rankings. Maeumi only blinks at the screen.

When the time to watch your free skate rolls around, Jungwon drops everything to watch it. He ends his call with Wonyoung, when they’re talking about the family gathering next month that Jungwon doesn’t think that he’ll be able to make it to. “Sorry, Wonyo — something important just came up, I’ll call you back later.” he tells her, ending the call swiftly.

He sees you in the last group of skaters warming up — you’re going to skate last, because you placed first during the short program. He watches as you land a triple loop cleanly, and unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips.

He watches the other skaters skate before you, and they all do pretty well. There’s a couple of falls, and Jungwon winces when one of the skaters hits the ice particularly hard.

And when your name is announced, his eyes are immediately drawn to the screen, diverting his attention from Maeumi, who now also seems to be drawn to the laptop.

“Last to skate is (Name), representing South Korea. Now, (Name) had a wonderful season last year — placing 1st at the Grand Prix finals, and 2nd at the World Championships. Placed first in the short program, she’s surely aiming for the top of the podium here today.” the commentator says.

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as your music starts.

Every time you skate, Jungwon is in awe, and today is certainly no exception. You glide on the ice as smoothly as a flowing river, every movement of yours from your arm all the way to your fingertips controlled delicately.

Quad flip, Jungwon thinks at the same time the commentator says that out loud. You land it beautifully, and Jungwon nods his head, murmuring ‘nice’. Maeumi looks at Jungwon’s laptop screen, just as transfixed on your skating as his owner is.

Being able to watch your skating is a gift in itself, Jungwon thinks. Your performances are absolutely mesmerising, and Jungwon knows he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. You are a master at combining technique with artistry – without a doubt, it is clear to everybody that you were born to skate. As you continue with your program, Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure on the screen.

He has watched you do this program a million times. Every single time, he gets chills – every single time, you do it better than the last time. Everything is executed to perfection, and there is one thing Jungwon notices clearly as you skate. It is your passion for it.

You skate as if it'll be your last skate ever. You give your all, expressing every single emotion you feel and sharing it with the audience. You aren’t showing off your skills – you are telling a story. A tale of you and the ice.

You once mentioned to him that you had always wanted to fly. You might not have wings, but you have your skates. Aim higher. Soar higher. Despite how difficult figure skating is, and the injury that almost took you out of the sport — never once, have you thought to quit. Never once have you wanted to give up on your dream, and never once have you ever imagined a world without you skating.

Jungwon wants to skate with as much passion and love as you have for the sport. He has much to learn from you, and it is only when your music stops that he realises that a single tear drops from his eye.

You have single handedly changed Jungwon’s entire perspective of skating. You managed to help him fall back in love with the sport – and he knows he’s not fully there yet, but he’s close to it, and your encouragement played a huge part in it. He knows he would be miserable on the ice if you hadn’t.

And when your scores are announced, with everyone in the arena and everyone watching online hearing how you had broken a new world record, Jungwon jumps up from his bed with joy, a huge grin plastered on his lips.

Nobody deserves that gold medal more than you do.

THIRTEEN. thin ice

With each skate and each reminder that he should use the ice to release all his pressures and burdens, Jungwon enjoys skating more and more now.

Irene notices how Jungwon finds skating more exciting. Being subjected to only frowns and sighs of disappointment only for the past few years, she thinks it’s certainly a nice change – and deep inside, she hopes that Jungwon will change his mind about retirement.

He has been seriously considering it now. With him now being able to enjoy skating competitions, Jungwon finds himself wanting to compete next season, but still, a little part of him still wonders if he should let his first love go.

He thinks he’ll decide after the Olympics (that is if he makes the team, of course.) Jungwon knows he’ll have to put out a really good skate at Nationals in January. Despite that little devil telling him that if he doesn’t train morning, noon and night, he’ll lose, Jungwon decides to ignore it. He finds that he skates better when he’s having fun anyways.

NHK Trophy rolls around soon enough, and it’s both yours and Jungwon’s last Grand Prix assignment before the Final. You two are finally travelling together for the first time since the ice show, and you don’t forget to buy a cat plushie to hand to him after his free skate (you know he has plenty of them, but one more couldn’t hurt.)

Jungwon does the same, buying a polar bear plushie for you that he stuffs into his suitcase.

The competition goes well for both of you, with both of you winning silver medals and gaining a spot in the Grand Prix Final.

You both fall once in the free skate, with the winners of the competition skating cleanly for both programs. The Jungwon a couple months ago would be terribly upset about it – but now, Jungwon is happy about silver. He podiumed whilst skating happily. Something that he didn’t think he’d be able to do again.

When Jungwon hands you the polar bear plushie after your free skate, he doesn’t realise that a camera goes off the second you take hold of it in your hands. And when you hand him the cat plushie after his free skate, another camera goes off as well – you both don’t find out until somehow Dispatch releases an article about it.

First of all, Jungwon wonders why you two are on Dispatch anyways. You two aren’t idols, and you doubt that the public would really care about either of your romantic lives, but Jungwon finds that he is very wrong after reading some of the comments from netizens. Second of all, he wonders why he didn’t notice the camera flash when both incidents happened. Third of all, he examines his face closely – and he thinks that the smile he’s giving you is one of the brightest ones of his that’s been seen on camera.

Harua texts him a ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a link to the article and too many emojis that it gives Jungwon an eyesore. Jungwon replies with a no and a middle finger emoji. Harua knows well enough that you and Jungwon aren’t together.

Yuzuru texts him ‘Are you two finally together? Congratulations!’ with perfect capitalisation and a link to the article. Jungwon replies with another no, but this time with a smiley face instead of the middle finger. Yuzuru texts him a thumbs up. His follow up message reads I’m sure it’ll happen soon though, and Jungwon just sends back a ‘hahahahaha’.

And you’re subjected to merciless teasing from Riki, who spams the article link in your chat. You honestly think it’s much worse than the comments from some of the netizens you read. But honestly, what the netizens say isn't even that bad. Except for the comments from the ones who want Jungwon to be theirs. Those ones you just laugh at, because honestly, they’re quite hilarious. You’ve never read such creative insults directed at you.

But the articles make Jungwon think.

About the possibility of being in a relationship with you. He’s established that he thinks he likes you (or at least his feelings for you do fit what Wonyoung and Google have said about what liking someone is like), but Jungwon has never thought about… dating.

Quite frankly, Jungwon thinks that he’d be scared to tell you about his feelings – because he knows that once you confess, that relationship would be changed forever. You can’t go back to just friends when the other knows that you want to be more than that. And what happens if the relationship doesn’t work out? Do you just act like the whole thing never happened? Or do you just cut the other person off completely?

The latter option is absolutely not possible considering that you and Jungwon are training mates too.

This is complicated. And thinking about it makes Jungwon’s head hurt.

But then he looks at the cat plushie on his bed that you had given to him after he finished skating his free program. The joy that fills his heart is immense, and he can’t stop the lovestruck grin from spreading across his lips.

Is this what the movies and books described as being struck by Cupid’s arrow? Because if so, Jungwon thinks that Cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart, with your name engraved on the tip of it.

Jungwon can’t stop thinking about you. His day is instantly made the second he sees you walk through the doors of the Taereung ice rink, and he looks at you as if you've got the whole universe in your hands. Every single move you make, every single smile you send his way makes that blooming feeling in Jungwon’s chest get warmer, warmer, and warmer.

Jungwon likes you. He thinks he really, really likes you.

And coming to that conclusion doesn’t make him as afraid as he thought he'd be. He’s calm, and he thinks his conclusion just seems right. As if the final piece of the puzzle is put into place, Jungwon’s feelings for you are finally sorted out.

Jungwon doesn’t need Harua, Wonyoung or Google to tell him that he likes you.

He just knows it.

Confessing is a whole other story, but Jungwon thinks that when the right time comes, he’ll do it. He doesn’t know much about love, with his entire life practically being devoted to the ice – but he knows that when it feels right, it must be the right time.

So, Jungwon comes to two conclusions that night.

One: he really likes you, and he doesn’t need anyone else to confirm it for him.

Two: he can’t believe that a Dispatch article made him realise that he really liked you.

FOURTEEN. public skating session

You ask Jungwon if you’d like to skate at another public rink after the Grand Prix Final is over.

He immediately says yes.

He doesn’t take you up on the offer to wear rental skates though, so both of you lace up your skates on the bench, Jungwon putting your bags into a cubbyhole.

“Let’s go, Wonie!” you say, and he finds his heart fluttering at the nickname. He follows you onto the rink like the first time, and you two skate side by side, at a way slower pace than usual to be mindful of the other skaters at the rink.

“How does it feel to be the 2026 Grand Prix Final champion?” you ask him, and he smiles at you. “Hmm. I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. “I should be asking you that.”

You and Jungwon both winning in your respective categories were amazing for the media. Yang Jungwon and (Name), figure skaters rumoured to be dating win Men’s Grand Prix Final and Women’s Grand Prix Final was the headline. But at least Dispatch can add more to their article, and you and Jungwon get to go home with shiny gold medals.

“Feels pretty good. Two years in a row,” you say, and he pats you on the back. “You deserved it,” Jungwon says. “Have I ever told you how in awe I am whenever I watch you skate?”

“Thank you,” you say, chuckling as your cheeks turn hot at the compliment. “Your skating is amazing as well — that step sequence in World Dreams? Gave me actual chills. I saw a tear drop from a woman’s eye when I was seated in the crowd.”

“Really?” Jungwon asks, and you nod. “She was bawling by the end of it, I think.” you say, and Jungwon softly smiles. “I’m glad my skating made her feel something… hopefully all good things though.”

“Most definitely good things. She threw 5 cat plushies onto the ice. I think she’s a hardcore fan.” you reply. “She might’ve dethroned my spot as your number one fan.”

“Hey,” Jungwon says, pouting. “You texted me when I was at Skate Canada saying that you’d always be my number one fan.”

“Yeah, but she was like a diehard fan,” you say. “Don’t worry though, I’ll throw out 15 cat plushies when you skate during Nationals. I’m taking my spot back.”

“I’ll throw out more than 15 polar bear plushies when you skate at Nationals. I’ll throw out 16.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, a smile never leaving his lips.

“We can just be each other’s number one fan.” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Deal. So can I get your autograph?” he jokes.

“Sure thing,” you say, playing along. You motion for him to hold his palm out, and you trace your autograph on his hand. “There you go!” you say, tracing a smiley face and a heart as well.

“I’ll treasure this forever,” he quips.

“You better.”

You two fall into a comfortable silence as you both skate laps around the rink, observing the other people there. Like last time, there are couples on dates, there are little kids learning to skate, and there’s people who actually figure skate, doing spins in the centre of the rink.

“Right, I was going to say. You seem way, way more happier on the ice than you were before,” you tell Jungwon, who nods. “Yeah. I think I actually like skating again. I mean… I can’t exactly say love, because you know… sometimes I just revert back to the way I used to think whenever I fail at something.” he replies. “But competitions are a lot more fun. The ice doesn’t drain me of all my energy anymore, and winning medals sort of brings me fulfilment again.”

“That’s amazing, Won.” you say.

Now that you think about it. Jungwon wanted to retire because he didn’t love skating anymore. But now that Jungwon enjoys it again, you’re left wondering if he’ll still continue competitive skating.

It’s as if Jungwon’s able to read your mind. “I’m not sure if I’ll retire or not. On one hand, skating is fun now… and I’d like to continue at least maybe for a little longer, but I’m also wondering if I should just… let go. Explore things outside of skating, even though I know I’ll probably come back to the ice every time.”

You let his words sink in for a moment. “I think… you don’t have to decide your future plans this early. You could decide at the Olympics, after you skate. Or you could even go to Worlds after the Olympics and decide then.”

“Yeah. I could do that.” Jungwon breathes out. “I’m just… indecisive and unsure of everything right now.”

“No, I get it,” you nod. “You have time, Jungwon. Don’t rush things.” you tell him.

Jungwon agrees with you. Thinking about too much and thinking too far ahead were two of the many reasons why he fell out of love with figure skating. Now that he’s slowly started to enjoy it again, he knows he has to rid himself of his bad habits.

“Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to retire. If I was, I would’ve already done it by now.” he says, smiling. “And if I don’t retire this season, I’ll probably just retire in 2030. I can still fulfil my dream of leaving at the biggest stage.”

“I feel like I’d do that as well, if I’m not gonna lie.” you say, and Jungwon tilts his head. “So are we retiring together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… if you don’t retire during this Olympics, then probably. But do what feels right, Won. Don’t do it because you feel pressure from others to keep going. If you love the sport, you’ll always find a way back to it, like something like professional skating, or coaching, or doing commentary. If you think it’s time, then it’s time.”

Jungwon can always count on you for giving him great advice.

“You’re right.” he says. “Anyways… enough about that.” he spots a penguin skating aid in the corner, and he skates up to grab a hold of it. He pushes it as he skates, and you can’t help but find the mere action adorable.

You pull out your phone to record him, and you chuckle as you see him skate faster towards you. “Cute,” you say, and Jungwon’s cheeks flush pink. If you ask, he’ll blame it on the rink being cold.

“You use it,” he says, pushing the skating aid towards you. You gladly take it, grabbing ahold of the handles, pushing it as you skate with Jungwon by your side.

Talking to Jungwon is easy. He tells you about how he stores his medals in ziplock bags when he needs to take them to interviews, to which you propose a better idea: using socks (a trick you learned from none other than Yuzuru Hanyu himself.) He also tells you about his dog, Maeumi, who apparently had watched your Grand Prix de France free skate with him – Jungwon says that Maeumi was absolutely mesmerised by your performance, and it’s interesting how every single thing Jungwon says is able to bring a smile to your face.

You tell him that you’d like to meet Maeumi, and he tells you that you’re welcome over anytime. Your heart flutters at the invitation that you accept warmly. “In fact, you could come over after we leave.”

“Really?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “It’s not like we’ll be spending more than an hour here anyways. We already spend most of our days at another rink – we’d get way too bored if we spend hours here like everyone else.”

Jungwon is right. After 20 minutes of more skating and just talking to each other about your lives (as if you didn’t learn nearly absolutely everything about him during the off-season), you and Jungwon head over to his apartment, where you meet Maeumi.

And as you play with Maeumi, gushing over how cute he is, you notice the fond smile on Jungwon’s lips as he watches you two from the couch.

You don’t know why, but that look on Jungwon’s face makes you think that perhaps you two could be something more than friends.

FIFTEEN. last nationals skate (?)

Jangmi calls Jungwon the day before the short program for Nationals.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she tells him. “It’s your career, not mine.”

Jungwon sighs. “It’s fine. I don’t think I know what I want to do with my career either. Retiring is an option, and competing… also is another option now.”

Jangmi somehow sounds happier at the sound of Jungwon’s words. “That's… good,” she says, trying to not make it obvious that continuing to skate is still an option for Jungwon. “What changed your mind?”

“I started liking it again.” he says, gazing at the sheet of ice in the Uijeongbu ice rink. The ice finally feels like home again, and instead of bringing him dread, Jungwon feels at ease at the rink now. The pressure is no longer something that drags him under – it is now something he uses to allow himself to skate better.

Now when he skates, he feels his passion for it again. “Even the brightest of flames burn out,” you had said. His flame dimmed, nearly being put out entirely – but he’s more than happy to have been able to ignite it again.

And as his music starts playing for the short program, Jungwon realises something as he glides across the ice elegantly.

If he retires, this will be his last ever Nationals.

This crowd, this rink, this atmosphere – it’ll be the last time he ever gets to experience this. He stays completely focused on his program, but this thought lingers at the back of his mind when he lands the quad lutz.

The audience cheers, and Jungwon’s eyes catch sight of the banners that fans have made for him in the crowd, with encouraging words that bring a smile to Jungwon’s face.

When he finishes his short program, Jungwon pumps his fist into the air, more than satisfied with his performance. He skates around the rink as the audience throws stuffed animals onto the ice, picking some up as he thanks the crowd.

He bows before leaving the rink, Irene pulling him into a hug after he puts his skate guards on. “You did amazing.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Thank you,” he replies, as he makes his way to the Kiss and Cry.

As he waits patiently for his scores, he can’t stop thinking about how if he does decide to retire at the end of this season, that was his last ever short program at Nationals. He didn’t think this far ahead when he told Irene that he wanted to hang up his skates at the beginning of the off season, and now that he realises that he may be nearing the end of his career, Jungwon suddenly starts feeling a wave of sadness.

He was nothing but sure about his decision when he told Irene that he’d be retiring. But now, sitting in the Kiss and Cry at quite possibly one of his last competitions ever, Jungwon thinks he might just want to hold on for a little longer.

“The scores, please.” the announcer says, ending Jungwon’s train of thought.

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon is 112.36, which currently puts him in first place.”

The crowd erupts into cheers at his score, and Jungwon smiles in satisfaction while Irene claps. “Good job,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her. He stands up, bowing once again before leaving the Kiss and Cry, and everything just slowly starts sinking in.

If this was his last short program ever at Nationals, at least he did well.

But Jungwon doesn’t want this to be his last ever Nationals. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to just leave the ice has completely disappeared in a matter of months, and Jungwon now just wants to stay.

Maybe it isn’t time to hang up his skates.

After finding his passion for skating again, Jungwon just wants to feel the thrill of competition. He dreaded competitions months ago, but now his feelings towards the ice have completely changed. Winning medals can finally bring him satisfaction again – he’s being acknowledged for being good at something that he loves.

He can now look at the cameras while standing atop that podium with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t feel like he’s a robot anymore, with every move he makes when he skates programmed into his brain – he feels like he’s a writer, or a poet, telling his story on the ice.

He changes out of his costume, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants before leaving the locker room. He checks the time, realising that there’s only an hour until the women’s free skate – he promised you that he’d be in the crowd.

With 16 polar bear stuffed animals that he currently does not have.

He rushes to the nearest toy shop, asking the staff if they have polar bear plushies still in stock, and luckily, they do. The shop assistant helping him looks slightly concerned when he asks for 16, but still brings them all out in a basket. “Is this for (Name)?” she asks, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, confused as to how she would know that.

“Yeah… how’d you know?”

“Bunch of people came in asking for polar bear stuffed toys to throw onto the ice for her.” she says, scanning all the polar bears. “Oh. That’s nice of them.” Jungwon replies.

“You bought the most.” the shop assistant says, putting all of them into a large shopping bag for Jungwon, noticing how he only has a backpack that most certainly won’t fit 16 polar bear toys.

“Oh, cool.” he says, swiping his card on the reader. The transaction goes through, and the shop assistant smiles at him before handing him his receipt. “Good luck to both you and (Name) on your free skates,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her before leaving the store.

He makes it back to the Uijeongbu ice rink just in time, with Jongseob saving him a seat. “That’s a shit ton of polar bears you’ve got there,” Jongseob says, holding a plushie of Artemis from the Sailor Moon series to throw on the ice after Jiwon skates.

“Yeah.” Jungwon replies, putting the shopping bag onto the ground.

“You’re a dedicated boyf– fan!”

“Enough.”

There’s five groups of skaters, and you’re the last to skate. Jungwon cheers for each and every skater, but his cheers will definitely be the loudest for you. Jongseob yells as his life depends on it when Jiwon skates onto the ice.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to skate. You look at the crowd, spotting Jungwon and Jongseob sitting together and you flash Jungwon a smile, whilst a shit-eating grin spreads across Jongseob’s lips. “Good luck,” he mouths to you, and you nod as a way of saying thank you.

Your program goes well, for the most part – aside from falling on a quad toe loop and stepping out on a triple lutz. Jungwon knows that you’ve done enough to secure a podium spot – and a spot on the Olympic team, and it seems as if you know that too, tears streaming down your face the minute you finish your program.

You’re going to the Olympics. You’ve finally achieved your lifelong dream.

Cheers and applause resound throughout the rink, with tons of polar bear stuffed toys being thrown out onto the ice by fans, and Jungwon is one of them. You see him throw out polar bear after polar bear from the shopping bag he’s holding, and a sweet smile spreads across Jungwon’s lips as he sees your surprised face.

“16?” you mouth at him, and Jungwon nods. You can’t help but clap your hands over your mouth to hide your laughter, and as the announcer calls your name again, you skate into the middle of the rink, bowing once again before leaving.

Eventually, it is you, Jiwon and another skater named Kim Chaeyeon who get named to the Olympic team.

Like how Jungwon bought 16 plushies for you during your free skate, you buy 17. It’s a funny coincidence how you both end up going to the same toy shop, and the shop assistant gives you a smile when you enter. “Could I get… 17 cat plushies?”

“This is for Yang Jungwon, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“He said the same thing when he came in yesterday to get 16 polar bear plushies for you,” she says, taking the toys and putting them into a basket. You have a nice conversation with her before you leave the shop with a large bag holding exactly 17 cat plushies.

You notice multiple things when you’re in the audience. Jiwon has a stuffed animal of a tiger in her lap that she throws out onto the ice when Jongseob skates. She also gives you a look as if to tell you not to tease her about it. You also see tons of people holding cat plushies, ready to throw onto the ice after Jungwon skates, and you’re one of those people too.

You also notice the passion Jungwon now has for skating. He commands the ice, moving fluidly across the rink – Jungwon is a phenomenal skater. Goosebumps rise up on your skin, and you don’t think any other skater has been able to convey emotions to the audience this effectively.

Like you, Jungwon qualifies for a spot on the Olympic team.

He gazes at you as you throw cat plushies onto the ice, and a fond smile spreads across his lips. “17?” he mouths at you, and you nod.

Jungwon wonders if your heart’s beating as fast as his.

Little does he know, it is.

SIXTEEN. born to skate

Just being able to go to the Olympics is truly sensational.

You weren’t even able to fully process it until you saw a staff member walk up to you and hand you your Olympic security pass. Your name’s on it, along with the 2026 Milano Cortina logo on the right – and under your name, it says athlete.

You can’t believe a security pass might actually make you burst into tears.

Jungwon hangs his security pass over his neck, and then turns to look at you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “It’s just kind of crazy. I’m going to compete at the Olympics – Wonie, oh my god. I’m an Olympian.”

“You are,” he says. He takes your hand, locking his fingers with yours and gives your hand a tight squeeze. The mere action makes your face feel hot, your heart beating in your chest incredibly fast. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.”

“You will too,” you say, beaming at him. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Jungwon doesn’t want to let go either.

He only let go when Jongseob and Jiwon were walking towards you two.

That aside, time seems to go by faster for some reason. You arrived in Italy 2 days before the men’s short program event, and today’s already the day. Jungwon changes into his costume, and zips on the South Korea team jacket before he leaves the changing room.

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but it’ll go away when I start skating.” he replies, and you smile. “You’ve got this, Won.” you say, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Before he starts skating, Jungwon looks into the crowd to spot where you’re seated. You give him a thumbs up, and he smiles softly before getting into his starting position.

Jungwon has missed the Olympic ice.

In the crowd, you notice how Jungwon’s skating even better than he did at Nationals. He skates with pure emotion – as if this skate could very well be his last.

Then the realisation hits you like a truck.

If Jungwon did decide to retire, sticking with his original plans – this would be his last competitive short program, ever. And now every move he makes on the ice seems to have a whole new meaning for you.

He skates like he’s got everything on the line. Time and time again, Jungwon tells the audience that he was born to skate – but this performance proves it. Every jump, every spin, every transition, every choreo sequence and every step sequence is executed to absolute perfection.

Yang Jungwon is a master of his craft. Nobody can doubt that.

Nobody will doubt that after this performance.

Jungwon has sacrificed hours, days, months and years to produce a performance like this. He has never felt such fulfilment, such satisfaction after skating – the only word he can use to describe how he feels after his skate is that he is proud.

He is proud that he was able to put out a performance like that. He is proud that he’ll be recognised for an impeccable short program. But most importantly, he is proud that he delivered a program of such quality whilst enjoying every moment he had on that Olympic ice.

And when the scores are announced, saying that he is currently in first, Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. Irene hugs him tightly, and Jungwon’s practically shaking in disbelief.

Nobody beats his short program score for the night. Jungwon knows the medal is just within his reach.

Feeling victory finally feels good, and Jungwon hasn’t even won yet.

When you rush up to him immediately after he exits his changing room, you wrap him in a huge hug, and at first, he’s startled by your action. But he immediately hugs you back, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink that he knows he’ll get teased about if Harua sees it.

“Won, that was incredible!” you could gush over his performance for hours and hours on end. “You were absolutely mesmerising. The image you were painting inside my head – all of our heads! It was so vivid. I felt like I could feel what you felt as you were skating. Everyone was blown away. You’re absolutely sensational.”

Jungwon thinks of you in an incredibly high regard. So hearing these words from you makes his eyes well up slightly with tears, and you immediately notice.

“Don’t cry!” you say, wrapping him in another hug. “I just needed you to know how incredible you are.”

Jungwon needs you to know how incredible you are as well.

He feels nothing but warmth as he’s in your embrace, and truly, perhaps this is what Jungwon thinks he might call love. Because you care for him in a way that nobody else has. You didn’t know him well at the time, but still offered to try and get him to enjoy skating again. You push him to be a better skater, and a better person – and Jungwon didn’t think he knew what love was.

But now he thinks he does.

Quite simply, love is you.

And he cares for you more than he cares about anyone else, even if he thinks that he is terrible at showing it. He isn’t the best when it comes to love, or relationships – but he’s learning. He’s learning all because of you.

In less than one year, you have changed Jungwon’s life entirely.

You’ve taught him how to have fun skating again. You’ve taught him to allow himself to loosen up, and not let pressure define him. You’ve also taught him what it’s like to be loved. And how to love.

Jungwon doesn’t know if this is a stretch, but he feels like you might’ve quite literally saved him. Jungwon is forever grateful for the fact that you walked into his life the moment he needed someone like you.

And Jungwon is more than sure that he indeed does love you.

Jungwon feels relief when he finally admits it to himself. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knew that he loved you all this time – he just didn’t exactly confront himself about his feelings.

With you by his side, Jungwon feels like an Olympic gold medalist already.

SEVENTEEN. olympic ice

The free skate rolls around faster than Jungwon thought.

But he thinks that he’s prepared. He’ll give it his all tonight. He doesn’t even think about the upcoming decision he has to make about his career – he personally believes that the idea that he could possibly win Olympic gold feels a little more important than that.

He knows you’re in the crowd, watching him. It gives him an extra boost of confidence. Jungwon doesn’t realise this until now, but he seems to skate better when you’re in the audience. Perhaps you’re his lucky charm.

He’s last to skate, being first in the short program. Jungwon’s fully focused during the couple minutes of warm up, jumping a triple axel that he manages to land well, and a quad toe that he finds is a little shaky on the landing, but he’ll try and land it cleanly in the actual program.

Over the speaker, it’s announced that the warmup time is over. Jungwon and some of the other skaters leave the ice, and the first person skating in the group starts his program.

Whilst the other skater performs, Jungwon runs through his entire program in his head. He can’t let the pressure get to him – he knows he’ll do worse. He reminds himself to have fun. He’ll be skating on Olympic ice for possibly the last time ever, so he knows that he’ll have to make this count.

Your words ring in his head as he waits for the skaters before him to finish performing their programs. Skating is something that is meant to be enjoyed with the audience.

Jungwon decides that he will enjoy every minute and every second of it.

Irene gives him a thumbs up before he skates out to the centre of the rink. “You’ve got this, Jungwon. Stay focused, stay calm.” she tells him, and Jungwon nods.

“You go kill it out there.” she says, smiling at him.

Jungwon skates off, and Irene just has the proudest look on her face. She knows that this could very well be the last competitive skate of Jungwon’s life. No matter the result, she would be proud – Yang Jungwon has accomplished so much in his career at the age of 22.

“Last to skate: Yang Jungwon, of South Korea!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Jungwon raising his arms above his head. He lets them fall back down by his sides, doing a couple twizzles around the rink before skating into the centre.

He gets into his starting position, and the music starts.

He’s done this program tons and tons of times before. He knows exactly what to do at the exact second, twirling across the ice gracefully. First, is the quad lutz.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he sets up the jump, taking off – and he lands it.

With one jump, Jungwon makes the crowd go absolutely crazy. Their shouts die down soon after, allowing Jungwon to listen to the music so he knows when and what he needs to do next.

He successfully lands more jumps, including a quad salchow-quad toe loop combo that he’s able to land flawlessly. Everything is going well, Jungwon thinks.

As he skates beautiful transitions on the ice, you catch his eye. You’re gazing right at him with the softest look on your face, and Jungwon thinks his heart might melt. You nod at him, as a way to tell him that he’s doing great.

Jungwon doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but in the middle of his Olympic free skate, he feels more compelled to confess his feelings for you than ever.

He knows that he just has to tell you.

When he realised he liked you, he decided that he had to wait for the right time to confess. He didn’t exactly know when the right time would be, or if he would ever even find the right time. He also certainly didn’t expect it to be right in the middle of his free skate.

But everything is crystal clear. Jungwon knows it’s the right time, and he can’t exactly shout out that he loves you when he’s currently preparing to jump a triple axel, but he knows the second he’s able to, he will.

It’s as if time slows, and you’re the only one in the audience. Jungwon only sees you. You two are just in your little bubble – just you, him, and the ice.

Jungwon skates with so much power, and so much emotion, trying to express every word he wants to say to you, but with his skating. The crowd’s cheers get louder every time Jungwon lands a jump, and it only gives Jungwon motivation to keep getting better and better.

Olympic gold is so close. If he just reached up and grabbed it, the shining gold plaque would be right in his hands – and Jungwon knows that he cannot let that slip away between his fingers. His whole life has led up to this moment. Falling in love with the ice, then finding that he had let himself hate it, and then trying to ignite that love and passion he had for skating once more. All of this, allowed for him to skate the cleanest program he’s ever skated at the world’s biggest stage for figure skating.

The music ends, and the crowd erupts with cheers. Jungwon stands there, shocked and still in his ending position. He feels like he can’t move.

He can’t believe it.

Did he just win Olympic gold?

Countless cat plushies fall onto the ice around him as Jungwon just bursts into tears. Irene’s crying as well, tears of joy streaming down on her face as she claps. Jungwon tries to spot you in the crowd, and when he does, he sees you jumping up and down excitedly with Jiwon, and you just look so incredibly happy for him.

After the toughest years of his career, fighting to try and keep going in a sport he loved no longer, Jungwon is finally able to love figure skating again, and he might have just won Olympic gold in the process.

He’s still in shock when he leaves the rink, and Irene pulls him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him, as Jungwon cries into her shoulder. “You did it.” she says.

“I did it.” he says – he can’t even believe the words he just said. He heads to the Kiss and Cry with Irene, pulling out tissues from his tissue box nonstop to wipe his tears away.

Jungwon waits in the Kiss and Cry for his scores – he knows that he’s won. He just needs the scores to confirm it.

And sure enough, mere minutes later, Yang Jungwon is announced as the 2026 men’s Olympic figure skating champion.

Jungwon can’t stop crying. Tears just keep falling down his cheeks as he bows to everyone. He can’t even use the word joy to describe what he’s feeling. He never thought he could feel this happy after winning a competition.

If you told Jungwon months ago that he’d be crying tears of joy after winning a competition, he most certainly wouldn’t have believed you.

The venue ceremony is soon. So soon to the point where Jungwon isn’t even able to come up to you and tell you how he feels. He’ll do it as soon as the ceremony is over.

As Jungwon steps onto the highest block on the podium, he’s still in disbelief. It isn’t until the medal actually gets hung around his neck, and he touches the shiny golden plaque. He’s not just Olympian Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 2025 World champion Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 6 time National champion Yang Jungwon.

Now, he’s also Olympic champion Yang Jungwon.

Falling back in love with skating was hard. Sometimes he felt like simply just giving up was the easier option – but now with the Olympic gold medal right in his hands, Jungwon knows that pushing through it was the right thing to do. He’s never been more sure of that.

Jungwon has also never been more sure about the fact that he loves you, and he desperately needs to tell you. As soon as the venue ceremony is over, Jungwon rushes out of the rink, quickly changing from his skates to his regular training shoes – he doesn’t even bother to change out of his free skate costume.

He finds you standing outside of his changing room, and before you can say anything, he wraps you in the tightest hug ever. He holds you like you’re oxygen, and he’s struggling to breathe.

When he pulls away from the hug, with the gold medal dangling around his neck, he grasps ahold of your hands. “Jungwon, you did it.” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” he murmurs. He opens the door of his changing room, pulling you in with him as he shuts the door. “What is it?” you ask.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I have never, ever known what it’s like to love someone. Even figuring out that I liked you was so hard – because I knew that I felt differently when I was around you, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it on what it was. Then, I was told I had a crush on you. I liked you. And that seemed right. Liking you seemed right.” he says, as you let his words sink in. “I was going to wait until I found the right time to tell you that I liked you. But two days ago, I realised that my feelings towards you seem to be more than like. Love. Yes. I love you.” he says, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Saying it sounds right. Saying it now feels right. And I don’t know if you would feel the same way – but I just saw you in the crowd as I was skating today, and I just knew I had to tell you.”

Jungwon can’t exactly read your reaction until you pull him into a hug.

“I love you too.” you say.

Jungwon feels like he’s on top of the world. Four simple words managed to make him even happier than he already was after winning the Olympics – he feels like his heart is about to burst at the seams, and he can’t hide the bright grin on his lips.

“That’s… that’s nice. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” Jungwon confesses, and you frown, cupping his cheeks as you wipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way, Jungwon?”

“I don’t know.”

You smile softly at him. “I realised that I liked you after we went to the ramen shop that Harua had suggested to us.”

“You realised earlier than me, then.” Jungwon chuckles.

“I guess so.”

Jungwon can’t believe he only just realised the close proximity between your faces. Your gaze travels to his lips, before you look back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Jungwon whispers back.

You lean in, connecting your lips with his, and warmth just blooms across Jungwon’s chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tip of his ears. He can taste the mint flavoured lip balm that he always sees you put on, and it’s only when you pull away that Jungwon realises that it was his first kiss.

You smile at him brightly, and Jungwon mirrors the expression on your face. It’s hard not to smile when he sees you – you just make him so incredibly happy. Jungwon knows that you make him happier than any Olympic gold ever would.

The sweet moment is cut short when Jungwon’s whisked away to the press conference, and you tell him that you’ll be seated in the crowd to watch. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before running off, his cheeks tinted bright red as you chuckle at his reaction.

“How do you feel after a wildly successful season like this, Jungwon?” a reporter asks, and Jungwon thinks about what is the best way to answer his question.

“This was… a tough season for me mentally.” he says into the microphone. “In all honesty, I fell out of love with figure skating quite some time ago. Going into this season, I was certain that I was going to retire after the Olympics.”

Every single person in the room looks at him with wide eyes.

“But, during the off season, I was lucky enough to meet someone who helped me start enjoying it again.” he says, looking directly at you. “They taught me that above all, I should be enjoying myself while I skate, instead of focusing on the pressures to win and do well.”

“I don’t think I expected to do as well as I did all season,” Jungwon says earnestly. “But I realised that the more I enjoyed skating, the better I did. I think coming into the Olympics, I just tried to focus on having fun and showing the audience my best. Because of this, I think that’s why I was able to do well.”

“So will this be your last competition?”

Jungwon presses his lips together in a thin line, as if he’s still unsure about what decision he’s going to make. But when he locks eyes with you, it’s like everything clicks into place. He knows what he wants. He wants to skate.

“It’s not my last competition,” he says. “I’m going to keep competing. At least for a little while longer. I realised that I can’t exactly let go of the ice this soon when I’ve just started loving it again.”

As he says that into the microphone, Jungwon knows that it’s the right call. There’s a proud smile on your lips, and Jungwon returns the gesture.

The ice finally feels like home once more. But, Jungwon also realises that home is also wherever you are.

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