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springseasonie · 2 months

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Notice Me | LHC (M)

Friends to lovers

Summary: You and your friends go to a college party, and tonight is the night where you are finally going to try and catch your crush's attention, who also happens to be one of your good friends. He doesn't think that he thinks of you in that way, but what happens when he sees you with another guy at the party?

Warnings: sexual content, protected sex, auralism, guided masturbation (kinda), sensory deprivation, super vanilla, reader is legally blind (trust it's important 🙏🏾), long haired haechan, violence (minor fight scene), special appearances: Karina and Yunjin

Word count: 7,5k

Song recs: moment by Victoria Monet

A/N: wrote this on a random whim. Def not my best writing but oh well. Hope you guys like it. I will start working on request after this one I promise 🫶🏾 feedback is loved and appreciated

“Are you guys sure I don't look crazy?”

“Yes we're sure! Now let's go, we're already 45 minutes late and Mark is yelling at me in my messages!”

Karina grabbed your hand, pulling you into the frat house followed by your other best friend Yujin. A chill ran down your spine and also your legs, never having this much skin exposed. This was new to you– dressing in skimpy clothes and college parties. But that wasn't the only thing new to you. Having a crush is also very new.

The only reason you're even here is because of him. Haechan to be exact, who is a part of your friend group. He's the exact opposite of you– loud, cheerful, outgoing. But maybe that's why you like him so much. Opposites attract.

And that's why you're standing in the middle of the doorway, looking like a deer in headlights in the shortest skirt and tiniest top ever. Tonight was gonna be all about catching his attention. It was going to be about making him look at you like a woman and not a friend.

You walk through the crowd of people, their bodies constantly smashing yours. The constant bumping makes your glasses slide down your nose, making you fear that you may lose them. Most people think you're being dramatic when you say you can't see without them, but you're as blind as a bat.

Mark and Haechan soon come into view, standing in a circle with their other friends from the basketball team.

“But don't you guys remember- woah..” Mark turned his head, stopping mid sentence when he saw Karina, and Yujin walking towards them.

“Hey guys,” Yunjin said excitedly.

Everyone said their hellos, but you couldn't help but notice the way their eyes lingered on you, all except Haechan. He spared you one glance and one hello before going silent, sipping whatever it was in his cup. You felt yourself die inside, the way he was treating you like an acquaintance all of a sudden. Was it too much? Did you go too far?

“Sorry were we so late, it takes a long time getting ready,” Karina says, fixing her hair.

“I'm sure it did.” Mark is still eyeing you like you've said something weird. None of them has ever seen you like this. You're always pretty much covered up. Hoodies and leggings are your daily attire.

Mark turns his attention to you, scoffing in disbelief. “And look at you, walking in here looking like a sexy Velma.”

“Oh shut up, she looks good. Right Haechan, doesn't she look good,” Yujin inquires.

The male glances at you then back to Yujin then at Mark, whose brow is raised waiting for his answer. “You look…nice Y/N.”

Nice? That's it? “Thanks,” you say, hands glued to your sides.

Karina sighed, shaking her head at the dry response. “You guys suck at compliments,” she said. “Anyway, let's go get something to drink.” She took a hold of both Yujin and your hands, pulling you to the kitchen.

Eyes never left your figure since you walked in the building. There were other girls dressed just like you, but for some reason all attention remained on you, and you didn't like it. So used to being a background character in your own life, you'll never get used to attention.

“God you look hot, we did so good,” Yujin whispered to you, her voice slightly muffled because of the loud music.

“Do I? He didn't have much of a reaction,” you argued, a frown tugging at your lips.

“Everyone's been ogling at you all night, even Mark. You definitely look hot,” Karina reassures. “Besides, maybe you'll meet someone else here that you'll like. Haechan doesn't know what he's missing.”

“Yeah, honestly if he doesn't do anything tonight, you need to move on sister,” Yunjin adds. “Can't keep dwelling on the same guy for 3 years.”

But you don't want to move on. And if he rejects you, you know that you can't regardless. You'll still like him, because he's a good guy and always has been. There's probably nothing that could make you think anything less. Karina continued to pull you to the kitchen between the bodies when you suddenly bumped your shoulder into someone, causing them to drop something.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-”

“It's no problem,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No big deal. It was just my phone.”

You didn't even notice you lost the hold of Karina’s hand at this point, your attention being on the man in front of you. “D-did it break? I'll pay for it.”

“No, it's doing just fine,” he said, placing the phone in his pocket without sparing a glance. He eyed you up and down, his gaze undressing you right in front of him. “What's your name?”

“Y/N,” you answered, gulping slightly out of nervousness. “Yours?”

“Johnny.” Licking his lips, he narrows his eyes slightly while speaking to you. “You new around here? I've never seen you on campus before.”

“Well, I actually don't go here,” you say, words leaving your mouth a little too fast. “I have a couple of friends that do. They invited me to this party.”

“Cool,” he said. “Can I… get you a drink?”

Your eyes widened, a bit taken back by the sudden request, but you didn't disapprove of it at all. Johnny was cute, tall, had a nice voice and seemed like a nice guy. So why not take the offer? “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”

“Man, he sure is chatting her up,” Mark remarks, watching you and the unknown guy stand and talk while sipping on your drink.

“How can he not? She looks great tonight,” Yunjin comments. “Doesn't she Haechan?”

Haechan furrows his brows, side eyeing her as he man-spreads on the couch they're all sitting on. “Why me specifically?”

“Why not?” Yunjin shrugs.

Haechan rolls his eyes, looking down at his lap trying to focus on anything but the scene in front of him, but he can't help it. You did look good, you looked great. But for some reason he couldn't say it. His stiffness towards you when you came in was because of how different you looked. Haechan wouldn't say he had a crush on you , more so complicated feelings. He didn't yearn for you, but he wouldn't hate it if something sprung from your friendship.

Haechan knows that his female friends are attractive. Guys always talk about Karina and Yunjin, telling him that he should pursue them or sleep with them, that he's wasting his time being friends. He's never looked at them in that way, but with you it's a different story. You're easy to talk to, and you have lots in common with him. He also loves your glasses. It's something you don't like about yourself, but he thinks they make you look pretty. You've always been pretty to him, probably his exact type on paper. Someone who's smart, calm, a bit of a homebody, true to themselves.

But disregarding any of that, he didn't have a crush on you. He wasn't into you in that way, despite what everyone else in the friend group thinks. His eyes narrow watching you cross your arms, throwing your head back while laughing at something. “So funny,” he mumbled.

“You said something,” Yunjin asked.

“No.”

“Sure… you know, if you like her you should-”

“I don't like her. We are just friends,” he cuts her off.

Yunjin sighs, making her head. “Haechan you are fooling no one but yourself. I'll let you in on a little secret. Y/N has a crush on you,” she says, hoping that would help him open his eyes.

Haechan stays silent, expression remaining stoic and straight as he stares directly at the male putting his hand on your hip. That's when he feels a slight sting in his chest. The small ping of jealousy.

“How would you know that,” he says after a few beats of silence between them.

“Why do you think she dressed up tonight? God, use your brain.”

Before Haechan could respond, he watched as someone walked past you, bumping you on the shoulder. He watched as the drink fell out of your hand, almost like a cliche movie.

The liquid splashed all over the guy’s chest, but he didn't seem too upset. In fact, he looked happy to Haechan, especially when you dabbed the paper towels all over his chest

“God, I am so sorry,” he heard you say panicked. Just as soon as you thought you were done panicking someone else walked beside you, bumping you in the shoulder. You must've been getting bumped all night because your glasses fell.

“Shit,” you said. You dropped to your knees, feeling around the floor for your frames. “I-Im sorry can you please-”

You look up at Johnny, but you see nothing but a flash in your face. “J-Johnny?”

“God, has anyone ever seen you like this,” he laughed softly. “You're so hot, I could just-”

You heard a loud smack above you, followed by gasp and tons of commotion.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you,” you heard Johnny yell.

“She's looking for her glasses. Aren't you gonna help,” you heard a voice similar to Haechan say.

Johnny laughed, scoffing at the guy you couldn't see. “Is she your girl or something? You should keep her on a leash before I take her to my place and show her what a good time is.”

“Excuse me,” the other guy grumbled. You were still searching for your glasses, but from what you could tell, a group started to form around the 2 guys and yourself

“You heard me. Get your bitch or-”

A loud sound was heard coupled with oh’s and ah’s from the crowd.

You heard another sound. This time, it sounded like a punch. There was a fight happening, and you were on the ground still looking for your glasses. Just as you reached in another direction on the floor, you felt hands pull your body up.

“What the fuck was he thinking,” you hear Karina groan. She turned your body, placing your glasses back on your face. For the first time in a minute you can see, and you do not like what you see.

Haechan and Mark were currently trying to fight Johnny and his two friends. “What is going on? Why is everyone fighting all of a sudden?”

“Let's just get away from all this, and we'll tell you.”

You were pulled away, Karina and Yujin dragging you outside to the driveway away from the loudness of the party. “So what exactly is going on?”

“Okay, so basically-” Karina started to speak, but Yujin cut her off quickly.

“Everyone was watching you and that guy hit it off the whole time, but Haechan looked like he was gonna kill someone. So I said, you know if you like her you should tell her. And he was like I don't like her , we're just friends. Then he saw you trying to clean off that guy's shirt. Then your glasses fell and you got on the ground and-”

“I'm sorry, but what does that have anything to do with what just happened in there,” you say exasperated.

“Well when your glasses fell and you got down to look for them your-”

“Oh my God.” Karina looked at her phone shocked. You and Yunjin stood next to her to see the screen, and was immediately horrified. 6 different people recorded and took pictures of you looking for your glasses on the floor. Every post had people calling you names ranging from desperate to slut. You didn't realize at the time, but almost your entire ass was out, and your cleavage could be seen clearly.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “i'm going to kill myself.” You placed your face in your hands, covering the embarrassed expression.

“Yeah,” Yunjin said, lips pursed right after. “That's what happened.”

“Why did you guys let me do that” you whined.

“We were on the couch, surprised. We thought you were trying to seduce the guy, but then we saw him pull his phone out and everything went to hell,” she explains.

At this point you're pacing the driveway, trying to figure what to do about the party, the post, Johnny, Haechan, everyone. “Well now we have to leave,” you said. “We've been here for less than 2 hours and we have to leave.”

“Okay, well let me call them,” Yujin said. Just as she pulled out her phone, a voice was heard behind her.

“No need,” Mark said, making his presence known.

The three of you turned back to see them with their clothes messed up, cuts and bruises on their faces, and tired.

“Oh my God,” Karina says with her hand over her mouth. “Are you guys okay?”

“We're fine…well I'm fine. He's a bit..”

You look over at Haechan who's standing there with his hands in his pockets. You don't know what came over you, but you took a couple of steps towards him, anger filling your mind.

“Why would you do that,” you said. Your voice startled him, making him look up from the ground.

“Y/N I-”

“I had no idea what was going on, and you two getting into a fight scares me to death,” you told him. “How did you even get all the cuts on your faces?”

“Him and his friends had rings and stuff on,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Shit happens.”

There weren't many times Haechan has seen you upset. The last time you were this mad was when Mark accidentally deleted your essay from your laptop doing his homework.

“We have to leave right now,” you sighed, arms folded at your chest. “I won't know what to do if you get into another fight and you're already hurt like this.”

Without thinking, your hands reach up to his face, taking his chin between your fingers as you check his face for any other injuries that you can't see. Haechan thought he was crazy when the butterflies erupted in his stomach, but they erupted again when you looked at him with pity, like you cared about him. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Getting attention from girls came easy to him, but none of the girls he's dealt with made him feel the way you do.

“I'll um..I'll get an Uber for us-”

“No I'll get it,” you said. “We're going back to my house, you can't take care of all these by yourself.”

There it was, more butterflies.

“We'll go back to Mark’s and help him out,” Karina said, side eyeing Yunjin.

Yunjin quickly nodded, picking up the message Karina was sending. “Yep! Absolutely! We'll see you tomorrow!”

“What? I don't need help. I'm a grown man,” he whined. Karina and Yunjin nudged Mark who didn't seem to understand what was going on, making the man look at them confused.

“Grown men don't get into fights at parties,” you snap. “We'll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Wait in the bathroom. I'm going to change super quickly.” You shut your door behind you, locking it before kicking your shoes off. Before walking to your room, you turn to Haechan who looks as stiff as wood. “You look uncomfortable.”

Haechan watched as you walked away from him, going to your kitchen instead of your room. You grabbed a mug, filling it with water. He's never been so uncomfortable with you, but right now he feels like he could explode. You look so good in your current outfit, the way your hips sway when you walk, the way the shirt hugs your chest. He feels like he shouldn't be looking at you like this, but he feels like he's the only one who should be allowed.

“Here.” You hand him the mug, looking at him in the eyes like usual.

Haechan gulps, forcing himself to stop, keeping his eyes on yours and not let the travel any further. “Thanks,” he says, taking it out of your hands.

“Take your shoes off and relax,” you say. “I'll meet you in the bathroom in 5 minutes.”

He watches you walk away, holding his breath until you shut the door behind you. “Fuck,” he sighs. The one thing he can't do is get hard standing at your front door. Haechan knows he wouldn't be able to explain that, let alone lie to you about it. The only thing he could do is sit in your bathroom like you asked, and wait for you to put normal clothes on.

But Haechan is only a man. When you walked into the bathroom with short shorts and a laced lined camisole, the only thing he could do was pray for his presumed innocence. Pray that he didn't make a fool of himself in your house.

You reached up in your medicine cabinet taking out the pain meds and supplies for his injuries. It took you 10 seconds to get everything out, but for him it felt like 10 years. The way the fabric rose as you lifted your arms, watching you lean your hips on the edge of the counter giving him the smallest piece of your ass to stare at. And the way your nipples poked through the shirt– he was going to pass out right then and there.

There's nothing Haechan wanted more than to get behind you, feel up on your body. Whatever you were planning for the party worked because now he can't keep his mind off of you, and soon, it'll be his hands. To think you wore that outfit for him, he never would've guessed it.

“I can change if you need me to,” you said softly, startling him.

“N-no you don't need to change,” he said, watching you take two pills of pain meds out of the container.

“Take these.” You handed him the pills, watching him drink them down as you leaned on the counter. Haechan was sitting on the toilet seat, so the sight of him taking deep gulps with his eyes closed was a treat to say the least. You shouldn't be eyeing him like this, but God, was he attractive, even with bruises and cuts. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Gotta wait for them to kick in first,” he joked, but there was no smile on his face.

You grabbed an ointment for his bruises, opening it and squeezing some on your fingers. Haechan watched you as you tended to his wounds, concentrating on not trying to hurt him. He loved the way you would bite your lip whenever you were trying to concentrate, he always did.

The silence was comforting for a while, but then his thoughts got the best of him. Both of you actually. Your chest was in his face, his eyes wouldn't leave yours. The less talking there was, the more sexual tension filled the air, so you needed to get rid of it. But your mouth moves faster than your brain and for some reason, you felt it was the perfect moment to come clean about your intentions with him.

“I have something to confess,” you said softly.

“What is it?”

“I wore that outfit for you tonight,” you said, fixing your glasses on your nose bridge.

He smiled to himself, but you didn't see. “I have something to confess.”

“Hm,” you hummed.

“I already knew that.”

You let out a soft gasp, laughter soon following. “How did you know?”

“Yunjin,” he said simply. You let out a sigh, shaking your head making him chuckle softly.

“That girl can't keep a secret to save her life.” You moved on from his bruise, now tending to the scratches on his cheeks. Taking your fingers you apply the cream on the scratches, making him wince. “I only have a little bit left. This is why you shouldn't get in fights Mr. Lee.”

“Well, I..” he hesitated. “I fought for you.”

For a second you felt your heart drop. The guy you liked for 3 years fought for you, and you had absolutely nothing to say. “Thank you” was all you could manage. “But…why?”

“He was…an ass.” Memories of the guy recording you why you were down struck his brain, pissing him off all over again. “He was treating you like some kind of sexual fantasy. And I don't like that.”

You frowned, remembering that videos and pictures of yourself looking for your glasses are now circulating the Internet. “Yeah…”

“And I didn't like the way he was touching you,” he said, wincing at the feeling of you putting the bandage on.

“You sound like a protective father,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I appreciate you for defending me, but there's no reason to get hurt while doing it.”

“But I want to,” he says, making you pause. “Y/N, I think I like you.”

“I-I..uh..” You wanted so badly to say you liked him too, but now you were nervous. Your face was beating up, fogging your glasses. Be cool, be normal. “T-thanks..”

“Thanks?” Haechan laughs softly. “That's what I get for fighting.”

“No, that's not what I meant! I meant-”

“I know what you meant, and it's fine,” he reassured you. “I think I liked you for a long time, just didn't know if you felt the same way.”

“How long is a long time to you?”

“A couple months,” he answered.

You sighed, a slight wave of disappointment filling your chest. “I wanted you for 3 years.”

Haechan's eyes widened slightly, brows shooting up hearing your words. “3 years? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I'm the kind of girl you befriend, not date,” you answered bitterly.

“That's not true.”

“All the girls you like are exactly like you. They're loud, adventurous, cool, hot, wear skimpy clothing,” you argued. “I'm just not your type.”

“Well that can't be true now, because it seems like you are exactly my type,” he stated.

“For now.” You started treating his last bit of scratches, scrunching your nose to keep your glasses from slipping again. “Why do you think I wore that outfit? I just wanted you to notice me.”

“But I noticed you. I do all the time,” he revealed.

“But it wasn't until tonight which made you realize that,” you added. And with that final comment, you finished tending to his wounds, placing the last bandage on his face. “I'm all done. If you wanna go home, I can-”

“No,” he said. Haechan placed his hands on the back of your thighs, his soft palms sending lightning through your body. “I'm staying here.”

You could barely think straight with him touching you, the hold on your legs just getting stronger and stronger, his thumbs pressing into your skin. That's when Haechan kisses up your clothed stomach softly and slowly, making your lashes and heart flutter as you watch him from above.

“Haechan, stop,” you sigh. “Y-you're not thinking straight.”

He stands up, his lanky figure looming over yours. You swear you feel dizzy the moment his cologne hits your nose. He pulls you closer, his pelvis on yours. You could feel his hard on sitting right on your aching cunt.

“I know you feel it,” he whispers. “I know you feel the tension here. And I know you feel how hard I am too.”

Gulping, you look away from him. This is everything you've fantasized about for the last 3 years, but something is telling you no. Something is telling you it's too good to be true. “Maybe..maybe we should wait.”

Haechan takes your chin in his bruised knuckles, lifting your chin to look at him, but all you can see are his pretty lips hovering over yours. “Are you sure you wanna wait? Because I'm not sure I can hold myself back for even a second.”

His free hand travels up your leg, his fingertips grazing the heat between your legs ever so slightly, teasing you even more. “You have no idea how pissed it made me feel seeing that guy touch and feel on you, knowing it should've been me.”

“That's why you fought him?”

The breathiness of your words almost made him spiral. You were breathing heavily, your chest pressed against his so turned on at every little thing he did.

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “Seeing you walk around in that tiny skirt knowing I couldn't have you..”

“You have me now..”

“You're right, I do.”

Haechan kisses you just as you imagined, soft and with care. He kept kissing you, each kiss making you feel high. His hands left your face and leg, grabbing a hold of your waist. You yelp, feeling your body be lifted onto the end of your sink, legs spread apart as he stands between them. His tongue entered your mouth, the kisses slowing down and lingering a bit.

Haechan places his hands on your sides, soon traveling to your chest. Hard nipples looking through the fabric, teasing him the whole time he's been in your house can finally be his. Haechan hooks his fingers on the bottom of your shirt, begging to pull it up when you grab his wrist, stopping him.

You pull away painfully slow, a strong of saliva still connecting your lips only for a second. “Can we go to my room?”

Haechan said nothing, just backing away from your body and pulling you off the counter. He pulled you to your room, still messy as always. He always loved your house, especially your room. Something about it felt like home. There's always little bits of you scattered throughout your space, whether it be homework, a brush, a mug, or even a sock. It doesn't matter how many times he comes over, it always feels the same.

But this time it felt a little different. He wasn't going to your room to hang out with the others, he was going to have sex with you. Going to make out with you, to be more than friends with you. This was going to change everything about your relationship with him, but it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was making you feel good.

Haechan sat on your bed looking up at you, mirroring his previous actions in your bathroom. You were more nervous than ever now with him sitting there expectantly. Fixing your glasses, you placed your hand on his shoulder, climbing on his body to straddle him.

“Can I take your top off,” his whispered peppering soft kisses down your neck.

You nod, giving him permission. Haechan hooks his fingers on the hem of your top, lifting the fabric off your body. He feels like he's 16 again, like this is his first time seeing a woman's chest, except it's yours, which is much more important. He starts kissing you slow, his hands naturally finding their way to your chest. You shuddered at the way his cold palms molded your breasts, shaky breaths leaving your mouth and into his every once in a while.

Haechan started kissing down your jaw, then to your neck, making tilt your head to give him more access. His hands leave your chest for a bit, placing them on your back pulling you closer to his body. Your nipples touch the cold of the print on his graphic tee, stimulating you more while he leaves wet messy kisses all over your skin.

He kisses lower and lower, lips now pressing against the top of your breast. You look down at him, the most dreamy expression ever when his eyes meet your framed ones. You look so cute in them, but still the sexist person he'd ever seen in glasses.

You let out a soft moan feeling his tongue swipe against your nipples, the feeling being foreign after being on such a long dry spell. He licks the stiffened peak again, then sucking it while staring up at you.

“So pretty,” he whispers on your skin.

You're soaking at this point, his touch and voice bewitching you. Haechan holds you tight, sucking your nipples softly. His eyes hung low, the stare making you squirm. You watched as his brows furrowed hearing your soft whines, his hand gripping the fabric on your hip. He releases your breast from his mouth with a soft pop, the cold air hitting the wet peak making you shiver.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Your eyes dart to his face, glasses slipping down your nose bit by bit. “I..”

Haechan smirks, his soft lips kissing your chest once again while his hands roam your body. “I know you do,” he whispers. “You're the most obvious person I know.”

Haechan slips his hands to your lower back, his fingers dipping lower and lower into your shorts. He can't help himself, squeezing the flesh in his hands like a stress ball making you push into his palms more.

“I want you to show me,” he says, words muffled in your neck while he kisses it.

“S-show you,” you question.

“I want you to show me what you do when you make yourself feel good,” he adds. “Is that okay?”

You were intoxicated in your home and he's barely touched you yet, but his voice and eyes did something else to you. You needed more. You nodded, lips parting slightly when he takes his hands out your shorts.

“Stand up.”

You remove your leg from his side, removing yourself from his lap. Haechan stood up, body so close to yours you could feel the heat emitting off of him. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, lips curling into a small smile. “Wanna help?”

You nodded slowly, hands lifting his shirt above his head. His eyes disappeared behind the fabric but once it was off him, they connected with yours once again, making your core clench around nothing. You tossed his shirt on the floor, eyes trailing down his soft but toned body. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times but this was different. This felt different.

Haechan's gaze lingered on you as he unhooked his belt, the sound of the metal clinging sending a shiver down your spine. He let them fall, showcasing black underwear to you. Haechan leans down, kissing you softly as he steps out of the pool of fabric, groaning in your mouth softly when your chest touches his.

“Now,” he says softly, pulling away from you. Taking your hand, he pulls you to the side of your bed, climbing onto the mattress. Haechan plops down, leaning his head on your headboard in the dreamiest way possible. “I need those off” – he points to your shorts – “and you right here.” He pays the spot between his legs.

Your fingers dig into your waistline, hesitating for what feels like an eternity. Your heart was beating rapidly, with every second feeling like years. Haechan watched you pull the last piece of decency off your body, soaking in every bit of bare skin he laid his eyes on. He needed to feel you, touch you, eat you. But first he wanted to see you.

Climbing on the bed, he sensed how anxious you were, wrapping his arms around your body once you settled between his legs. And just like that, you were like putty in his hands, immediately melting in his touch letting him run his hands all over your skin, groping at you wherever he liked.

“Spread those legs for me pretty,” he said into your ear, smiling when you obeyed. His fingertips trail lines in your hips, soon moving down your legs. He could barely control himself, hands moving closer and closer to your soaked core, the actions making you bring your knees together.

“Shit,” you mumbled, face hot as you witnessed your glasses fog bit by bit.

“Do you always wear your glasses during sex” he asked, kissing behind your ear softly.

“Y-yes, why?”

“I want you to take them off for me.” Haechan laughs to himself softly when you sit up, turning to him with a confused expression.

“But then I-I can't see,” you say, a slight whine in your voice.

“I'll do that for you.” Haechan removes the frames from your face gently, folding them and placing them on your lamp table. “I want you to focus on how you feel and what I say. Can you do that for me?”

His milky tone, the way his lips brushed on your earlobe, his soft touch between your thighs. You'd do anything he asks for in a heartbeat. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl,” he praises. “You know what to do.”

Haechan watched you start rubbing your clit slowly, biting his lip softly. His hands continued rubbing your thighs, soothing you as you leaned into his chest more. You feel his heavy breathing on your back, your lids going heavy once you insert two fingers inside.

Haechan was rock solid at the point, watching your fingers move in and out of you, the squelch your pussy made being music to his ears. “Fuck,” he mumbles in your ear.

You clench around your fingers to his voice, the breath tickling your ears making you squirm between him. Your eyes are closed, so you don't see the way he's looking beside you, watching the way your face twitches at every feeling or sound. His stomach flips when you gasp at the sudden feeling his hands on your chest, small moans escaping to the added pleasure.

“I love that sound,” he says, the sound of your pussy getting louder when you finger yourself faster.

“S-stop,” you stutter.

“Are you embarrassed,” he chuckles softly, nipping at your ear, not taking his eyes off the scene between your legs. You gulp and nod, a small whine spilling from your lips.

“God you're so cute.” Haechan removes one hand off your chest, creeping his fingers back between your legs. “Almost as cute as this pretty clit right here.”

“H-haechan..”

He started rubbing small, slow circles, your moans increasing in volume. You kept fingering yourself, but you needed more. You needed his cock, his mouth, his pretty hands. The thought of him finger fucking you till you came stimulated you, making your hips move on their own, grinding against his fingers.

“Tell me what you're thinking about.” He had pressure on his fingers making a whine leave you plump lips. “What do you want from me Y/N?”

“I..I want you Haechan,” you answer breathlessly. “I want you to make me cum.” Your hand pumps your hole faster, wetness coating your fingers running down your hands. His breath tickles your neck as he begins to grind on you. Eyes closed, head falling back on his shoulder, you let your hips move on their own. You're so close, the feeling of his chest rising on your back aiding to the pleasure throughout your body.

“I want you inside me,” you moan softly, brows furrowing.

“How bad,” he teased, a smile on his lips. He rubbed your clit faster, starting to feel your legs shaking. Your moans increased, whines and whimpers freely falling from your lips. He knew you were going to cum.

“So, so bad,” you whispered. “I-Im gonna cum haechan..”

“Cum for me,” he whispered. “You're so pretty when you cum.”

You pumped your fingers harder and faster, the sound of your wet hole filling his ears. You came around your fingers, pussy squeezing tight on the digits inside you. Haechan kept rubbing your clit, the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive bud making you shiver on his shoulder.

“There you go Y/N,” he said softly, his other hand rubbing your thigh. “Let it out. God, you make the prettiest sounds.”

You pulled your fingers from between your legs, hand resting on your other thigh as you breathed heavily against his body. That's when you feel his hand take yours, bringing it to his mouth. Haechan wrapped his lips around your fingers, sucking your arousal off your fingers.

“Haechan,” you whined, hanging your head low in embarrassment. He chuckled, taking your face and turning it to him. He kisses you softly, the taste of your own cum on his lips. “I need you so bad,” you mumbled on his lips.

“Lay down for me okay?”

You nodded, lifting yourself from his body, allowing him to move from behind you. You reached for your glasses, putting them on, clearing your blurry vision. When you looked back up, Haechan was pulling his underwear off his body, hard on so big, it hit his stomach.

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled to yourself. He was big. Bigger than you imagined, and it makes you wonder where he was hiding it all this time under his skinny jeans.

“Staring isn't very polite, you know.”

His voice broke your thoughts, making your eyes snap back up to his face. Dark locks of hair fell in his eyes, that same teasing grin on his mouth. He looked like a dream– bruises and bangs on his face, knuckles red, but still hot. He crawled onto the bed, yanking your body lower on the bed by your ankles.

“You have some condoms,” he said, eyes scanning your naked body.

“I-In my drawer.” You point to your bedside table, eyes following him as he bends over you to open the drawer. You were practically drooling at this point, the thirstiest you've ever been and it was starting to become too real to be true. Haechan takes an unopened packet from the drawer, shutting it right after. Your eyes don't leave him as he sits back up and opens the plastic, a gulp going down your throat in anticipation.

“If at any point you wanna stop, just let me know,” he says, sliding the condoms on. Haechan watches your facial expressions and body language. You were excited, he could tell. But you were also the most nervous he's ever seen you. “Listen,” he says softly. His fingertips glide on the inner side of your thighs, hands pushing your legs up by the back of your knees. “I want you to look at me the whole time. Can you do that?”

The softness in the way he spoke felt a bit unfamiliar to you, you immediately softened nodding at his request. “Y-yeah.”

Haechan licks his lips, lining himself with you. A small gasp fell from your lips feeling his tip stretch you open. He pushed himself in a bit more, watching your face slowly contort silently. Haechan held your legs up to your chest, eyes never leaving the view of his dick disappearing between your legs.

“Fuck,” he sighed, the feeling of your tight pussy almost making him cum right then and there. He looks back up at your face, your eyes are closed, head resting on your pillow. Your glasses are crooked due to the position of your head, but it's sexy to him.

Haechan starts thrusting in you slowly, eyes shut as he moves taking in the feeling. But you keep looking at him. You keep staring at the way the muscles in his arms slightly flex, you stare at the way his chest moves after every deep breath he takes. He must've known you were staring because he opens his eyes, staring at you fucked out face.

“Youre.. you're so big,” you mumbled, voice shaky from the pleasure.

Haechan opens his eyes, staring down at you through his bangs as he thrusted deeper. “Keep saying things like that, and you'll boost my ego.” He snaps his hips into yours, his dick reaching further into you. Haechan speeds up his movements, his hands gripping your legs tighter, pushing them closer to your chest. You tried you best to look at him, but with every movement, you felt your vision go blurry with pleasure. Your moans and whimpers filled the room accompanied with his grunts and the sound of the bed.

Haechan lets go of your legs, letting himself fall onto your body. He held himself up, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself. You let your eyes close for one second, but Haechan is quick to slap your hip, making you open your eyes. You stare at him, raising your hand and fixing your glasses with your brows furrowed at the feeling of him inside you.

“Don't look away,” he moans softly. “Keep looking at me..keep those eyes on me.”

And you did, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan lets out a small hiss feeling you squeeze around him.

“Faster,” you moaned shakily, breath tickling his nose. Haechan melts when your face twists in pleasure, brows scrunching with every moment.

“Fuck, right there,” you whimpers, pulling him closer. Haechan kisses you, you both moaning and grunting into each other's mouths.

“You like this Y/N? You like when I fuck you good,” he groans, on your mouth.

“Yes, yes.” You nod fast, eyes stuck in his as he plows you into the mattress. The sound of your skin colliding, bed creaking, moans filling the air over stimulated you along with his raspy voice, saying the dirtiest things in your ear.

He reaches up, removing your glasses from your face and throwing them somewhere on your bed. Too fucked out to even respond, you shut your eyes letting him bury his head in your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your skin.

“I'm so close,” you moaned, legs starting to shake on either side of him.

“Cum for me,” he grunts. “I want you to cum around my cock right now.” He reaches down between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit fast. Haechan has had sex a million times, but nothing could compare to the way you felt squeezing around him. The way your moans rose in pitch when you came, the way you said his name.

“Haechan,” you whispered, nails pressing into the skin on his back. “Oh my God, fuck..”

He kept fucking you into the mattress, chasing his own high right after yours. “Just a little more baby, fuck..”

You opened your eyes, brows furrowed as you watched his body rise, hands grasping your waist tight. His thumbs pressed into your sides, holding your body close to his while he plowed into you. Even blurry, he was a dream to look at. His hair hung in his face, biting his lip as he chased his orgasm.

But better get, you looked like an angel underneath him. The sweat on your body, your face, hair, sounds. Perfect. His eyes followed your hand, watching them as one went to your nipple and the other went between your legs.

“Fuck,” he kissed. The tight feeling in his stomach started getting tighter. Haechan’s jaw dropped, brows scrunched as he came, a strangled moan escaping his throat.

Haechan stopped thrusting, pulling out of you after a couple of seconds. The both of you sat in the silence of heavy breathing, his hands still on your waist. You reached to grab your glasses, finding them on the blanket and putting them on lazily. That's when you look at Haechan, his blushed cheeks, sweat on his forehead, trying to catch his breath.

“Are you-”

“Can we-”

Both of you stop and look at each other. The air starts to feel heavy for some reason, the silence giving you time to think about what you were going to say. Can we go on a date?

You gulped at the way his eyes won't stop staring into yours. His lips part, eyes narrowing when he rubs his thumbs on your sides, soothing your very obvious nerves.

“Say it,” he says softly,

“Can we… be more than friends?”

You blinked, Haechan staring at you with a blank expression. Suddenly he began laughing, hanging his head low after you spoke.

“What,” you questioned, heart sinking into your stomach.

“Why did you ask me that,” he chuckled, grinning from ear to ear at you question.

You swallowed, expression hardening at his words. “Did I say something wrong?”

Haechan noticed the tremble in your words and immediately stopped laughing, realizing that you were very much serious. Haechan leaned down, his body on yours and head in your neck. He kissed your skin softly, one hand holding him up while the other caressed your skin.

You watch him, feeling yourself melting into his soft touch. His fingertips dragged along your abdomen, sending chills down your spine. “H-haechan,” you said softly. “Answer my question.”

Instead of answering you, he moved from your neck to your lips. He captured you in a soft, sweet kiss, turned deep and passionate. Something about the way he kisses you at the moment feels romantic, as if he's trying to communicate his feelings without speaking, but you need him to say it. You need him to speak to you.

Haechan pulled away from you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. “Did that answer your question,” he said softly.

You shook your head, making him laugh softly. “Answer.”

He smiled, licking his lips before speaking. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“Well..” you paused before looking up at him, eyes staring into his soul. The silence felt like an eternity between you both, but it soon disappeared when you spoke.

“Can you be mine?”

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whowantshota · 2 months

Text

NOT ALLOWED pt. 2 —— lee heeseung

it's date night with your boyfriend, but you don't even show up. you can't help it, old habits die hard.

warnings ☆ MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. angst, smut, cheating, dom heeseung, this is mostly smut, manipulation, ft enha, soobin (txt) deserves the world,

song recs: it almost worked, tv girl. not allowed, tv girl. lovers rock, tv girl. billie bossa nova, billie eilish,

read part one here! can also be read as a standalone

After what you’ve been calling the ‘little incident,’ the rest of the week was uneventful. Classes are the same, Sunoo’s no less dramatic, and you think you’ve texted your project partner Yunjin at least once since then. Soobin’s still texting you sweet little goodnight messages before you go to sleep though, still kissing you the same and fucking you in that slow, soft way he always has.

You hate it. Hate it with every fiber of your being. You hate it so much. The way he isn’t repulsed by you, hugs you close to him when the two of you go about on campus. The way he loves you all the same despite what you’ve now gone and done.

And you know that you should break up with him. Not because he’s ass—if anything he’s the farthest from it that you’ve ever seen a man be. No, if anything you (absolutely) are the ass. That’s why it’d be so much better than trying, trying so damn hard to love him the way he loves you.

“Dinner? Tomorrow, at 9?” He asked you suddenly during study group. You look up from your book to glance at him. One eyebrow raised, he grins at the feeling of his knee pressing into your thigh, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Dinner?” You repeat, tapping your pencil against the table. Soobin nods, running his tongue over his bottom lip. There’s a slight blush you can see creeping up his neck, rising in his ears.

He waits for you to answer, hands folded politely over his own textbook. His sleeves are rolled up just below his elbows and you can see the thick vein that traces its way down to the back of his hand. His fingers are so pretty, so big, have fucked their way into your a cunt a number of times now. The same fingers that’ve treated you right so many times, skimmed across the expanse of your inner thigh. They’ve never choked you, though. Never fucked into your mouth and pressed hard on your tongue, never pulled you down and gagged you on cock.

They’ve never treated you like Heeseung has.

You blink twice, look down, only to look back up and peek at Soobin from under your lashes. “Yeah. Dinner sounds great.”

The way Soobin lights up makes your heart hurt. You really don’t know why he’s put so much effort into taking you out, nor why it still makes him happy. You’ve been dating for three months now, talking for maybe a little longer than that. He’s been trying to make more time for you now, ever since you mentioned it to him. Date’s every fortnight, mostly over coffee or ice cream. Sometimes there’s sex, and sometimes there’s not. Usually, there is.

Soobin’s hands unfold, and he spares a look at the clock. He breaks into the awkward silence, clearing his throat and straightening the white collar of his shirt. “Um, it’s late, huh.” He notes, scratching the back off his neck. “Can I…”

“Sure.” You say, lips pursed. You know what he wants; nothing more than to simply walk you to your dorm. He nods silently at your response and stands up, closing his book and gathering his own things to shove into his bag. Too fucking sweet for his own good, Choi Soobin does not deserve you.

★ . *- .

You think it almost worked.

If you had tried a little harder, possibly made a little more room in your heart for Soobin, then maybe you could have left every single thing about Lee fucking Heeseung behind you.

You did dress up for dinner, wore a short black dress and your favorite cardigan. You did take the time to fix up your hair, and you did go the extra mile and buy him a perfume.

Oh fuck that, you didn’t even wait for him to pick you up at your dorm.

It should have seemed at least a little shocking, but to be honest, you knew that you would come back. You could take it to another level and say you that had planned it, and that’d even be true.

Heeseung was shocked though, opening the door to find you standing outside at 8:47 PM, his pretty, pink lips parted in silence. Before he could say anything, you were already pulling him in for a kiss, feeling his warmth and sliding your hands into his wet hair.

He lets out a long, full groan against your bottom lips when your hands start to feel lower, wanting and reaching for more. “Baby,” he hums when he finally pulls away, “fuck, slow down.”

His hands wrap around your wrists, separating your touch from him. Heeseung did not expect to see you back on his doorstep so soon, had thought you’d be a smarter girl. Thought you'd take some time to think about things, maybe even see how bad, how fucking horrible you are for each other. You didn’t though, and to say he didn’t want you back on his doorstep though, would be a lie.

“Need you Heeseung,” you tell him. He can’t help but shiver at the sight of you, his grip loosening around your arms and allowing you to slither a hand to his face, cupping his cheek.

You pull at the hem of the black shirt he’s wearing, tight around his chest. He must’ve just come back from practice, meaning Jay and Jake are probably still in the house but honestly you couldn’t care less. They could watch for all you care.

You’re attaching your lips to his once more before he’s pulling you inside, only separating once to close the door and press your backside against it.

Heeseung moans into your mouth, tasting the sweet cherry chapstick slick on your lips. His hands move from your arms to glide along your waist. He squeezes, earning a small, muffled cry from you. It was funny, how well he still remembered you and all of your littleticks, what you liked and what threw you off.

He only moves his lips from yours to start sucking against the skin on your neck, efficient work pulling an unwanted whimper from you. He smiles against your skin and you can feel the upturned corners pressing to you.

“Fuck, Seungie.” You murmur, pulling away for a breath, which is short lived because Heeseung is pulling you back in, bitting your bottom lip.

You tug at his sweats, fitting a hand inside and cupping his hard on. He stiffens at your touch, hissing something you can’t hear. You love it, the way he reels into you, hands gripping you tight. You could let him take you here, have you all to himself on the couch until midnight. Even longer than that if you really fucking wanted to.

You have him here, all to yourself. He’s whispering in your ear about how good you taste and you’re talking right back, going on and on about how much you missed him, needed him.

You feel the vibration of your phone buzz in your cardigan, but you don’t make a move to even check for it. Fuck Yunjin, or Sunoo, or Soobin, you get back to them later. But you can’t get back Heeseung, can’t get back the way he grinds into the palm of your hand, can’t get back the sweet sounds he makes everytime you tug a little to hard at his hair. Definitely can’t get back the way he loves you at all, though you’re not sure how long it’s been since you lost that.

You groan in annoyance when your phone starts to ring again, pulling it out from your pocket. Heeseung doesn’t question it, let’s you simply fling your phone somewhere around the room and drums his fingers against your hip.

“Came to see me, yeah?” He mumbles against your neck, thumbs starting to rub against you in a circular motion. “Came to let me eat that pretty cunt, mm?”

He starts to suck a hickey and you almost protest, almost say that Soobin could see it, could figure out that you make yourself cum with someone else’s name on the tip of your tongue. But you don’t say anything, only palm his bulge and moan. He slips a hand under the skirt of your dress, presses his fingers against the crotch of your panties.

He’s dragging slow fingers against fabric, feeling the growing wet patch between your folds. “Seungie, hurry up.” You pout, looking at him with big, wet eyes.

Luckily, he’s not in the mood to tease you, yet. He hums and complies with your pleas, locking your lips once more as he slides two fingers in. He’s sloppily kissing you, devouring the moans that leave you while at the same time fucking his fingers into you.

He doesn’t take his time at all; doesn’t look to see if you’re enjoying it. He doesn’t need to, he knows you eat up whatever the fuck he gives you. Knows he’s fucked you right enough times for you to love this.

You feel like your legs are going to give out when he rolls his thumb against your clit, other hand reaching to knead the flesh of your ass. From the way he’s still grinding against your hand, you think he’s enjoying it too.

You whimper when he pulls out so abruptly, dropping to kneel on the floor in front of you. He pulls your leggings and panties down to your knees, sucking on his fingers and pressing his cheek against the soft skin of your thigh. You can hear the loud pop when he pulls them out of his mouth, messily coated in his saliva.

When he pauses to look up at you, fuck, you swear you could cum on the spot. The greatest view you’ve seen in a long time; Heeseung below you with his mouth parted slightly, haired mussed, face flushed deep red as he licks his fingers clean.

It hits you right then, how much you want him, really fucking need him. “Fuckin’, love you. Need you s’much.” You cry. There’s tears welling up in your eyes, and they seem to be enough to inspire him to continue.

Warm, wet lips press against your cunt. It's so soft, so gentle that for a second you wonder if it really is Heeseung, who’s peppering kisses along your pelvis. If he's really there, looking up at you from behind thick locks of dark hair. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy because your boyfriend doesn't?” He asks, continuing to press a trail of kisses against your front, only stopping when he's about right under your navel.

“He…he does,” you stutter. You didn’t think before the words came out, merely let them spill in a hurried response. To be fair, you hadn’t spoken that loud either, but Heeseung hears it, of course.

“Oh, he does?” He takes a moment to let it sink in, brows furrowing before he pulls away and stands up. You want to hold him back down, tell him to kneel again and fuck his tongue into your cunt. But perhaps now's not the time: Heeseung looks unimpressed by the words, arms crossed over his chest.

The dorm is silent. Much too silent. Considering it’s not that late, you can bet that both Jake and Jay are still up, if not in their respective rooms, hopefully out and about.

Not that there’s time to think about those too, though. Heeseung’s hand is closing around your wrist, and he’s dragging you away from the wall and further into the room. He lays you on the couch—it seems to have become a spot after your last visit.

Heeseung’s got you pinned under him in seconds, pulling off his shirt, hips straddling yours. “You’d don’t think he could fuck you better than I could, baby?” You hear him hum. One strong hand resting on your stomach, bulge pressed up against your leg.

“That's why you're here with me, letting me fuck this cunt, hm?” He trails off, not so much flinching as you reach into his boxers, pulling his thick cock out of his sweats.

You didn’t come here because of anyone else, you came here because you need Heeseung. Because Soobin could fuck you right, but he just can’t fuck you the way Herseung does. So you’re about to object, state your point, looking at Heeseung through pitiful eyes. And then a buzzing starts up from between the couch cushions.

Heeseung sees it before you do, grabs your long forgotten phone from where it’s sunk. He looks it over, bright light illuminating his face much better than the old lamp in the corner does.

You know something is wrong when you see the smirk growing on his face, wetting his bottom lip. The phone’s still buzzing, but Heeseung’s already hovering right over you, breath fanning over your face. Precum dribbles down from his tip and along the back of your leg. “Keep quiet for a bit, ‘kay baby?”

He places the phone on the couch arm behind you. You’re about to turn around, swearing you heard something when Heeseung suddenly pushes into you without warning.

You gasp, pussy squeezing around his girth. He shoves his thumb into the side of your mouth, forcing it open enough for him to spit inside.

“Swallow,” he commands, fucking into you at a mild pace. His hand moves down to close around your throat, resting his thumb against the lump when you comply. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

“Please!” You cry, clenching even harder at the pet name, earning a groan from Heeseung. His pace falters, and he’s fucking into you sloppily.

“Fuck, I’ll take care of this cunt,” Heeseung manages to get out, voice, breathy as he speaks. You hiccup, tears slipping down your face. It feels so good, too good. How the fuck did you survive a week without this?

He doesn’t complain when your arms wrap around him, nails digging raw pink marks into his skin. Your back hurts like fuck with the way your arching, but the warmth of his cock is too good for you to care. “Yes, fuck–please, wan’ that.”

And as always, it’s about Heeseung giving you whatever you need at the moment. Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the sadistic smirk on Heeseung’s face when he lazily fucks a couple of more strokes into you. Or why you don’t hear the other end of the phone, don’t see Soobin’s contact name shining brightly on the dial screen of your phone.

“Yeah?” Heeseung muses, reveling in the thought of the desperate scratches he’ll find on his back tomorrow morning. “Who does this pussy belong to, baby?”

“Heeseung! All yours Seungie-” You’re babbling now, sobbing through choked breaths. He fits in you so well; you know you were just made for him.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” He grunts, fucking into you on each word. The disconnect tone plays right when Heeseung cums, head of his cock dragging against you insides as he rides the high out.

He doesn’t topple over you and let you ruffle his hair when finishes. Nor does he kiss your nose or call you beautiful. No, he merely pulls out, watches the way his cum spills down your thighs, tucks himself back into his sweats and pushes off of the couch.

You almost reach out to him, but the words die in your throat. You hear Heeseung mutter something, tell you that you can get cleaned in the bathroom, that there’s a pair of his clothes you can change into.

You hate him for it. Even though you’re the one who wanted to walk into all of this. Heeseung did tell you that you couldn’t, shouldn’t start over. Who the fuck were you to think you could fix him; fix what you had?

Now you’re really crying. Big tears welling up and dropping onto the wrinkled skirt of your dress. You pick up your phone from its place on the armchair, open the call app, then drop it into your lap.

You should have known, should have expected it with the number of times he brought up Soobin. Should have seen him reach for your phone, should have noticed the grand smile he wore while he fucked you so good, so deep.

Soobin’s phone number appears three times in your list of recent calls. Twice, as a missed call. Once, as answered.

i love this work so much. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! not beta read

#had billie bossa nova on loop it set the mood so well #kpop hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader smut #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #kpop smut

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heartkyeom · 2 years

Text

fine line

figure skater!joshua hong x f!reader

synopsis: as a joshua fangirl, getting the chance to interview him as a teenager was an absolute dream. 10 years later with a flourishing career as a writer and a strained relationship with him, he wants to do a 10 year reunion interview about his path to the upcoming Olympics. there’s only one problem: you’re staying at his house and trying not to address your old feelings for him.

word count: 19.9k

tag list: @junhui-recs @bfwonu @huiranghaes

warnings: figure skater!joshua, writer/fangirl!reader, best friend!jeonghan, dad!seungcheol, smut, fluff, angst, some occasional skating jargon, this is a lot about the Olympics

a/n: y’all. this fic has been reworked over and over and over since spring 2022, it’s the longest fic I’ve ever done. it’s given me so much trouble and seen me through so many changes in my life. doing my final undergrad dance show, writing my undergrad capstone, finishing undergrad, and finding my first apartment. it is my baby and has grown as much as I have since march. thank you to the sports au discord for being so lovely <3 I hope you enjoy it as always and I hope you can feel how much heart I put into this! this is for @gyukult’s sports au collab + this is loosely based on the plot of the book “funny you should ask” by elissa sussman which I can’t recommend enough! title also inspired by the harry styles song ok bye lmao <3

Work isn’t particularly difficult, in your opinion. You’re used to hearing the people around you complain about how much their workload consumes them to a point of no return, but as you made your way into your first adult job as a writer, you tried to stop that from happening.

It’s not exactly easy when you have to navigate the entertainment industry while writing, but the idea of trying to craft new narratives about celebrities that the public is convinced that they know inside and out still excites you.

Even if you’re not exactly fond of whoever you’re writing about, the challenge still intrigues you. Thus, the conversations surrounding ideas for new profiles are always equal parts captivating and nerve-wracking.

“How do you feel about Joshua Hong?” Your manager asks. You look up to see her balancing her weight on the side of your desk, a neutral expression paints her face.

She knows this is a loaded question, all things considered.

“You know how I feel about him,” You blink at her before facing your computer again.

“I do, but I need an updated response considering the anniversary,” She persists. You sigh, swiveling around to face her again before responding.

“He’s great. I like him,” Your voice trails off, you try to nod to convince her, but it’s not working.

Your life has been so intertwined with Joshua Hong’s career as a professional figure skater that it’s hard to delineate life before and after him. He wasn't there, then one day he seemed to consume your life completely.

Before your start as a journalist, you ran a very well-known, albeit secretive, blog about Joshua Hong as a teenager. It was relatively harmless and safe for work, spare the occasional thirst posts sprinkled in. It mostly contained updates about the then emerging skater’s career, offering illegal torrent links for broadcasts of his performances that weren’t available worldwide and communicating with other fans about your love for him. Yet, some random post about him qualifying for the Olympics went insanely viral when you were 17, garnering over 1 million shares in under a week.

It was substantial enough to get his management's attention, and you had the opportunity to interview him not only for your blog but for a major publication for their Winter Olympics coverage series.

With two opportunities to write about him, you were able to fulfill the fan service pleas from your fellow fans for the blog and write a serious piece that made the general public interested in him from the perspective of a fan that knew the general timeline of his career.

The quick success felt like a fluke, but it led you to an undergraduate degree and a dream job as an entertainment writer at one of your favorite companies almost immediately after graduation.

He technically made your career, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

You’ve been trying to forget about the anniversary, but everyone in your life seems determined to bring it up whenever they see you.

“Well, we want you to do a 10-year reunion interview piece with him. That’s only if you want to,” Her voice was sympathetic, but you’re mainly focused on the number. It really had been 10 years, hadn’t it?

You were both incredibly established in your respective careers, him as a 5-time gold medalist with appearances at 3 Olympic Games, and you with a prolific image as a relatable yet incisive celebrity interviewer. It completely makes sense for you two to meet again, considering how much the first interview changed the trajectory of your lives.

It would feed into the nostalgia of Joshua fans that grew up alongside you as readers of your blog and new fans that clamored for any new Joshua content.

Yet, you weren’t exactly convinced.

“I mean, his team could’ve had anyone else write a big profile on him. We’re not the only website in the world with an entertainment section,” You fight the urge to bite your nails and instead choose to wring your hands together.

“He asked us to do it,” She admits.

You try not to look too shocked, but that definitely changes things. You were not close with Joshua whatsoever. Sure, he’d occasionally like your social media posts and wish you a happy birthday every year, but that was the extent of your relationship.

Your teenage self thinks it might be him looking for closure, wondering what might have happened if you stayed in touch.

Yet, you can’t let yourself dive back into the fantasy of him again.

You search for a response, but you can’t land on anything substantial. “What would I have to do?” You ask, you barely notice the unconscious habit of biting the inside of your cheek.

“Well, in addition to the profile, you can attend his practices and any private schedules he invites you to. It’s mostly up to the discretion of him and his team,” She offers and you nod. You’re good with that, you can watch him practice and go to a random professional event he’s booked for.

“He did offer something else, if you’re up for it,” She gives you a pointed look which makes you a bit hesitant.

“What is it?”

“He asked if you were open to staying at his house,” She smiled through her answer, but you’re sure your face was completely pale.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or nervous at the idea of it. It was ambitious, considering that you haven’t spent more than a few hours in the same room with him at a time, much less stay with him.

You think you might die if you go through with it.

“He’s not serious,” You find yourself laughing in disbelief. You can’t even fathom the idea of being further sucked into Joshua’s life after so long.

“He really is. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, but within the next day or so,” She leaves your desk without giving you a chance to respond, but you revel in the opportunity to think about everything.

It’s a bit too much to wrap your head around, so much so that you don’t remember much else of the work day.

For the first time in a long time, Joshua Hong was all you could think about.

—

The more you think about the interview, the more it gives you anxiety.

All of the possible outcomes float around in your head during the commute home that you can barely enjoy the music blaring in your headphones.

Once you arrive home, you figure that you need a second opinion on the matter, so you decide to call your far more opinionated best friend for his input.

The phone only rings for a few seconds before he picks up.

“What happened?”

“Joshua wants to do this 10-year anniversary interview where I follow him around,” You sigh.

“No fucking way,” He burst into laughter, his giggles echoing loudly through the phone.

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny,” You whine. He was probably the last person you needed to call, seeing as he almost never had a sympathetic response to your pain.

“It’s hilarious, and this is karma for trying to ignore his existence for the past 5 years,” He replies with a teasing lilt.

You hate that he’s right.

You were very proud of Joshua’s successes, in a “retired fan celebrating from a distance” sort of way. Yet, you tried to distance yourself so much from the blog that he inadvertently got caught in the crossfire. You cared about him so deeply for so long that you lost yourself in that, so you tried to cope with the state of your uneven relationship with him in your own little fucked up way.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I just didn’t think he’d be the one to do it, you know? I thought I’d get a polite email from his assistant, not my manager telling me he wanted to do a profile.”

“That means it’s personal to him, then. That’s actually kinda charming of him,” You feel your phone vibrate, so you check the notification.

Joshua messaged you on Instagram, and from a quick glance at your lockscreen, it’s long.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Wait, he just messaged me,” You quickly put Jeonghan on speaker and opened the app without a second thought. You read his message out loud:

joshuahong: Hi! Not sure if you’ve heard my request yet about the anniversary profile, but I would really love it if we could make it happen. I know it’s been a really long time, but I think it’d be fun to do it again. You’ve always supported me from the beginning of my career, so it would mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you, so we would definitely be catching up in more ways than one. We’ll only do it if you’re up for it though, please don’t ghost me this time lol

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan fills the silence immediately. You were pretty much lost for words, but you managed to speak. “Holy shit is right,” You mumble to yourself.

You suddenly feel guilty for trying to bury him out of your life, especially when he clearly said he misses you.

Were you trying to set your boundaries by pushing him away or were you just being an asshole?

“I feel really stupid,” You hate that you want to cry. You can’t reckon with the fact that Joshua has wanted to reconcile for so long that he had to do this to get your attention.

At least, that’s what the selfish part of you thinks. You know the interview is so much bigger than yourself, but then again, it is a symbol of you and the years of effort you put into your blog.

“You’re not stupid, but you need to worry about what you’re gonna say. Are you gonna say yes?” He asks.

Admittedly, you do feel the pull to say yes.

“I think I might. Is that a bad idea?” Internally, you know the answer, but your insecurities need some validation.

He clears his throat before responding. “I think you’ll regret it if you say no. I think it’ll hurt you more to not have closure with him.”

You don’t think you necessarily want anything out of this besides becoming friendly with him.

You’d like to think that’s what would’ve happened if you didn’t completely ice him out.

“That’s true. It’s gonna be so hard to see him again,” A whine pulls your lips into a pout and you already know Jeonghan will protest.

“Stop talking yourself out of it. Who knows, you might end up enjoying everything,” he suggests openly.

“That’s possible. His house is supposed to be insanely big,” You shake your head at the idea of how a 27-year-old millionaire pro figure skater would be living, definitely far better than your current apartment.

“You can only know for sure if you say yes.”

“I know,” You figure you need a vacation anyways, even if it means facing some unresolved emotional baggage.

“So, you know your answer then. I need to get back to work, but don’t blow him off. Respond to him tonight or I’m not giving you the deluxe massage package gift certificate like I promised,” Jeonghan was not above threatening you into action, and this one had the right level of stakes.

“Fine, okay,” You huff out, already opening the Instagram app again to motivate you into typing a proper response.

You exchange quick goodbyes and you let yourself look, albeit for far too long, at the message again to gain some inspiration.

Before you know it, you’re sending him a formal reply.

you: Hi! You’re right about ghosting, no excuses for that so I’m sorry lol. I’ve thought about it and I’d be happy to do it, it’s been too long since we’ve talked. Let me know the timeline you’re thinking of and I’ll get my schedule figured out

You figure that’s just enough to ease your nerves. It’s not exactly as earnest as his original message, but it’ll work for now.

You even send a screenshot of the message to Jeonghan as proof for the sake of accountability and the state of your deluxe massage package gift certificate. You place your phone on your nightstand to avoid fixating on another response, letting yourself go fix dinner and get ready for bed without thinking.

It’s only when you’re about to settle into bed that you remember your phone. You reach for it and Joshua, who is somehow extremely prompt with his messages, sends you another reply 10 minutes after your message.

joshuahong: Great! We’ll start sorting out more details then. I’m really glad you said yes

He’s already trying to pull at your heartstrings and it’s working. Despite everything, Joshua has always been kind. He doesn’t just seem nice, like what most celebrities are assumed to be around other people, he’s always made sure you know he cares about you even if you hadn’t known what to do about it.

You type out another quick response before going to bed.

you: Of course, it’s gonna be a lot of fun

You hope that’s true, you hope that you’re not already in over your head with the situation. He still seems to have faith in you, so why not trust that instinct?

—

During pre-trip preparations, you found yourself talking to Joshua far more often than before.

The conversations didn’t go too deep of course, you couldn’t get everything out of him before you even had a chance to conduct the interview, but the harmless banter seemed to slowly bridge that treacherous gap left between you two.

You even thought it would make your first meeting less awkward, but that wasn’t even remotely possible. It had only taken a few days for the entirety of the trip to be confirmed by your workplace and his team, and the final itinerary made your head spin.

You would follow Joshua around for a week, primarily to his private daily practices in an effort to show his infamous dedication to Olympics training.

All while you stayed in his guest room.

You couldn’t get out of that obligation, no matter how much you tried to convince him that you would be perfectly fine staying in a luxury hotel room paid for by your employer. He was confident that you could get a better view into his life while staying at his house which you reluctantly agreed with.

His idea definitely didn’t cross any professional boundaries at all, none whatsoever! This is what he’d do as a friend if you were coming to visit anyways, right?

You were still slightly afraid to hear his voice, you weren’t exactly sure why, but you were hoping it would keep the image of him unchanged in your mind until you saw him in person again.

You knew you were heavily biased going into this situation, so why not protect your heart for a little bit longer?

joshuahong: Are you nervous about tomorrow?

you: Not really

joshuahong: Y/N, please don’t lie.

you: I’m not!

joshuahong: I’m kinda nervous to see you, though

you: Really? Why?

joshuahong: I think it’s been 6 years since I’ve seen you in person. That’s scary to think about

you: The passing of time is scary

joshuahong: Definitely. Promise to not be awkward?

you: I’ll try my best!

joshuahong: That’s not a promise!

you: Fine, I promise but you have to promise too!

joshuahong: I promise :) now get some sleep, I don’t want to hear you complain when you have plenty of time to get 8 hours of sleep

you: You’re so mean!! but you too, get lots of rest so you can give me a good show tomorrow

He doesn’t reply to that last message, only using a heart emoji reaction instead.

The weight of the trip suddenly sits on your heart, and the main objective of writing an exceptional interview is somehow the least of your worries now.

—

The flight to Korea is unceremoniously long, you have far too much time and anxiety to let yourself fall asleep. You go through all the Netflix episodes you downloaded for the flight, finish the book that’s been sitting on your shelf for ages, and write down some preliminary notes about what you’d like to cover in the interview.

You decide to keep your ideas vague so that you’re not overexerting your brain during the flight.

First, a general discussion of the Olympics. That’s the main appeal of the article, seeing what his main preparations are like and hopefully getting some better insight about his feelings surrounding everything.

The second is his recovery from his last Olympics injury. He landed the most ambitious jump of his free skate program completely wrong, breaking his ankle in the process. It was during the last event of his Olympics run for that year, and he still placed third in the men’s individual skate program overall, but it’s been a sore subject for him in most interviews he’s done since the incident.

The footage is as agonizing as you can imagine, but the fact that he finished the routine at all is stunning. You figure that you can get some in-depth reaction about that moment and the subsequent recovery, more than the extremely media-trained answer he’s given about it before.

Lastly, the prospect of retirement. He’s said almost nothing about his plans after the upcoming Olympic games, but Olympics experts are convinced that the news is looming over his upcoming appearance.

You knew better than to ask him outright about it because he definitely wouldn’t give you a straight answer. From watching his recent interviews, you realized that Joshua has a tendency to go into a subtle apathetic mood when the interviewer hits something he’s not comfortable with. You hope that you can breach the subject without things going completely south. This interview was supposed to hit some darker aspects of the state of Joshua’s career, but you never wanted to make him uncomfortable.

Other than those topics, anything else he wanted to divulge to you would be a bonus. You wanted him to have a reasonable amount of control over what would go into the interview, so you’re not opposed to adjusting your interview material if needed.

The thought of his reactions to your questions swarms your brain in a frenzy, but you know you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The flight lands without any problems and you’re still trying to figure your thoughts out by the time you’re picking up your suitcase from baggage claim.

You’re soon greeted by Joshua’s driver, a tall man who holds a sign with your name printed on it, nodding in affirmation when you confirm your identity with him. He’s distantly kind to you, but it’s enough to put you at ease for the moment. You’re escorted to a tinted black SUV with a gentle hand opening the back car door for you. Your suitcase is carefully stowed into the back of the truck while you click your seatbelt into place across your lap.

You don’t realize how tired you are until the car starts moving. You didn’t bother to orient yourself with the time once you got off the flight, but you figure it’s somewhere between late morning and early afternoon by the way the clouds create a gray atmosphere in the sky.

Nonetheless, looking out the window is enough to pull you into sleep, and you indulge yourself in a short nap, barely considering where you may be headed.

—

It turns out that Joshua wanted to meet you at his home rink first which explains why you were waking up to the sight of a massive stadium.

You were slightly annoyed that you weren’t at a stable location yet, your body started to feel vaguely sick at the constant movement of the car.

You’re grateful that the car stops for a moment, you’re hoping Joshua takes a bit longer than expected to come out of the rink so that your body can stop feeling off center.

Unfortunately, he’s quite prompt, you notice him walking out only a few minutes later. He’s accompanied by two other staff members, seemingly debriefing him on your arrival as you see one of them point to the car.

You suddenly feel acutely aware of how disheveled you look in your inconspicuous airport outfit, barely awake enough to make proper conversation with him.

He arrives at the other back car door quickly, opening it with a big smile.

“Y/N! Hi, I’m so happy to finally see you again,” He’s excited, settling into the backseat across from you, slightly more perky than you expected.

“Hi,” You wave back politely, pushing your voice up an octave to match his energy that is nearly impossible to replicate in your current mood.

“I’m sure you must be exhausted, it was a long flight wasn’t it?” His brows furrow slightly, and his concern is evident on his face.

“Yeah, I’m still pretty tired,” You offer him a halfhearted smile.

“Well, we can recover once we’re at my place. We’ll have time to catch up on everything,” He reassures you with a nod.

He notices you’re still out of it, so you don’t talk for the rest of the ride to his house.

Through heavy eyelids, you steal a few looks at him and he really is as pretty as you remember. His boyish features filled out his face much better now, although he was always handsome.

You’re not sure how long his practice day was, but it surely didn’t show in his features. He caught you looking at him only once, you tried to be discreet while he was looking at his phone, but he still saw you.

It seemed like he had a sixth sense to know when someone was looking at him which, if anything, made it a bit more embarrassing to get caught.

He let you off easy though, smiling at you before turning his attention back to his phone.

It was a tiny gesture, but it reminds you just how much he seems to notice you.

—

You wouldn’t say you’re best friends or anything, but talking to Joshua for an extended period of time has made you miss being around him in person. His energy has always been the same after so long.

“So you just casually stumbled into an interview with Dwayne the Rock Johnson?” He’s somehow fully astonished at your celebrity interview stories, you notice the sparkle in his eyes and his smile is radiant, but you think that’s just the alcohol creeping up on him.

You both agreed to a drink after coming back to the house, you chose wine while he opted for beer. This has made the mood considerably less awkward and you’re grateful that you both pushed past the mandatory small talk.

“Yeah, the interviewer before me canceled so I got more time with him than I intended. Then the whole viral interview video happened,” You wave your hand before taking another sip of your glass.

“You say that as if it’s normal,” He pushes his hair back, slightly exposing his forehead. That was surprising coming from him, considering that he is far more famous than you would ever be. Yet, you assume that it’s because he’s famous in a more traditional sense, so content creation was never a part of his job to begin with.

“Well, it is if you’re good at it, which I am,” You brag, receiving a hearty laugh from him.

“Look at you, big shot,” He playfully swats your arm. “You really made it, huh?” He’s fond, his glance is soft and yearning for more. It’s far too sentimental for where you wanted this to go tonight, but you play along for a moment.

“I did,” Your cheeks are slightly too warm as you avoid his eye contact with a small smile, but you still have control over yourself. You decide to take advantage of it.

“I want to get some stuff recorded for the interview if that’s okay?” You don’t know why you ask for permission to start interviewing, seeing as it’s the entire reason you’re here in the first place.

“That’s fine,” He straightens up a bit, he doesn’t seem too affected by the alcohol either which will make this a bit easier.

“We’ll keep it pretty light today, considering this is just the first day.”

“I’m good with that,” He chuckles lightly. You know he’s watching you struggle to figure out the best way to interview him. It’s too much effort to find your laptop which is somewhere tucked away in a carry-on bag, so you settle for your phone.

“Ok, so,” you fumble with your phone’s record button on the Voice Memos app for a moment, “tell me your general feelings about the Olympics coming up.”

“I’m excited, I missed being in full competition prep mode. It’s an indescribable feeling, but everything is coming together nicely which is all I can ask for on the 4th time around,” He had a vague joy in his eyes, but you didn’t want to scrutinize the answer just yet, it was only the first question.

“What does full competition prep mode look like for you?”

“My practice days are much longer than usual, so I’m in the rink most days from sunrise to sunset, if I can help it,” He smiles sheepishly. That charm seems like it’s going to seep through every response he gives you, so he can possibly get away with some things.

“What do you like to do to destress after such long practice days?”

His eyes light up at the idea and he readjusts his position on the couch. “I like taking a cold shower and catching up on reality TV, I honestly like anything trashy.”

You didn’t peg Joshua to be a reality TV person, but it’s the exact kind of pop culture talk that his fans will eat up.

“Okay, then which one do you prefer, The Bachelor or Love Island?” You ask curiously.

“Love Island, easily,” He replies immediately. He smirks and you nod in affirmation. You knew he had good taste, you figure you’d have to ask him about some other TV preferences later.

“Good, that was the right answer,” You shoot back. You decide to drink the rest of your wine instead of nursing it any longer.

“Asking the tough questions, clearly,” He’s way too smug about it and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I told you we’re keeping it light! Unless you want to be asked about the future of your career while we drink,” Now it’s your turn to touch his arm, your hand intentionally doesn’t linger for too long though.

“I don’t, you’re right,” You know he’s not lying by the way he lets out a deep breath. There’s an unspoken tension at the thought of you bringing everything up.

“Okay, one more dumb non-skating question.”

“They’re not dumb,” He immediately catches your words and you blink at him, silently watching his face. He stares back, but his expression is slightly tender. Again, his face is almost too sweet for you to process. It threw you off this time though, so you have to look at the floor. You don’t even remember the question you meant to ask him, so you opt for a way out.

“Stop it.”

“What?” He genuinely looks confused, as if he’s not unconsciously doing the standard heartthrob boyfriend-esque banter.

“That was too nice,” You pick up your phone to stop the recording, still not facing him. Your body language is slightly more closed off.

“You act like you’ve never been complimented before,” He retorts.

You couldn’t say that it was different because he said it, you couldn’t give a shit if some random A-lister made you feel better about your work, but it was him.

“I’m not used to your compliments,” You indirectly emphasize him.

“Well, we’ll have to change that then,” He smirks.

That stirs something up in your chest, but you can’t quite name it. You decide it’s best to ignore it.

“Great. So are you gonna make me dinner or are we ordering somewhere?”

“I’m definitely not cooking,” He lets out a clipped laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. To be fair, he exerted more physical effort in a day than you’d do in an entire calendar year, so you weren’t exactly offended.

The night spun on with cheap pizza and varying levels of conversations. He even convinced you to watch Love Island, albeit one episode, until he decided he was too tired to continue.

He gives you a short tour of the guest room before retreating to his own room, and you finally get a moment to sit with your thoughts.

Joshua is friendlier than you expected and that was going to cause problems whether you liked it or not.

—

Although it was your first full day in town, the jetlag caught up with you almost immediately. Joshua mentioned last night that he would be at meetings throughout the afternoon, so you were grateful that you didn’t have to tag along.

Once you were thoroughly awake, you decided to investigate the house. As you suspected, it was far too big for him, especially considering he wasn’t home enough to enjoy it anyways.

The style of the house is typical celebrity fare, far too angular and minimalist for your taste. The shades of white, gray, and black that decorated his furniture and appliances were anything but inviting. It was all far too muted in your opinion and it made you miss the character of your apartment.

Besides a few framed photos of what you assume to be his family and friends along with some light decor, it looks like it could be plucked right off of a Zillow listing.

Even if you wanted to write some flowery prose about his house for the article, it leaves much to be desired.

“Are you settled in?” Your manager asks over the phone. She promised not to call you after this initial check in, but you figured she’d find other ways to be nosy about how things are going. She was a fan of Joshua, so her prying for extra details wouldn’t be completely unexpected.

“Yeah, everything’s been good,” You shared, completely nestled onto the couch with a blanket.

“How’s Joshua?” She inquires with a slight lilt.

“He’s doing well. We’ve already got some parts for the interview, but I haven’t seen him skate yet,” You recall the banter of last night with a small smile. You were both being friendly, it was completely harmless.

“Well, you still have a lot of time for that, but I’m glad you’ve made some progress. I’ll let you go, but let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” You respond. You exchange goodbyes and go back to mindlessly scrolling on Twitter.

“Were you talking shit about me?” Joshua asks. You whip your head around to notice him watching you, completely unsuspecting in his business casual attire. You shriek in fear, clutching the blanket before reaching over to throw a pillow at his face. He narrowly avoids it with a massive grin on his face.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” You sigh, pressing a hand to your chest to check your racing pulse.

“I’m light on my feet.”

“Yeah, clearly,” You grumbled.

“You look very comfortable,” He teases, pointing to your current seating position with a chuckle. Your body is completely wrapped up minus your head. It probably looks quite funny by the way he bites his tongue with a childish smile.

“I am. How were the meetings?” You deflect the attention onto him instead.

“Productive,” He walks around to join you on the couch, landing next to you with a sigh.

“Anything worth breaking an NDA over?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not,” He scoffed.

“Worth a try,” You finally free your arms from the blanket, but you’re still wearing a hoodie.

“Why did you need the blanket if you’re wearing a hoodie?” He asks politely, pointing to your chest.

“I get cold easily!” You protest.

This oversized maroon hoodie was your signature writing piece, you absolutely needed to wear it for big projects or else you wrote pure shit.

You’ve had it since you started writing professionally, a random thrift store find that has given you incredible luck over the years. It’s helped you through many long nights of writing and editing throughout your career.

Thus, you put it on in an attempt to stir up some inspiration, but to no avail.

Joshua is charmed by this backstory though, nodding along with his head in the palm of his hand.

“You think it’s dumb,” You’re projecting onto him, without a doubt.

“No, it’s not! It’s actually very cute. You can wear it to the rink later.”

“We’re still doing that?” You grimace. He joked that he was going to take you out onto the ice, but doing it this early into the trip felt like overkill.

“Unfortunately, yes,” He pouts. “I’m forcing you out of the house so that you don’t steal my blankets.”

“Very rude.”

—

The rink is far bigger than you could’ve imagined. You haven’t been in many throughout your life, but since it functions partly as a stadium, it makes you feel even smaller.

He leads you to the check in booth to introduce you to the staff onsite for the day. If he’s coming to practice solo, he remarks that the employees only door is typically unlocked for him, and his suspicions are correct.

“Hey, man, it’s good to see you again,” Joshua embraces a taller man into a hug once he walks through the door. “Cheol, this is Y/N,” He glances between the two of you with a hopeful smile.

“Y/N, this is Seungcheol.”

“Hi,” You wave politely and everything starts to register for you. You’ve known of Seungcheol for a long time through Joshua’s social media, you knew they were longtime friends and Joshua was always open about being close with Seungcheol’s family.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Josh has told me a lot about you, you’re always a hot topic around here,” Seungcheol smirks to Joshua’s dismay.

“Not in a bad way, everybody loves your writing,” Joshua tries to diffuse the tension with a short smile.

“Is Sumin here?” He switches the topic completely, looking around to the back door for any sign of life.

“Yeah, she’s just with her mom. I’ll go get her,” Seungcheol replies before heading further back into the venue.

It’s another minute or two before he comes back with a toddler in his arms, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joshua. She squirms in Seungcheol’s hold until he puts her down, and she takes off running until Joshua catches her in his arms.

“Joshie,” she screams into his ear. He spins her around for a moment until she’s giggling uncontrollably. It was absolutely adorable, it even got a smile out of you.

“Hi Minnie, how are you?” He’s beaming from ear to ear at her.

“Good,” she nods decisively. He points to you before introducing you to her.

“That’s Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine, can you say hi?” He coaxes her with a gentle voice.

“Hi,” She waves and Joshua is celebrating her again with a small kiss on the cheek. He seems like such a natural with her, it’s as if she’s his own daughter.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” You wave back and she offers you a shy smile.

“I have to go, but I’ll just be skating out there with Y/N, okay?” He reassures her with a sweet pat to her hair before handing her off to Seungcheol.

She puts her head on Seungcheol’s shoulder with another nod. “Out there,” she points to the ice.

“Yep. Be good for dad, I’ll see you later,” He winks at her before leading you both out to the ice.

Your heart is warm from the entire interaction. He sits down on the bleachers and you land next to him, silently placing his duffel bag onto the ground.

He unzips it to reveal your skates. He ordered them before you arrived, promising that he would get you to skate at some point during the trip. You just didn’t predict it would be this early on.

“How old is she?” You asked, toeing off your sneakers before putting on the skates one at a time.

“Two,” He smiles fondly at the thought of her. “Cheol and his wife are such good parents, they were worried about being too young but they’re perfect to her.”

“So you’re her godfather, I assume?”

“Is it that obvious?” He scrunches his face. He turns his attention to his skates for a moment, quickly lacing them up and tightening them. You didn’t even notice him taking off his other shoes.

“Yeah, you definitely gave off dad vibes, but it was sweet.”

“Him and his family have done so much for me, I couldn’t say no. I also helped him ask out his wife on their first date, so it was inevitable,” He pushes his hair out of his face with a grin.

“They helped you adjust here, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll always be grateful for them. It started with discounted rental fees because I couldn’t afford to use the space, so I owe a lot to them. I pay them back in any way I can,” He nodded solemnly.

He has a deep sense of gratitude that is admirable, it makes you wonder what it’s like to be so deeply initiated into someone’s life that there’s no question if you’ll be there forever, it’s just a matter of what role you’ll play.

It made sense that Joshua knew the place so intimately, he was clearly a member of Seungcheol’s family. He grew up in this rink, watched his friends grow and start their families. It was a safe haven.

“Are you ready to skate?”

“Barely.”

“That’s the spirit,” He rubs your shoulder before standing up. You also stand up, albeit far more slowly, facing toward the ice.

You’ve gone ice skating multiple times in your life, but not enough to remember anything past the basics. You step onto the ice, but you already feel like the surface is going to give out any second.

Joshua notices you start to flail and rushes to place a protective arm around your waist. “Are you okay?”

“No,” You squeeze your eyes shut and are already considering admitting defeat. The idea of voluntarily skating with an Olympic gold medalist had to be the worst idea you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you want me to get you the walker?” He asks sweetly. There’s absolutely no malice there, but it still feels slightly patronizing.

“Joshua, that’s not funny,” You whine, anxiously looking down at your skates.

“I’m not joking, I’m just giving you options!”

“No, I don’t need it. I just got nervous,” You reassure yourself. That was the truth, it was mostly the shock of being on the ice again after such a long time.

“Ok, so if I let go, you’ll be fine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m letting go. Just bend your knees if you think you’re gonna fall,” He slowly moves away from you, looking expectantly to see how you’ll fare on your own. His advice works and you find your balance without too much effort. You do remember how to move forward on skates, so you decide to impress him a bit.

You move easily, pushing your back leg out and to the side before alternating legs, making your way across the ice without much issue. He is visibly impressed, gasping at you with his arms crossed.

“You’re so good! I thought you were a beginner,” He praises you while skating over to your side.

“I am! I don’t know anything other than this.”

“That’s fine, then we can just expand on that skill today. Nothing crazy, I promise,” He calms your nerves with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

The skill in question is extending the standard forward movements into drawn out strokes, so it appears as though you’re gliding instead of walking on the ice. You would leave that back leg out for longer periods to create a more elegant appearance when you move forward. When he demonstrates the move, you’re mesmerized. No matter how many times you’ve seen him do the same moves, there’s still an enchanting quality to his skating.

He can elevate any move without much effort, but that is clearly from years worth of work and persistence into making his moves clean.

Joshua is an incredibly patient teacher, far more than you expected. There’s absolutely no frustration when you make a mistake, just a quiet encouragement to keep going.

When you unexpectedly lose your balance, he’s making sure you fall backwards so as to not injure your hands. When you’re visibly frustrated, he lets you take a break for a few minutes to regroup. There’s a level of care you didn’t expect, but then again, it’s Joshua. He couldn’t ignore your requests for help even if he wanted to.

You’re not ready to do full out spins or jumps yet, but you are instilled with a new confidence that you can at least try something new without getting immediately discouraged.

“Are you good with finishing up there?”

“Yeah, I feel good. I do need something from you, though.”

“And what is that?”

“Your best jump.”

“Best jump?” He looks back at the ice before facing you again, seemingly considering all his options. Despite all of your years of supporting him, you still didn’t know the difference between the jumps, but you figure it’s best not to ask for more explanation than this.

“Pretty please?” You flash a smile that he can’t deny. He lets out a quiet laugh and his eyes search the ground for a moment before he nods.

“Okay, I’ll do a quadruple jump combo, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sighs, squaring his shoulders for a moment.

“I appreciate it a lot,” You amp up the compliments in hopes that he doesn’t change his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” He skates away from you to find a solid starting position. You move to a corner wall to observe and stay out of the way.

He takes a deep breath before starting his entrance, snapping through both jumps with ease. He landed evenly, coming out into a pose for you, his arms pointed up with flair before putting them down again.

“Very impressive,” You compliment him.

“It was, wasn’t it?” His breathing is a bit uneven once he comes up to you again. You smile at his cockiness, but it’s well earned.

He restrains himself from practicing any further or else he’ll be here for hours on end, but that’s not too different from most days. He tells you this is one of his shorter visits, somehow being here for under 3 hours is an accomplishment worth celebrating.

You both say goodbye to Seungcheol and Sumin before heading out to his car. You climb into the passenger seat while he adjusts his seatbelt. He decides to let you interview him while he’s driving although you were fine with waiting until you were back at his home.

“So this current practice routine is the most intense level you’ve been at in the past 4 years?”

“Yeah, I slowly had to work it up to this point after the injury. It was almost painful to slow down that much, but I needed to,” He focuses on the road while responding. You’ve opted for writing notes on your phone and recording at the same time.

“How did it initially feel for you to go through it?”

“I hated it. I didn’t break my ankle normally either, so it wasn’t just the typical advice of staying off your ankle for 8 weeks. It took so much longer than everyone anticipated and I had to genuinely stop everything I was doing,” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel to your slight shock.

“I’m sure it was frustrating to not be able to enjoy that podium moment either.”

“Right, it was as if I didn’t even make the podium. I got 3rd place, but it was so excruciating to even be up there, I didn’t feel like I earned it,” He looks visibly upset just recounting it to you. It hurts to hear just how insecure he became afterwards. In hindsight, it makes sense that he didn’t want to spend time discussing it. Back then, the radio silence just made you hope that he was taking care of himself, not feeling pressured to keep anyone updated. Why would he want to constantly relive and dissect that kind of trauma?

“Do you ultimately want to redeem that moment?”

“I hope so. There’s always pressure to constantly outdo yourself, but I just want to finish the routines safely. That’s all I want,” He nods solemnly and you automatically believe him. Although he’s safely finished the other competitions within a season, there’s still an underlying fear of things going wrong at the worst possible moment.

“From what I saw today, you’re being careful,” You assure him. It’s not wrong to say that either, especially when he was helping you with the execution of the moves earlier. When he was done showing you a certain idea, he didn’t linger in the pose too long at all. It felt like he was overly cautious if anything, but you didn’t want to shift the mood too drastically.

“That’s from all the paranoia, trust me. I don’t want to feel afraid to compete, I want to break out of that habit,” He finally glances at you for a moment.

You’re grateful that he seems to echo your internal sentiment. There was never an air of hesitation around his skating, he was always quite self-assured in himself, but you both know that never conquering your fears could indefinitely stunt your growth. He obviously needed as long as possible to rebuild his self image and confront his fears.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll find that courage again,” You place a hand on his shoulder. The tension settles almost immediately at your touch.

“You think so?”

“I know you will. It’s either that or withdrawing from the Olympics which just sounds like a lot of paperwork, honestly,” You joke.

“You’re right, it’s a shit ton of paperwork,” He giggles and readjusts his hands on the wheel again.

You knew that last part wouldn’t be used for your final work, but it’s nice to hear him joke about it all. You liked being there for him as a friend, even if you’d never know exactly what it’s like to be in his position. He deserves that kind of empathy that’s not hollow or backhanded, you figure that’s the least you could do for him while being here.

You could finally even out the foundation of friendship in this way, silently repairing all the mistakes you’ve made in the past in regards to your relationship.

He’s able to talk a bit more about his recovery before the end of the drive and you feel satisfied by the end of the night. Over dinner, it feels like everything is evolving, not just the article itself. He’s opened himself up a bit further and you’d like to treasure that.

—

“You don’t have to stay the entire time, you know that right?” He turns his glance toward you away from the ice with a smirk playing on his lips.

The infamous 12-hour practice day had arrived, and you were dreading it the most out of the week’s schedule. Yet, you were committed to being as involved in his daily life as possible, despite your natural aversion to waking up at dawn. You didn’t want to be one of those writers that holed up in their hotel room to write their assigned article. It was typically out of your control how much time you were allowed to spend with a subject, but if given the option to spend more time with them, you wanted to take it.

Since it was Joshua, you still felt obliged to play catch up on spending time with him in any way you could, even if it meant watching him from the bleachers for an entire work day. Plus, you were already at the rink this early, there was no use in leaving to do touristy things alone when you didn’t necessarily want to do that anyways.

“I know, but I want to,” You retorted. He gives you that “you’re gonna eat your words” look, but he still accepts your answer.

“Are you still up to be interviewed once you’re done practicing?”

“Yeah, I should be good,” He takes a deep breath once he replies, seemingly preparing himself for the painstakingly long day ahead of him.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” You wave at him and he returns it immediately. You head up the bleachers to find a good seat, ending up somewhere towards the lower half of the seating. You wanted to be in a good position where you could view the full scope of his skating, but also capture the details of his face. Your position ends up being perfect, it makes watching him even more fascinating.

He does most of his stretches further away from you, so you’re caught craning your neck to see him. His muscles are well defined, a fact that you’ve been trying to ignore as the bulk of his arms seem to fight against the sleeves of his shirt as he stretches his limbs above his head.

His warm-up is calm yet still dynamic to watch. His jumps are so effortless that your head spins just thinking about the physics of jumping up into a spin and somehow not falling on your ass as you land.

Yet, he lands them perfectly every time. You know that’s not possible, that there’s probably some small tweak he’d make to the way he entered a jump or a correction he’d make to the angle of his landing, but you were fine living in ignorant bliss of the technical aspects of his skating.

You wanted yourself to enjoy being a spectator, to not fixate on every single detail, and simply enjoy an elite athlete being good at their sport.

He takes a small breather but soon goes into his assumed short program. Most diehard Olympics fans would kill to see even a glimpse of his routines for the impending games, but like any other figure skater, the details are carefully kept under lock and key until the competition begins.

You try to savor the image of him without the full theatrics of the actual performance, and the sight of him is enchanting.

His short program music is a bombastic and dynamic classical piece that forces you to focus on every detail of the performance. It’s a triumphant number, one that exudes the confidence and charisma of an experienced skater that knows the nuances of the song like the back of their hand. You decide that it suits him perfectly as he expresses the power of the song through cutthroat expressions and sharp movements.

After running through the full routine a few times, you notice him stop to take an extended break. He skates back to your side of the rink with a smile on his face.

“Falling asleep yet?” He jokes.

“Not yet,” you return the smile, your cheeks practically hurt just looking at him. It’s nearly impossible to avoid watching him, he’s always had this magnetic charm on the ice that makes him hard to ignore.

“Good, I haven’t bored you yet. How’s the writing coming?”

You glance at your laptop on the seat next to you, accompanied by scattered papers on top of the keyboard. The writing was mostly on pause considering the unusual environment, you didn’t ever write with the same classical song blasting in your ears on repeat.

Also, he was skating, so every time you thought you got into a good rhythm with writing, your eyes drifted back to him gliding across the ice. The sound of his skates hitting the ice was hard to ignore.

“It’s coming,” You lie easily. A quick tilt of his head signals that he knows you’re bluffing.

“Lots of strategizing, huh?” He doesn’t let on though, pointing at your notes instead and you’re nodding slowly.

“You’re not an easy person to write about,” You give him a pointed look and he’s grinning.

“So I’ve heard,” You’re glad he has some level of self-awareness. You’re not trying to give writers who are purposefully uninformed about his career when tasked to write a meaningful piece about him any credit, but he was a somewhat difficult subject.

Not in the traditional ways, of course, he’s not storming out of interviews over small details, but he’s so polished that it’s impossible to get much depth out of him beyond his typical media-trained answers.

You always heard the same things about him from other entertainment writers. He was perfectly kind and respectful to work with, but you would have to try especially hard to break him out of his mold.

Even if you felt that you knew him, you didn’t really know him at all.

The thought sits in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest.

“That means you actually have to keep giving me something to work with,” You sigh, gesturing your hands out toward him.

“We’ll see,” He playfully eyes you up and down, but it has a serious undertone. You’ve made some good progress, but you didn’t want to torture him for details. It wasn’t worth being invasive of his boundaries just to make a better article.

He skates off without another word and he’s back in the throes of practicing the routine. After a bit more technical work on the short program, he moves on to the free program.

The music is drastically calmer, it creates a stark contrast to his first routine. It’s still classical, you’d have to inquire exactly what track it was, but the mood of the piece was much lighter. It was smart of him to represent the full duality of his skating abilities.

His movements are almost fairylike, his delicate spins are effortless to watch. This doesn’t undercut the power of his jumps though, still as dramatic as ever. This routine contains far more quadruple jumps than the short program, likely in an effort to show off his technical prowess.

He wasn’t called the “technical prince” for nothing. It’s a nickname that’s been floating around the fandom since your early blog days, first used when fans noticed that young Joshua’s technical scores at competitions were almost always perfect. It’s followed him for years, evolving to show how clean his technique is.

He’s the textbook example of a good figure skater.

Once he finishes the routine, you can tell his stamina is reasonably depleted. From your occasional glances, you can tell it’s quite taxing to do multiple quadruple jump combinations in a row, yet he pulls it off every time.

The rest of the day consisted of him alternating between the routines, cleaning up details that he wasn’t happy with, and practicing the execution of his moves until he finally seemed satisfied with them. After a while, you figure you can’t write much else for this portion of the article without interviewing him again, so you settle further into the unforgivingly cold seats to watch him intently.

“Y/N!” He calls your name suddenly, waving his hand from across the rink.

“What?”

“It’s time to go home,” He beckons his hand for you to come toward him. You don’t hesitate to pack your laptop and assorted notes back into your purse, rushing over to meet up with him on his side of the rink. You don’t exactly know how to process being included in the concept of his home, even though you know it’s a harmless statement.

By the time you reach the other side, he’s already taken his skates off and replaced them with sneakers, his leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he watches you come over. He’s sat toward the end of the bleachers and you can sense that his body is ready to get moving.

“I just have to get a few things from the locker room and I’ll be ready to go. Do you want to go back there with me?” He looks toward the lengthy hallway behind him before looking back at you in anticipation. You didn’t go the first day he invited you to the rink out of an abundance of caution, mostly for your own heart’s sake.

You could keep yourself under control watching him collect his things, right?

“Yeah, I’ll go,” You nod decisively. He gets up and leads you through the hallway until you arrive at a private locker room, the door is adorned with a small nameplate with his name on it. He downplays how fancy it actually is, but it feels like a miniature hotel suite. In addition to the dressing room itself, it also contains a full private bathroom and sizable closet.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, looking around the room and taking in the full scope of it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” He adds. You’re still looking around and trying not to touch anything in fear of breaking something.

You turn around to voice your opinions, but you notice something else.

Joshua is shirtless. You weren’t exactly objectifying him, but it was definitely hard to not look at him. He’s taking a moment to wipe off the sweat across his chest, it feels a bit pornographic to keep looking at that point. The next time you look, he thankfully has a shirt on so your cheeks can stop fully burning at the sight of him.

He doesn’t notice your stare, but you do observe the shirts that fall to the floor when Joshua accidentally knocks his duffel bag onto the ground.

“I’ve got it,” You chirp, already reaching down to pick everything up.

“It’s okay,” Joshua hurriedly shoulders the bag back onto the bench, double checking that it’s not hanging off precariously like last time.

Your heads both come up at the same time, your faces only a few inches away from each other.

“Are you gonna move?” You inquire quietly. He stares back, obviously in no rush to fold. His glance is tempting, everything about him is tempting.

“Do you want me to move?” He counters.

Shit.

You didn’t want him to at all, the idea of him walking away makes you want to scream. The tension has been mounting the past few days whether you wanted to admit it or not. At first, you chalked it up to him just being a gentleman, but there was always a hint of something else there. His politeness toward his staff was completely different to the kindness he offered you.

The lingering glances on you when he’s cooking, his particularly fond smiles while you talk about something, and the soft touches all add up in your brain.

Now that you were in a different setting, it was crystal clear to you. If there was ever a sign, this was it.

“No,” You shake your head.

“Can I?” He asks and your heart has already melted into a puddle. No one ever asks you for a kiss. You’re not sure if you would’ve rejected him to begin with, but the tenderness leaves you enthralled.

You nod and he meets your lips with ease. He tastes better than you could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take long for you to move further into the kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth. He accepts you and naturally picks up the pace, capturing your lips over and over again leaving you few chances to catch your breath.

“Shit,” You step back first and he’s clearly confused.

“Are you ok? We don’t have to do this,” His voice is far too worried for what you’re actually thinking about, poor thing.

“No, I’m fine, I just remembered that I didn’t get to interview you,” You pout. You genuinely feel guilty for not mentioning it before the lust took over your mind, but it still needed to get off your chest.

“That’s okay, we can just do it here,” He reassures you with a nod.

“No,” you caress his arm, “not here.”

It clicks once you start running your hand up and down his bicep, eventually resting your palm on the side of his neck. The gesture is enough to make him arrange his bag faster than you’ve seen him move the entire trip.

—

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Joshua moans into your ear, momentarily taking his lips off yours to catch his breath. You can’t even form sentences at this point, only quiet moans that show your dissolving restraint. He can tell you’re getting tired of holding back too, in fact it seems to bother him quite a bit.

“I wanna hear you,” He whispers again, he suddenly nips your ear in retaliation for being quiet.

It forces a whiny moan out of your throat, it’s embarrassing to bend so easily to him but his quiet humming on your neck is enough indication to you that he’s satisfied.

He insisted on driving you both home and for good reason, he was so helplessly horny that he couldn’t keep his hand off your thigh for the entire drive home. You felt him snake his hand underneath your skirt, but he didn’t go much further than that, his thumb idly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.

The moment you both walked inside the house, Joshua couldn’t contain himself at all against your lips, thus you were barely standing up against the door.

“Josh, please,” you breathe out. Your voice is weak, you can’t even pretend to have your guard up anymore.

“What’s up?” He barely gets it out before his lips are on yours again. You whimper into the kiss again, tapping your hands against his chest to get his attention. You manage to pull away to speak up.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna fuck me against the door,” You pant, looking up at him with a smirk.

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head to look at you intently. You almost think he’s angry until he suddenly picks you up bridal style, ignoring your startled scream with a smile.

He leads you upstairs into his bedroom and tosses you on the bed lightly, you lean back onto your elbows as he inches closer to you.

“You’re so fucking impatient, you know that?” He giggles at you, hands slowly prying open your thighs with gentle hands. You try not to hold your breath in anticipation, but the touch of his fingertips against your skin is already driving you insane.

“You made us rush home because you swore that you needed to get more material for the interview,” He speaks in a low tone, sliding his hands underneath your skirt again, but his hands stop at your hips, massaging the fabric of your underwear.

“I did, I mean, I do,” You stutter out, making eye contact with him. He laughs at your attempt to be coherent and hooks his fingers under both sides of your underwear. He decides to slip the entirety of his hands underneath, seizing your hips with outstretched palms. He yanks you down the bed in one swift movement, making you gasp.

“You kept teasing me with this skirt, ignoring me and acting like you weren’t already soaked for me back at the rink,” He palms the front of your cunt, confirming how desperate you’ve been for him. It makes you shudder and squeeze your eyes closed.

“No no no, baby, keep your eyes open. You’re gonna interview me right now,” He nods at you and your heart drops to your stomach. You’re already somewhat close to cumming, you’re convinced that a single touch to your clit would send you over the edge.

How the hell were you meant to interview him like this?

“Fuck,” You whine, hips already lifting off the bed to gain more friction.

“I know, honey, you have to focus. Can you do that or do you need my cock that badly?” He teases you with lustful eyes and you clench your jaw. You’re determined to prove him wrong, so you put your energy into contemplating a question to start with.

“I can focus, asshole,” You begrudgingly shift your hips to give him better access. You shake your head and come up with a question on the spot, eyes trained on his expectantly.

“What’s a common misconception about your public persona that you hate?” Your voice holds steady and he slides your underwear off quickly.

He hums to himself for a moment, deciding to graze a finger lazily against your folds. “I’m not a people pleaser or a pushover. People think me being a gentleman means I take all kinds of shit, but I don’t,” He slips two fingers into your core, a light smile plays on his lips when he feels you clench around him.

“So you think people in the industry look down on you for that?” You hear your voice lilt for a second as he finds a steady rhythm, curling his fingers instinctively. Your hips are rocking subtly and he clocks this immediately, he moves to cage you between his legs.

“I know they do,” He confirms with a lift of his eyebrows, “especially when I was younger. It fucked with my mentality a lot, but I know better now,” He adds when he sees your pout. He moves up to your chest, tugging your shirt up slightly. He moves back to let you take off your top and bra, but his fingers are still expertly moving inside your walls. The sound of your wetness is absolutely stealing your focus, especially when Joshua decides to force his fingers inside you even harder with low grunts.

He’s an absolute menace, you’re sure of it.

You only nod to his answer, but he disapproves at your silence. “Come on, you know the rules,” He moves up to capture your nipple in his mouth, eliciting soft moans out of you. Your orgasm is definitely on the horizon, the coil in the pit of your stomach is tightening with every bite to your chest.

“So I assume you channel a lot of frustration into your-” He hits your g-spot particularly hard, you let out a strangled cry that forces a tear down your cheek. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but Joshua is already pushing it off your face to leave a peck on your lips.

“Your skating, shit,” You whisper, you force his head back down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. Your tongue enters his mouth with no hesitation and he returns the kiss just as eagerly. He pulls back after a few seconds and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“Definitely. People can say whatever they want about me, but I know I’m talented. I don’t have to resort to making shit up about my competitors to compensate for a lack of talent,” He laughs at the idea of being that desperate for attention. It makes your walls flutter around his fingers.

“You like it when I hype myself up, huh?” You watch him move to the crook of your neck, biting down hard on an exposed part of your skin.

“Yes, yes yes,” You slur out, eyes fluttering shut. He giggles at your temporary lack of attention before kissing across your jaw. He retreats back down to your thighs again, placing a finger against your clit.

“One more question and you can cum, I promise,” He nods at you and you return it after a moment, but it’s going to be an uphill battle to arrange your mushy brain into a proper thought.

“Do you think you’re the best figure skater in the world?” You sigh into the air, eyes rolling to the back of your head in frustration. It’s an absolutely loaded question, but you know his ego is massive right now since you’re in the palm of his hands.

His fingers still, the pressure remains deep in your core and he runs his free hand through his hair. The whole act would be far sexier than it already is if you weren’t seconds away from covering his fingers in cum.

He laughs quietly before speaking up again. “I do. We both know I am,” His voice is far too cocky for his own good. His stare is stone cold, he holds so much control over you that it’s almost unbearable.

“Now cum,” His nonchalance sends you over the edge instantly. Your high pitched moan goes completely silent, your mouth agape while your neck tilts back in an effort to regain control. Joshua slips his fingers out and moves up to your face, pressing them gently on your bottom lip. You suck them off immediately and watch him coo at you. “Good job, baby. Ready for anything else?”

“Can I take a nap?” You furrow your eyebrows at him, heart full of malice for his unexpectedly great oral skills, yet he’s still smitten with you.

Honestly, Joshua Hong was always gonna be great in bed. It’s not like you didn’t fantasize about having sex with him over the years, but you didn’t expect the prophecy to fulfill itself this easily.

Somehow, he got you all whiny and pliant when you didn’t expect it at all. It was annoying how well he could please you. You were slightly tired, but you didn’t want him to be a cocky shit on top of you again just yet. You needed to recover.

“Sure,” He finally got off the bed, presumably to help you clean up and your suspicions were correct when he returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. You started to sit up, but he made you lie down again.

Who were you to fight Joshua when he offered to tend to your shaking thighs and messy cunt? It was the least he could do after making you work for your orgasm.

—

The next morning, you’re shocked that Joshua is in bed next to you. He was always up and moving pretty early, deep into his morning routine while you were barely conscious.

You, on the other hand, were trying to treat this week partially as a vacation. When Joshua wanted to bring you along to his private schedules, you were still insistent on taking your time to get ready, much to his dismay.

Thus, you were grateful that he could actually slow down for one day while you were here. As your eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the curtains, you realized this was the rest day placed onto his schedule for the week.

You look over to his sleeping form and realize that you’re deeply entangled with his body. Although you’re lying flat on your back, his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. You don’t dare to move your arms or legs though, as his body keeps you essentially trapped into place next to him.

Your minimal movements still stir him awake.

“Hi,” you whisper. He’s still forcing himself into consciousness, but he waves at you. You sit in silence for a few minutes, silently waking each other up with random touches on each other’s face or arms.

“We had sex three times last night, correct?” You ask out of the blue. He’s visibly confused at your sudden line of questioning.

“Not even a good morning?” He mutters, letting out a big yawn immediately after.

“No. I wanna know because I know you remember.”

“After that first part? I’m pretty sure it was three,” His voice is slightly hesitant, but you trust his answer considering he was dominant the entire time. You also wanted to know because it was becoming increasingly harder to deny how much you like him.

You have to admit, it was nice being able to have him like this, to watch him rub the sleep out of his eyes and cuddle without questioning if he wanted you back. He clearly did, even if his pride wouldn’t let himself say it. It was a matter of who would crack first, now that you’ve established the fact that you have undeniable sexual chemistry.

“How did you get me to go three more times?” This question is especially pertinent now that your muscles felt the aches to match that number. You can barely sit up against the headboard without wincing.

“You asked me to,” He put his hands up in defense.

You now remember that you did ask to keep going. The first time was standard, being called a cockslut during the second round made you go feral enough for a third, and the absolute filth of the last round knocked you out completely.

You were fucked, considering that you didn’t want to have sex with anyone else but only had access to said person for a few more days.

“Right,” You sigh.

“What are you planning to do today?”

“I’m gonna edit the article a bit, I’ve been putting it off. What about you?”

“Chores. I need to get a lot of things done, but remind me to run you a bath at some point today. Your muscles hurt, right?” He’s already out of the bed, stretching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, but I don’t-”

“No, I’m running you a bath. Us, technically since my muscles hurt too,” He raises his eyebrows at the thought of pampering himself, but he’s still insistent on the idea.

“Fine,” You bite back the rest of your response and he picks up on it immediately.

“No rebuttal?”

“No,” You pout, jutting your lip out to garner some kind of sympathy. He falls for it, approaching the bed again.

He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, his mouth naturally moving up to kiss your cheek as well.

“I promise it’ll be worth it, you’ll feel a lot better,” He softens his delivery for you and it barely hurts once he pulls away. He’s had that effect on you lately, his affection so irresistible that even the worst news has a slightly sweet aftertaste coming from him.

“Come on,” He taps his side of the bed to coax you up, and you slowly follow him.

The encouragement works though, as you’re both propelled into a productive afternoon. Joshua gets all of his chores done, somehow doing three loads of laundry and other assorted tasks while you’re editing.

Meanwhile, you’re firmly planted on the couch, trying to make the interview sound cohesive. You don't need to fully edit while you’re on the trip, that’s not even possible with what you have, but you wouldn’t feel right just leaving the entire process until you arrived home.

Joshua gives you an adequate amount of space, only stopping you to make sure you ate lunch or took a break from looking at your laptop screen.

They were welcome distractions, truly. If the process of trying to capture Joshua accurately in the article didn’t make any sense, it was nice to know the real Joshua was somewhere flitting around the house doing the dishes or vacuuming the living room.

Plus, it was nice to paint domestic scenes about him in your mind.

Joshua doesn’t take breaks much at all, this has been true for his entire career. He’s always competing, always performing, always doing someone a favor by being a guest of honor or special performer. It was nice to see him just exist, to fret over if he had enough laundry detergent for his next load and watch him sort his white clothes from his colorful wardrobe.

You wonder if these moments add up for him too, if he craves this kind of quiet domesticity at times.

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and you look up at him.

“Can we take a bath now? Is it a bad time?” He worries, but you’re ready to pause.

“No, I’m ready,” You confirm. He helps you off the couch with a steady hand. You walk side by side on the way up the staircase this time, arms linked with hands untouched.

His master bathroom is just as simplistically ornate as you figured it would be. The bathtub overlooks the backyard, displaying a gorgeous view of the city skyline right above the trees.

The sun was about to set, so the view was even more picturesque than you could’ve imagined.

Throughout the day, your aches have been pressing at the back of your brain, interrupting your thought process multiple times, so much so that you don’t know why you fought him against this in the first place.

He opts for picking the right temperature for the water while he leaves you to pick out a calming scent to include in the bath.

You pick an expensive looking lavender bubble bath and he smiles when you place the bottle in his hands.

“I’ve been meaning to use this one, actually,” His eyes light up.

“Sure you have,” You sit down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. You both observe the water slowly filling up the tub, he silently squeezes the bottle under the running water before retreating once the bubbles start to spread throughout the surface.

You both sit in silence just watching the water fill up, the sound of the faucet echoing throughout the room. Once the tub becomes noticeably fuller, he adds more bubble bath until the top is visibly covered with bubbles.

He insists on getting in first, stripping his clothes easily before settling into the tub slowly. You can already see the tension leave his muscles, especially on his face. His jaw loosens and he takes a deep breath.

He opens one eye and giggles when he sees you hesitate to enter. “Come on, I don’t bite,” He reassures you.

You move to take your clothes off in a few quick movements. He watches you with adoration, as if he’s never seen you naked before and he’d like to take it all in for a moment. Stepping into the tub isn’t too difficult, but when he suddenly pulls your waist down, the splashing startles you.

“Josh, you’re gonna get water everywhere,” you whine.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, remember?” He pulls you flush against his chest. He punctuates his question with kisses behind your ear.

Right. You force yourself to take a breath and settle into his skin.

You know your skin is littered with light bruises from the night before and he seems to notice this, his hand silently tracing over the red marks before stopping near your collarbone.

Once he stops moving and you stop overthinking, the silence is perfect.

It’s not entirely silent, there’s still the hum of the overhead fan creating ambiance, but the dim lights pull you into the fantasy of it all.

You realize that you haven’t felt this peaceful in a long time. Perhaps it’s his presence or the fact that you haven’t sat in silence on your own in so long, but you want it more often.

You want him to envelop your life with his gentle reminders and caring gazes, silently telling you that there’s no point in working yourself to death if there’s no life for you to live outside of that.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever want your career to slow down?”

He sighs so deeply that you feel it in your chest. “Is this off the record?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes. I want to slow down so badly, it feels like my body is fighting back against how much I work sometimes,” His response is slightly pained, adjusting his body underneath you.

You pause for a few moments before speaking up again. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t-,” He hesitates.

“It’s okay,” Your voice mirrors the softness that he’s given you throughout the day. He gathers his thoughts for a second before trying again.

“I don’t know who I am as a person if I don’t work. This has been my entire life, if I get a few days to myself I feel like I’m going insane,” He sounds so tired of keeping up the charade, tired of being everyone’s perfect gentleman, just tired of it all.

“Have you told your team?”

“Yeah. After this Olympics cycle, I’m pulling back. I need to before it’s too late, you know?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want you to burn out even more.”

“I’ve been burnt out for ages, so what’s a little bit longer,” He chuckles bitterly. It felt like a poor response the moment you said it, but something in you hoped it wasn’t wrong to be concerned.

“So you’re gonna do the charity skate tomorrow even though you’re burnt out,” You predict.

“I mean, yeah, the skating itself isn’t the problem. I love performing, I’m just not built to keep going without consistent breaks anymore,” He reasoned.

It made complete sense knowing how quickly his career ascended once he entered the elite circuit. He hasn’t left the top 10 of the World Standings since his first full elite competition season which is incredibly hard for anyone to keep up throughout their career.

It’s no wonder that he’s tired of keeping an unmanageable pace.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper. You don’t know what else to say. What could you even tell him?

“Please, it’s not your fault.”

“Do you want me to put this in the interview? Or just write some filler paragraph about it?” You giggle through the last question and he's amused as well.

“Filler, please. I’m confident you won’t make me sound like a dick,” He plants a kiss on your cheek as a silent thank you.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I am excited for the show tomorrow though,” He shifts the conversation and it’s a welcome change.

“Anything fun planned for your number?” You asked.

From what you’ve read, Joshua’s rink held the annual charity skate event in order to honor the professional skaters who train in their facilities, allowing them space to perform routines that they may not have had the chance to otherwise. Notoriously, skaters were extremely flashy with their songs and costumes since there was significant creative freedom.

“Not really, it’s nostalgic of my old numbers.”

“Will I remember it?”

“Definitely, it made your ranking of my best performances forever ago,” His laugh vibrates through your body.

“That list definitely holds up, by the way,” You defend your teenage choices blindly, you definitely hadn’t seen it since you posted it, but it’s nice that he actually remembered some of the content you posted.

“I know you’ll love it,” He presses a long kiss on your cheek once again, but lingers against your face this time.

You’re back to silence again for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” You apologized. You can sense that he’s already shaking his head no at your words before you can finish your sentence.

“It’s just as much my fault as it’s yours.”

“You know I was avoiding you, though,” You clarified.

“I noticed that,” You could tell that he was smiling through the response, it makes your cheeks burn.

“I was definitely doing the same though,” He immediately follows it up. In all honesty, it was a relief that both of you decided to bury yourselves in shaping your respective careers. You were unintentionally coping in the same ways, silently hoping the other person was making better choices.

Alas, you were too similar for that to be true.

“But you know what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really proud of you. I haven’t told you that enough and I feel terrible. I should’ve been there for you,” he replies earnestly.

After all this time, he was proud of you. In retrospect, you thought you were too obsessive or had unintentionally crossed his boundaries as a fan. Yet, that was never the case. He was always grateful that you supported him at every turn, so why wouldn’t he return that gratitude to you?

You didn’t need his validation, the initial interview all those years ago was enough to satisfy you a million times over, but he needed to express it.

You were eternally grateful that he acted on that need.

However, that last part of the confession urges you to sit up completely. You turn your body as much as possible to face him without splashing the water too much.

“You were there for me.”

“Leaving comments on your Instagram is not supporting you in the way you need, you know that,” He counters.

He’s right. You adjusted your expectations for Joshua years ago, you weren’t happy with how things were, but you accepted that your communication would always be limited.

You didn’t have the courage to talk to him, you figured things would never change. It wasn’t smart, you wasted far too much time refusing to invest in your relationship simply because of your own cowardice.

It seems he also became content with barely doing enough.

“I’m sorry for doing the same thing.”

“This can be a truce, then. I want us to be closer if you want that,” He holds out his hand and you take it immediately.

“I absolutely want that,” You're grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt. “So this means you want to kiss me again?”

“You have a massive hickey on your neck and you don’t think I want to kiss you again?” He’s almost fed up, but that smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m just making sure,” You lower your head coyly. “Come here, babe,” He beckons you over, but he’s too eager to let you make the entire distance. He captures your lips with ease, placing his hand on your cheek. You steady yourself with your hand on his arm, leaning into the kiss with a sense of urgency.

It’s only a few moments before you pull back. “Josh, the water is so fucking cold,” You laugh through your shivers.

He reaches behind you to open the drain and kisses you again. You can’t help but smile against his lips.

The new uncharted territory you’ve forged with him makes your skin burn with excitement.

—

As soon as you arrive at the backstage area of the rink, Joshua’s whisked away by his stylist and assistants to the dressing room. You’re escorted to a VIP viewing area towards the top of the rink, a lounge with access to multi-view screens and a bird’s eye view of the ice.

Before the show starts, you familiarize yourself with the other figure skaters performing tonight. You’ve heard of all of them to some extent, having watched them in anticipation of Joshua’s performances in the past at invitationals and other competitions. Tonight was no different, as Joshua would be the last skater performing tonight.

The marketing team knew exactly what they were doing with that decision.

There were definitely fans of the other skaters dispersed throughout the stadium, but most people you saw were Joshua fans, carrying slogans and wearing merch with his name on it.

Some people even recognize you on the way up to the VIP section which throws you for a loop. They were mainly shocked that you were even at this kind of event in the first place, but it felt validating to be complimented for something outside of him.

Although the other skaters are highly entertaining to watch, your mind feels ready to see Joshua perform. Their performances are satisfying, but that particular spark is missing. It feels reminiscent of when you’d anxiously stay up to watch livestreams of his performances at 3 am, live updating your followers on the exact time when Joshua would be performing.

It was bittersweet to be able to watch him in person. It’s been years since you’ve watched him perform in the flesh, but the circumstances feel perfectly aligned.

“Performing Every moment of you, please welcome Joshua Hong,” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium speakers and the stadium erupts into cheers. The sight of him waving to the camera is enough to leave the stadium in shambles, so his steps onto the ice are even more precious.

The pink top was the right choice now that he’s about to perform. He made you pick between a few options earlier in the day, but the sheer sleeves and pastel color match the mood perfectly. His side parted hair is neatly styled and light makeup highlights his soft features. The lighting really does his face justice as he purses his lips slightly, adjusting his head slightly down to enter his starting pose.

He moves a hand onto his heart and tucks his right leg behind his left.

As soon as the music starts, your heart clenches.

He chose this particular song, out of all his older routines. This song was in constant rotation throughout his first elite competition season, you could practically see it in your sleep.

When you watch him, you notice that the routine has barely changed either, the step sequences are just as smooth as you remember with delicate flairs of his new style.

The music is somehow more emotional than you remember, a sign that his artistry evokes such a vivid image that you can only think of him and this particular routine when you hear the song.

The execution of his combination jumps are flawless as always, and the audience agrees with loud applause every time he lands them. It seems as though he doesn’t have to try as he glides around the rink, a dreamy expression paints his face as he visibly connects with the lyrics.

He always transformed into a new character in every routine while still maintaining his own distinct style, it was something you deeply admired about his skating.

Before you know it, the song slowly comes to a close and Joshua stands in that final pose you remember so well, his face settling into a soft smile.

The crowd is absolutely obsessed with him, you look to see that many people were on their feet for a standing ovation. You immediately join in, looking toward his reaction. The cameras capture his shock, he’s pleasantly surprised by all the fanfare. He takes it in for another minute or so, looking up at the people in the stands with appreciative eyes. He finally bows his head and waves before skating off the ice.

When the entire group is called back onstage for final bows and the closing ceremony, he is once again dazzled by how intensely the crowd cheers for him once he’s introduced onstage. It’s precious to watch him try to shake it off with his hands on his face, looking to his fellow performers for a way to avoid the attention. He has always been appreciative of his support, always remaining humble in the face of his popularity constantly growing.

It doesn’t take as long as you expected for him to meet up with you. He asks you to wait in the hallway outside his dressing room, and he soon emerges; he barely lets you get a word out before enveloping you in a hug.

“What did you think?”

“I didn’t think you’d pick that one, honestly!” Your enthusiasm quiets when he kisses you and you suddenly feel acutely aware of the staff around you. He notices your shyness and pulls himself against your ear again.

“We’ll be alone soon, okay? I’m glad you liked it,” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss on the cheek. It made you relax into his touch and hold your hand while you were still in the venue.

Once outside, he lets go to briefly wave at the crowd of his fans before placing his hand on the small of your back.

You hear the gasps when he does it, but you don’t look back at the crowd. The judgment stays in your skin once you’re both escorted into the SUV, even when Joshua’s trying to get your attention with kisses to your hand.

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

“Nothing,” It’s easier to lie in the moment. He eyes you for a bit longer but ultimately doesn't question you any further.

You can’t tell him that everything feels especially temporary now. You know what it’s like to be on the opposite side of it as a fan, the initial feeling of seeing him make contact with a new romantic interest is always shocking. Neither of you owed them anything, you never had to reveal the depth of relationship if that’s what you both wanted.

He says he wants you, but that inevitable “what happens next” conversation hasn’t happened and you’re leaving in the next 48 hours. If there was any time to figure out the definition of your relationship, it was now.

Although the conversation in the bath last night was enlightening, you needed some kind of finality. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for vague promises anymore.

Will he make you a priority when his schedule is about to amp up even more?

If you needed to move on, you’d rather know now before you’re on another 13 hour flight left to your own devices.

—

You’re able to tag along with Joshua to his practice session with his coach on your last full day in town.

Although the conclusion of the trip takes up most of your brain space, it’s still interesting to watch his skating become informed by a new perspective. You couldn’t hear all of the critiques in detail, but it was enough to understand how Joshua’s energy was shaped through their leveled guidance.

He switched from his longtime coach once he broke his ankle, understandably citing that the old coach had pushed him to the point of collapse, no matter how grateful he may have been for his old coach’s support thus far.

The dynamic was far more supportive, you concluded. You were able to get more writing done, but your eyes drift to him more often than not.

He practices intensely for around 6 hours today, still a considerate amount of time considering the other practice days in his schedule. He didn’t appear distracted when you were watching him, but he was clearly eager to be alone with you again. He was practically pulling you into the front door once you arrived at his home.

He leads you upstairs to his bedroom before closing the door quickly.

“Kiss me,” His request is urgent, and you oblige despite feeling hesitant.

It’s best to just kiss him, to enjoy a good thing standing right in front of you while you have it.

He’s showing all his tells that he wants more than just kisses, cradling the back of your head, moaning into your mouth. It all still feels so enticing.

Yet, as always, he seems to notice something’s off before you can. He must notice the tension in your body that you tried your best to will away. He pulls out of the kiss and examines your eyes.

“Are you ok?” He’s slightly panting. You force yourself to close your eyes to steady your nerves.

“No,” you admit.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, you know that.” He knows exactly what you mean by the way his shoulders drop. He looks nervous, not sure if he’s about to lose you.

“Why not? What would be so wrong about being with me?” He’s genuinely upset, fighting your answer almost instantly. Therein lies the problem, there’s nothing wrong about dating him as a person. It was simply the logistics that made everything far more complicated than your heart could bear.

“Nothing,” your voice trembles. “It would be great,” A tear falls from your eye and he’s already reaching up to wipe it away. You don’t stop him from touching your face.

“But I can’t be halfway across the world from you, I can’t watch you pretend to love me and then start dating someone else right in front of my face again.”

“You know dating Ara wasn’t my choice, I wouldn’t do that to you again,” His voice is strangely quiet.

Ara was a famous Korean actress who was practically a critic’s darling at this point in her career. She dated Joshua for 4 years, long enough for the Korean public to become absolutely enamored with the idea of them. The concept of Korea’s charming upcoming actress and Korea’s technical skating prince dating each other was obviously popular among netizens, so their sudden breakup was quite shocking.

Their conflicting schedules made it a perfect storm for them to stop speaking to each other.

It all ended very publicly, but somehow Joshua was still beloved in the end. He always was.

At a work gala he was the guest of honor for, he told you that he wanted to be with you over drinks. There were many kisses exchanged in a secluded hallway, promises linger against your skin and you thought they were real.

She was his plus one, but he insisted that they were just friends.

You trusted him, and their relationship was announced a few days later. You were crushed, it made you regret ever thinking you could be more than a fan who simply pushed her luck.

“You stayed with her for 4 years, you loved her,” You persisted.

“No, I didn’t.”

“She said you did,” It bites harder than you expect, but it’s true. There were numerous interviews of her confirming the depths of their relationship. Whenever she mentioned him, there was always long-term commitment implied.

“I promise you I didn’t.” He squares his jaw as he insists on it being false.

“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just let me down easy? You do it with literally every fan,” You shake your head, knowing exactly what he’s been through. You’ve seen the death threats, ultimatums, and invasive love offers that he’s received over the years. If he could handle that with grace, he could at least give you a proper response.

“You know you mean more to me than that,” He begged.

“If I mean more to you, then you shouldn’t have done it,” You respond. It’s selfish, you know it is.

“You can’t be fucking serious! It was to further my career, you of all people should know that,” He yelled. His voice doesn’t deter you, it simply makes you more determined.

“You could’ve fought back like you’ve done at any other point of your career. You should have fought for me,” You try to yell back but your voice falters again.

“This is me fighting for you, I want you,” He pleaded, moving closer to you out of desperation. Yet, you avoid his eye contact to close your eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” You griped, shaking your head out of frustration. You hate that he’s dodging the question. You’ve seen him fight over much less, you’re not sure why he can’t recognize that he could’ve tried for you.

“You’re fighting me over hypotheticals, shit that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“You had another reason,” You state unremarkably, finally opening your eyes again. It was never a black or white situation, not with him.

“What?”

“You stayed with her for another reason.”

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and internally resets before looking at you again.

“I didn’t want you to feel tied to me. I already knew what people were saying about you because of me, I knew you didn’t want me overshadowing your career. I didn’t want to haunt you,” He seems desperate to make you see his side of it.

“But you did, from the moment I met you. I knew I’d never be able to get over you. I built up a picture of you in my mind for years, and you actually fit it. I was stupid enough to think that my dumb luck would actually let me date you,” You confessed. You lower your head by the time you finish speaking.

He didn’t seem to understand that the dynamic would’ve always been uneven between you, but you were willing to risk it.

“Y/N,” He starts.

“I was fucking devastated that I still needed you,” you interrupt him, “I was doing perfectly fine, but I knew I would regret not doing this interview. I let you in one last time, to see if it’d be different than before, but you’re not ready. You’re still not ready and it was my fault for expecting too much of you.”

The silence is loud, you both have to process all of the feelings stirred up between you.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if that’s enough.

“Just indulge me for a second, do you love me?” You ask desperately.

He doesn’t speak. He looks torn, as if he wants to but something deep inside himself still hesitated to admit it. It confirms your worst fear, that even when there’s no other obstacles in the way, he can’t be what you need.

You scoff, wiping your face once again.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, I guess,” You walk back to your room and shut the door behind you. You unconsciously listen for any movement outside the door, to see if he would chase after you.

He doesn’t.

He does a variety of tasks in the kitchen, you hear running water and the sound of cabinet doors shutting, but he never approaches the door.

The kitchen light turns off and you hear his bedroom door shut.

You’re honestly glad he left you alone, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

As you settle into bed, you remember that he wanted to drive you to the airport tomorrow.

You’d rather walk the entire way than let him see you like this.

—

Joshua is an idiot, all things considered.

It was right there, he had the chance to tell you everything and give you his entire heart, but the words were stuck in his throat. He can barely go to sleep that night, but he could at least send you off to the airport the next morning.

It was wishful thinking that the drive would be any less painful, but he could at least fulfill his promise of taking you there. Thus, he doesn’t expect the guest room to be empty when he stumbles out of his room to go make himself breakfast.

He’s suddenly on high alert, thinking of all the things that could’ve possibly happened to you.

His internal monologue stops when he sees a note downstairs on the kitchen counter. He picks it up and curses under his breath.

“Changed my flight, your driver took me to the airport. Thanks again for letting me stay. - Y/N”

The message feels so stiff, it lacks any of your personality. Yet, he couldn’t pity himself for too long, he had to find you.

He had no idea if your flight had already taken off or not, but he at least had a location. Your original flight wasn’t until late afternoon, so he figured you must have been really fed up to change it to a mid-morning flight. The anger you felt transcended your hatred of mornings, and that was enough to really get Joshua moving.

He decided to stick with the clothes he had on to minimize the amount of time in the house. He wasn’t sure if it was smart to buy an impulse ticket for a flight he wasn’t going on, but he did it anyway.

As he sat in his car, he wasn’t sure if he locked the front door, but the adrenaline made him forget altogether.

The drive to the airport was a complete blur, he was certain that he blew through a few just-turned-red lights in an effort to get there. Once he arrives, he is anything but discreet.

He thanks his lucky stars that he gets a short security line so that he can run through the airport to find you. He only stops to check the massive flight board for flights to your city before picking up the pace again, almost running into a few people on the way.

He just had to make it to gate 12.

He spots the gate out of the corner of his eye, almost missing it due to his haste. He scans his eyes quickly across the group of people to see if you could possibly be there.

He’s almost given up on searching for you, but just like the movies, he finds you sitting in the corner wearing that particular writing hoodie.

He knows whatever way he chooses to approach you, it’ll scare you. Yet, he opts for the least terrifying option.

He walks over, taking a small breath before speaking up.

“Hi,” It comes out far too hesitant, but it still gets your attention. You look up at him, evidently confused but annoyance shows up quicker.

“What are you doing here?” You’re not moved at all, he felt like an inconvenience.

“We need to talk. Can I sit with you?” He points to the empty chair and you stare at him for a moment. You quietly oblige, giving a quick nod. You didn’t reject him outright, so that’s a win in his book.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I should’ve told you how I felt,” His voice is hushed so as to not disturb anyone else around you. Most people were sitting further away, but he didn’t want to take any chances. You only look forward, not acknowledging him at all.

“I thought about everything and you were right to be worried. I haven’t shown you that you can trust me to commit,” He continues.

“Whatever you want to do, that’s fine. I just,” He stops his train of thought to take a breath.

“I love you. I should’ve told you the moment you asked me, I should’ve told you the first day you came to town. I always knew,” He finishes with a shaky breath. You both sit in silence for longer than he’d like, but it’s understandable. Your longtime crush lets you down then admits he’s loved you for ages, it’s a lot for anyone to process.

“Joshua?”

He turns to face you. “Yeah?”

“That was corny as fuck,” You let out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He’s happy to see you smile for a bit, even if it’s at his expense.

“I know, I just needed to tell you before you left,” He laughs quietly. It covers up the temporary embarrassment he feels. No matter what you tell him, he figures that it was worth it to put everything on the line.

“I forgive you, though. And I love you too,” You smile through the reply and your voice is the softest he’s ever heard it.

The newness of it all makes him blush.

“Still can’t look at me, huh? Do I make you nervous?” He touches your shoulder in a silent plea for you to let him in.

“Fuck off,” You finally make eye contact with him and grab his hand, fingers automatically intertwined with his. You press the back of his hand to your mouth for a kiss. The gesture quiets all his lingering fears.

“I’m not relocating for you though, I like my apartment and my job,” You give him a pointed look.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Plus I told you I’m trying to slow down, remember?” The realization hits your face and it makes him giggle.

“Does that mean you’re moving in with me?”

“It might,” He suggests. He thinks he’s a pretty decent roommate, but he’d change his bad habits in a heartbeat if it meant you were more comfortable.

“Not before the Olympics though. And you’d need to sell the house, right?”

“Yeah. Shit, you’re really getting ahead of me here,” He didn’t really consider all the details yet, especially thinking about how shocked his management team would be at the decision, but he knew you were too good to lose.

He lived enough of his life without you, and it was time to switch things up.

“Just making sure you’re aware of what all of this would mean,” You remind him. It was a completely fair critique considering how many directions his life was currently being pulled in.

“Of course, but I’m coming to visit before I move. Many times,” He’s already mentally planning out a schedule in his head, plotting out weekend getaways and week-long trips just to spend time with you again.

“You won’t have your own room though, sorry,” You sigh in fake concern.

“I think we can make that work,” He assured you with a smile.

“I still can’t believe you bought a fucking plane ticket to get past security to come find me. You’re insane,” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Your boyfriend is insane,” He stresses the term, “and it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let you get away like that.”

You both talk for a while, just drinking in each other’s presence as a new couple. While you’re recounting your metal detector encounters, it hits him that he doesn’t know when he’ll see you again.

Everything keeps getting busier between the two of you, and the possible timeframe of him moving seems further and further away with each passing moment.

He desperately wants to slow everything down in his career immediately, for all of his responsibilities to be taken care of for him.

The boarding process begins and he’s wistful, he didn’t think it would hurt so deeply to let you go home. He pulls you into a tight hug, his head nestled into the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, baby,” His voice wavers.

“Don’t fucking cry, you’ll make me cry,” You whisper, curling into his body even further. It makes him smile despite the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? I promise,” He attempts to steady his voice, but it’s no use. The moment he has the love of his life, you’re already leaving.

You lean back and press your lips to his, you move as quickly as time permits. It’s not the kiss he wants, but it’s enough to sate him.

He pulls away first, kissing your cheek before standing back to get a good look at you.

“Now go, they’re about to finish up your section,” He pointed to the gate with a watery laugh, finally wiping his cheeks from the tears.

You wave one last time as your ticket gets scanned and you’re no longer in view.

He’s not ready to go back to an empty house, one without you sitting on the couch bundled up in his blankets, staring at your computer with squinted eyes. He’s not ready to fall asleep without you next to him and wake up the next day knowing you wouldn’t be up until midday.

You’ve worked your way into his life and he can’t picture another second without you in it.

He decides that whenever you’re available to talk on the phone, you would plan his first visit.

That was the only way he could cope with the time and distance that seemed impossible to cross.

—

The Joshua profile is edited and completed in due time, somehow without losing your sanity.

Joshua is always sending you his edits, many of which are rejected the moment he comments them. Yet, you promise him that he can have input on another piece.

Once it’s approved through final edits, the profile is received well, all things considered. While there are unavoidable critiques, it still resonates with fans and writers alike. It goes considerably less viral than your other content with him, but viral nonetheless. It gets another boost in attention when Joshua reveals your relationship to the public exactly two months after it’s posted, and people are now re-examining the profile for signs of love blooming in between the lines.

These recent post-profile interviews he did were keeping you company during your downtime after work. You’d find yourself watching them on your laptop in bed, craving the sound of his voice when he was caught up in practice. He told you to watch this one specifically when it was uploaded though, so you decided to listen to him.

“So we have to talk about your relationship and the article,” The late night host segues into the new topic and Joshua handles it with ease.

“Of course,” He’s nodding along.

“So you fall in love with one of your biggest fans and do this reunion interview after 10 years? What’s the whole story?”

“Well, she’s been a fan of mine for my entire career and we first met when she made this viral blog post about me qualifying for my first Olympics,” He recounts the story for what feels like the millionth time, but you still eat it up every time. He has an exact script that you can almost know how he’ll phrase it.

“We film an interview and that goes even more viral, like 20 million views or something crazy,” He stops to laugh for a moment and the audience laughs along with him.

“We met up a few times over the years, but I finally suggested we do something for the 10 year anniversary of the interview. That’s how it all came together,” He nods with a grin.

“That’s amazing, is there anything you want to tell her?”

He looks directly into the camera and takes a breath. “Just that I miss you and love you very much,” His voice softens and the audience lights up with applause. He blows a kiss to the camera before the host switches topics once again, moving on to more Olympics talk for the rest of the video.

The declaration of love is simple, he’s not the kind of guy to make these big sweeping gestures of love, but it’s more than enough for you. You send him a quick text approving of the video and your heart is extremely full.

He moves in right after the Olympics end, but he’ll have a chance to properly decompress from the competition. The anticipation is enough to almost drive you insane, but the wait will be worth it.

—

The Olympics are a complete blur, as expected. You try to enjoy other events during your time there, but the men’s individual skate is the only thing on your mind. Joshua tried to make things for you as comfortable as possible despite living in the designated Olympic Village. He always complained that he wasn’t able to see you by sending you lots of heartfelt texts, but you teased him that he just needed to focus on competition.

Joshua won the gold medal, as expected by numerous sports networks and prediction experts.

You knew he’d win too, obviously.

Although he performed last in the final group, moving his rank down to 5th before his free skate performance, his final showing put him 10 full points above 2nd place.

Your boyfriend, who has been swept up in podium ceremonies, post-skate interviews, and a celebratory dinner is finally alone with you in your hotel room and you intend to make the most of it.

“Congratulations,” You’re practically yelling in his ear as he smothers you in a hug, clutching the back of your head. He’s free of the costume and makeup from earlier in the night, even his team tracksuit was exchanged for an old shirt and shorts.

“Thank you, baby,” His response is muffled against your shirt. You pull away to admire his face for a moment before leaning in for a deep kiss.

He’s feeling just as desperate as you are, swiping his tongue into your mouth with ease. It’s been so long since you’ve had a chance to just kiss him, let alone see him for more than a few minutes at a time. There were still press circuits and endless events for him to attend, but for a moment he was simply your gold medalist.

You barely come up for air for the next few minutes, getting all of the long distance reunion induced kisses out of your system. You step away to breathe against his neck and collect your thoughts.

“I’m so proud of you, like I was fully sobbing in my seat after the scores.”

“You were?” He questions, eyes widening.

“Of course, you’ve worked so hard to get here after everything. It makes me wanna cry all over again,” You’re so fond that it makes your heart swell for him.

“My poor baby, crying her eyes out over me like the good old days,” He coos.

“Yeah,” You let out a shaky laugh and wiped a stray tear from your eye. There were no ways to describe how it felt to watch the love of your life succeed from so many points of view, in some ways your relationship is a time capsule of your adolescence.

Joshua is simultaneously the object of your youth and the promise of a better future.

The journey is never lost on you, all of the time spent learning each other all over again reinvigorated your spirit.

“I’m ready to go home with you, I’m just so tired,” He whispers. The collective stress of the past few years is catching up with him now that the hardest part is over, that sense of normalcy needed to come sooner rather than later.

“I know, love. Just a few more days and we can sleep in as much as we want,” You think out loud, but he seems to like the idea as you cup his face in your hands. The tension melts from his face the longer you stay still and he lets out a quiet hum.

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” You would’ve wanted to do it anyway, but you couldn’t say no to him in this state.

Once you both crawled onto the bed, he naturally put his head on your chest. It doesn’t take long before you’ve both fully relaxed into each other’s touch. The silence is needed after nonstop stimulation from the outside world.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He doesn’t hesitate this time, it's saturated with adoration for you. You feel the warmth on your cheeks and respond accordingly.

“I love you too.”

He sits up, staring at you with so much love in his eyes. He kisses you just to do it, but it’s perfectly fine by you.

You swear that you could live in this moment forever. There would always be deadlines approaching, endless amounts of work waiting for you, but these moments were too precious to take for granted.

There’s so much love for him in your body that it doesn’t know where to go, but you figure that you’ll find somewhere to place it within due time.

There’s no use in grieving wasted time when his love is nestled so neatly in your heart, allowing you to indulge in the infinite futures you’re able to build together.

He’s not going anywhere, there’s still time.

There will always be time.

#YALLLLLLL ITS DONEEEEEEE #I’m so fucking happy you have no idea #this is quite literally a novel so sorry lol #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua scenarios #joshua angst #joshua fic #svt fluff #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen smut

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weemssapphic · 9 months

Note

can I request a Larissa/r where Marilyn is r's best friend and larissa thinks they're dating and gets a biiiit jealous. then later, r gets to show her just how much they actually love her :)

hello :) you absolutely can! I loved this idea and loved writing it, I had so much fun brainstorming for it. I was debating adding smut to it but it just didn't feel natural and I liked it better this way, I hope that's okay <3

special thanks to @eveymay for the song rec later in this fic <3

so pull me tight and close your eyes

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~4.5k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: jealous Larissa, hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff, slow dancing

Larissa strides into the teacher’s lounge, closing the door gently behind her. She looks stunning, as usual, her red lips curling into a warm smile as her eyes meet yours - your mouth goes dry. Marilyn is speaking to you but you aren’t listening, her words fading into the background as you return Larissa’s smile, then quickly avert your gaze in a vain attempt to conceal the faint blush that is creeping up your cheeks.

You try to tune back into Marilyn’s monologue - she somehow hasn’t noticed that you’ve gotten distracted and you almost feel bad, given how enthusiastically she’s talking. You start to nod along as she clues you into her Rave’N planning, trying not to stare at Larissa as she passes by you.

“So, you’re chaperoning, right?” Marilyn places her hands on your thighs and leans towards you, pouting and batting her eyelashes. “Please say yes, no one wants to chaperone this year.”

“Yeah, of course I will.” You roll your eyes and grin, laughing at your best friend’s antics - she smiles victoriously, as if she didn’t already know you’d say yes.

Then she leans even closer and lowers her voice conspiratorially: “Have you thought about taking a date?”

“What?” You shake your head, giggling - Marilyn knows you better than anyone, and she knows you’ve been hopelessly single for years now. “You know I’m not seeing anyone. Who would I even take?”

Marilyn soaks in your puzzled expression and chuckles. “You know.” She raises an eyebrow and glances over towards the coffee machine with a smirk on her face. You follow her gaze and your blush immediately returns - Larissa’s back is to you as she waits for her coffee to brew.

“Marilyn…” you whine quietly. “I don’t - I’m not…” You sigh, sucking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth. “Fine, yes, I like her. Happy? But I can’t ask my boss out. What if she says no?”

The redhead chuckles. “There’s no way she’d say no. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when your back is turned. She has the same yearning written all over her face that you do.”

“Does not.” You pout, but your heart is beginning to pound in your chest - could Larissa really like you back? You’ve been pining over her since you started at Nevermore over a year ago, surely you would’ve noticed…

“Does too,” Marilyn teases. “At least ask her to dance with you or something.”

Your eyes widen in fear. “Oh God, Marilyn, I can’t ask her to dance with me. I don’t even know how to dance. You know how clumsy I am - what if I trip her? She’ll hate me if I make her faceplant in front of the entire school.” Complete and utter mortification rises up within you at the mere thought.

“Relax. Deep breaths.” Marilyn grips your shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze. She grins brightly. “I can teach you.”

“I-I don’t know…” Your attention is stolen by a certain towering blonde who walks past you towards the door of the teacher’s lounge, coffee mug in hand. She doesn’t spare you another glance this time, and your heart sinks a bit - you can’t believe your crush has gotten so strong that this makes you sad. You turn back to Marilyn with a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

She squeals in delight. “Perfect! How about we meet in Mr. Browning’s old classroom tomorrow at 7? No one’s using it right now so we can clear aside all the desks.”

You nod and give her a hesitant smile - you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to, but you hope it will help you win Larissa over (and save the both of you from the embarrassment of your own clumsiness).

~~~

Larissa had decided to take a trip to the teacher’s lounge during her midday break. She has an espresso machine in her quarters, attached to her office - it’s way more convenient and much quicker than getting coffee in the lounge. But sometimes she finds herself enjoying a bit of socializing with her beloved staff - and sometimes you’re there, and she would never pass up an opportunity to see you. Perhaps one day she’ll even gather up the courage to ask you out, but for now she’s contented herself with stealing glances at you, her heart skipping a beat when you catch her looking and beam back at her.

She spots you as soon as she opens the door - you glance up at her from your seat at a table in the center of the room and smile, and it’s like Larissa’s world has stopped spinning for a moment as butterflies begin to flutter madly about in her stomach. Then you look away, at Marilyn who is talking animatedly, and the butterflies turn into a strange, nagging feeling - Larissa realizes she’s been staring for far too long and strides over to the coffee machine.

The din in the teacher’s lounge is too loud for her to eavesdrop on your conversation, no matter how hard she tries - she sighs in defeat, resigning herself to watching you out of the corner of her eye when she’s sure you aren’t looking.

Coffee is dripping slowly into her mug and Larissa glances over at you once again. Marilyn’s hands are on your thighs, high enough for Larissa to quirk an eyebrow and purse her lips. Then Marilyn leans in as if she’s about to kiss you - Larissa feels her blood begin to boil. She has half a mind to tell the two of you (mostly Marilyn) off for PDA in the workplace, but she manages to reign in her emotions and restrain herself. Her gaze drops to her coffee mug - it’s full now. There’s a hollow pit in her stomach - she tries to convince herself it’s due to how unprofessional Marilyn is acting, but she knows it’s because she wishes that were her instead - her hands creeping up your thighs, her lips inches away from yours.

She lifts her mug in a white-knuckled grip and makes her way back to the door. Coming here was a bad idea - she should have stayed in her office. It takes all her strength, but she doesn’t spare you another glance. If she did, she might have shot daggers through Marilyn’s head with her eyes - but she must remain professional.

If there’s one thing Larissa Weems is good at, it’s distracting herself: she throws herself into her work for the rest of the day, and the next, keeping her mind busy with emails and phone calls and meetings. After all, it’s just a silly crush, and she will not let this affect her work - Larissa has a school to run, after all.

The following evening, Larissa is heading back to her office after a last minute trip to the Mayor’s office when she hears noises from Mr. Browning’s old classroom. She stops in her tracks and furrows her brows - no one should be in there. The only people who have a master key are herself, the janitor, and… Marilyn. She’d given Marilyn a key to make her preparations for this year’s Rave’N a bit less complicated.

Larissa growls in frustration and steps up to the door, ready to rip Marilyn a new one. She stops with her hand on the handle, asking herself where this sudden aggression came from, and she feels a little guilty when her mind drifts to you. You probably wouldn’t be happy with her if your girlfriend were to be reprimanded.

Deep breaths, Larissa reminds herself - she isn’t even sure if Marilyn really is your girlfriend. The possibility, however, brings a fresh wave of anger out in Larissa and curiosity gets the better of her as she peers through the little window in the door.

What she sees confirms her worst fears, and her stomach drops. Soft music is playing from a phone on the teacher’s desk, all of the tables and chairs are pushed to the far side of the room. Marilyn is standing at the center of the classroom - you’re there beside her. Or, to be more precise, you’re pressed against her, your arms around her neck as she guides you through the room by your hips, dancing to the tune of the song that's playing.

Larissa can’t see your face but she can hear your laughter - oh, how that sound is music to her ears - and she flinches away from the door as if burned. It’s only a matter of seconds before she finds herself storming off, rushing through the halls of Nevermore until she’s reached the sanctuary that is her office, banging and locking the door behind her. She leans back against the door, slamming her head back against it as she rapidly blinks away tears. She feels ridiculous and stupid.

Who cares if her stupid crush has a stupid girlfriend. Only, she cares - a lot more than she’d like to admit.

~~~

“Okay, let’s set the scene,” Marilyn says, after you’ve spent the past ten minutes heaving desks out of the way to create a makeshift dance floor. You roll your eyes as she starts to play Adele through her phone’s speakers.

“How romantic,” you mumble, and your best friend smirks at you.

“Get over here,” she coos teasingly, opening her arms. You step forward and she pulls you in, settling her hands on your waist. Your arms dangle awkwardly at your sides and Marilyn huffs.

“Are you just going to limply hang there in Larissa’s arms?”

“Yes,” you deadpan - now it’s Marilyn’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Now hold me like you mean it. Hold me like I’m the 6’3 blonde principal of your wet dreams.”

Your mouth drops open and you smack Marilyn on the arm, causing her to laugh.

“Please? At least try to take this seriously. I thought you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Larissa. It’s a Friday night - I could be back in my quarters watching reruns of The Bachelorette.”

You giggle - then you sigh. She has a point. “No, I don’t. You’re right. Sorry.” Lifting your arms, you dangle them awkwardly over Marilyn’s shoulders, and she starts to sway with you.

“Wait-” you stutter out, and Marilyn gives you a confused look. “What if I can’t even reach around Larissa’s neck?”

Your eyes are wide and Marilyn’s shoulders begin to shake with laughter - you can’t help but laugh at yourself.

“There are different ways you can hold each other. We’ll practice them, okay?”

You nod, relieved. Marilyn always knows how to set your mind at ease - it’s one of the reasons you’ve become so close. You find yourself relaxing in her arms, closing your eyes as you picture that it’s Larissa whose body you’re pressed against. It’s a difficult feat - at 5’1, Marilyn isn’t exactly a body double for the principal. But you’ve always had an overactive imagination and you allow yourself to get carried away, picturing Larissa’s hands on your waist, her lips inching towards yours, her breath fanning across your face-

A shriek is pulled from your throat as your foot bumps into Marilyn’s and the two of you topple over. You try to catch yourself but fail, managing to pull her down with you in the process.

Marilyn lands on top of you, briefly knocking the wind from your lungs.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

The redhead looks at you for a moment, shocked, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Try not to do that with Larissa, her center of gravity is too high to fall as gracefully as I can.” She nudges you playfully as your cheeks burn, helping you up and paying your embarrassment no mind as she skips the next song and her hands land on your waist once again.

You continue your dance lessons at least three times a week in the evenings over the course of the month leading up to the Rave’N, squeezing in some last minute weekend sessions as the big night draws nearer. You switch up who is leading until you feel comfortable taking the lead, something you hoped you’d be able to do with Larissa.

And your dancing gets better - it really does. But something nags at the pit of your stomach - Larissa’s behavior towards you has taken a turn for the worse in those weeks. She’s been acting strange around you, and pretty much everyone else as well. Where she used to be a frequent guest in the teacher’s lounge, she now rarely shows her face anymore. She pointedly avoids making eye contact with you in staff meetings (she used to shoot you little looks every now and then, looks that you’re starting to miss), and it seems she has a newfound agenda against Marilyn, grilling her on any subject she can possibly conjure up.

Even her usually radiant smiles seem to have been reduced to forced grimaces as of late. You try to chalk up her change in demeanor to the pressure that Nevermore is under to get more funding from the Mayor, but you can’t help worrying that something is really wrong.

It makes you even more determined to ask her to dance at the Rave’N, if only to see one of those beautiful smiles you’ve been missing. Maybe she does like you, maybe she doesn’t, but it would be worth it to make her happy, even for a few minutes. It has to work.

~~~

The Rave’N is tomorrow and Larissa has half a mind not to go - if she sees you wrapped in Marilyn’s arms again, dancing the night away, she might scream and lose the last ounce of professionalism in her body. The whole situation reminds her far too much of watching Morticia get swept across the dancefloor by Gomez some 20 years ago. That rejection still stings, even all these years later, and Larissa isn’t sure she could live through the same scenario twice. Her heart, and her pride, really took a hit the first time - this time, however, it would be nothing short of devastating.

You’ve used the empty classroom several times a week this past month - every few days, Larissa passes it on the way to her office and hears music and laughter seeping through the crack underneath the door.

Although it irks Larissa, she can’t come up with a reason to barge in and tell you off - you aren’t technically breaking any rules, though Marilyn is using her key for reasons other than those she’d specified. Still, imagining the anger that would surely be written across your face if Larissa interrupted your little rendezvous - anger that would be directed at Larissa herself - breaks her heart, and she can’t bring herself to do it.

Jealous. Larissa admits it to herself - she feels jealous. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time, not since she’d seen the engagement ring glimmering on Morticia’s ring finger, coupled with her beaming grin and Gomez’s own smug smile. But she feels it now, when she sees the ease with which you and Marilyn talk and laugh and dance. Larissa has always been too shy to make a move, too unsure of your feelings to act upon her own - and now it seems she’s too late.

But not going to the Rave’N isn’t an option - not as principal, when her presence (or rather, the lack thereof) would be questioned. She’ll simply have to plaster on a fake smile (it’s not like she hasn’t been able to practice those these past few weeks) and pretend everything is okay - and maybe she can sneak out when the obligatory slow dance song comes on, so that she won’t have to witness you dancing arm in arm with Marilyn, in front of the entire school.

~~~

The Rave’N is in full swing, the music booming in your ears - your nerves are beginning to rise. Sure, the dance lessons have gone well, but you can’t help but worry you’ll forget everything Marilyn taught you the second you look up into Larissa’s gorgeous, piercing blue eyes. That is, if she even agrees to dance with you - you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

Larissa looks stunning tonight - she’s always beautiful, but tonight she’s practically glowing. She’s changed the way she does her updo a bit - there are more curls piled up high on her head, it’s even more intricate than you’ve ever seen it before. Her dress is modest but it hugs her curves in all the right places - it suits her. Fuck, you’ve really got it bad, you think, unable to take your eyes off her.

When you first arrived, she was greeting the students - you’d given her a bashful smile and thought you could see a hint of a blush adorn her cheeks when she returned the smile. Her smile appeared to be genuine, and your heart did a somersault in your chest.

Now that most people seem to have arrived, she’s moved to the buffet table, keeping a watchful eye over the students. She seems content, though she doesn’t really have anyone to keep her company - the thought of her feeling lonely as students dance and the rest of the chaperones gather in smaller groups at the other end of the dance floor makes your heart ache. You want to reach out to her - you find yourself praying to any deity that is willing to listen that she wants that, too.

Marilyn sidles up next to you, but you begin to ramble before she can even open her mouth. “Oh god, are you sure about this? What if she says no? What if she says yes? What if I trip and fall and take her down with me and-”

“Stop!” She raises an eyebrow at you, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. Larissa looks over in that moment, smiling again as your eyes meet - her smile falters, however, and she quickly looks away.

“We’ve been over this. Larissa definitely likes you. And you’ve gotten so good. You haven’t tripped and taken me down with you the last couple times.” She shoots you an overexaggerated wink and you roll your eyes, playfully bumping her shoulder. “You got this! Now go, before the Rave’N ends and I realize I’ve wasted all my afternoons for the better part of a semester for nothing.”

You take a deep breath and nod, turning towards the punch bowl where you last saw Larissa - only to see she’s left it unmanned, no tall principal in sight. A flash of platinum blonde at the far end of the room catches your eye, and you see Larissa’s form disappear into the hallway.

Your brow furrows as you push past a group of students at the edge of the dancefloor, throwing them an absent-minded smile as they watch you with confusion. You pick up your pace, almost chasing after Larissa, hoping she hasn’t disappeared on you completely.

As you exit into the hallway, your shoulders relax a bit when you see Larissa slumped against the wall just down the hall. With every step you take, however, the tension builds again - Larissa’s head is resting back against the wall, her eyes are closed, a deep frown adorns her face. Your footsteps echo in the hallway and she turns to face you. As soon as you make eye contact, she pushes herself off the wall, smoothing her dress and plastering a smile on her face - one that very clearly does not reach her eyes.

“What can I do for you?” she asks - her voice trembles just a bit. She peels off her gloves and runs a hand over her hair, smoothing it down - you’re caught off guard by the motion, briefly transfixed by the sight of her bare hands.

“I…” your voice trails off and you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. Should you make up some excuse? Or should you just come clean? Seeing the wariness in her eyes, however, makes you realize you can’t possibly lie to her. “I wanted to ask you something but I saw you leave. Is everything alright?”

Another forced smile. “Everything is fine, I just needed a little fresh air. You know how awfully stuffy it can get in there with no windows to open.”

“And how’s the air out here?” you tease, knowing that the hallway is just as stuffy. You try to keep your voice light, and it almost works - the ghost of a genuine smile passes across Larissa’s face.

“Just as stuffy,” she confirms, her lips curling upwards in spite of herself.

You hold her gaze for a moment. You’d been so set on asking her to dance - it’s what you’d been hyping yourself up for for weeks now. But right now, Larissa just looks tired. She looks like she needs to talk - maybe your plan would have to wait.

“Maybe you’d care to join me for a walk?” you ask hopefully, extending a hand towards her. She looks from your face to your hand with a bewildered expression, hesitantly taking a step forward and placing her hand in your own. Your heart begins to beat like crazy - her hand is cool to the touch, her skin so incredibly soft. It is a bit larger than your own, and she is careful to keep her grip light as her long fingers curl around yours.

“Sorry if my hand is a bit cold, it always is,” she mutters - you wave away her concern and give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tease, regretting the words as soon as they come out of your mouth. You blush and keep your gaze in front of you as you walk with Larissa towards the west entrance of the school. She says nothing, but she holds onto your hand the entire time.

The night air is cool as it washes over you, and you hum. You make no move to disentangle your hand from Larissa’s, and neither does she - the two of you walk in silence towards the lake. You’re so close to her that your shoulder brushes against her arm as you walk - her perfume, sweet and floral, wafts towards you on a breeze. It’s your favorite scent in the world - it makes you dizzy.

“Why are we out here?” Larissa asks as she comes to an abrupt halt. Your stomach lurches.

“We’re getting fresh air?” you whisper, suddenly feeling unsure of yourself.

Larissa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand as deep frown lines mar her features. “No, I know that. What I mean is…” She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours but apparently coming up blank. “Won’t Marilyn mind?”

You snort, then cover your mouth in horror at the sound you’ve made, your eyes wide. The crease between Larissa’s eyebrows deepens. “Why would Marilyn mind? What’s she got to do with anything?” Why would Larissa bring up Marilyn? Why should Marilyn care what you’re doing? If anything, she’d be cheering you on…

“I-I thought…” Larissa starts, looking uncharacteristically insecure. “I just don’t think your girlfriend would like you holding my hand,” she whispers. Your eyes grow even wider.

“My what?” You don’t understand - you don’t have a gi- Oh.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” you say slowly. “Marilyn is one of my best friends, I couldn’t dream of dating her.”

“I’m sorry.” Larissa looks mortified, her face turning beet red as she raises her hand to cover her mouth. “I-I just assumed, when I saw the two of you slow dancing together, I-”

“Wait, when did you- never mind, it doesn’t matter. Larissa, listen to me,” you cut her off as understanding washes over you. “Marilyn was just teaching me how to dance.”

“Oh.” Larissa pauses, bringing a hand up to her neck to play nervously with her necklace. “May I ask why?” Her voice trembles slightly even as she attempts to compose herself - your heart begins to pound erratically against your ribcage.

“So that I won’t make a complete fool of myself when I ask you if you’d like to dance with me tonight.” You bite your lip, blushing and looking up at Larissa, whose face is unreadable for a moment.

“You want to dance with me?” She sounds slightly breathless and her cheeks are flushed - it gives you the final shot of confidence you need.

“Yes, Larissa, I would be honored to dance with you.” Raising her hand to your mouth, you press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers. Her cheeks glow pink and her pupils widen a fraction as her lips curl into a shy smile.

Then her eyes dim a bit and she looks up at Nevermore, biting her lip. “I would love to but I’m afraid the dance will be over soon.” She sounds sad and it breaks your heart - you fumble around in your pocket for your phone, Larissa’s eyes curiously tracking your every move.

“My dress has pockets, isn’t it cool?” you comment, grinning as you open Spotify and start to scroll with your thumb.

“Yes, that’s very cool, darling,” she replies with a chuckle.

The song “this is how you fall in love” by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler starts to play out of your phone’s speaker - you turn up the volume and slide your phone back into your pocket so that the speaker is sticking out slightly.

“Larissa Weems,” you start, taking a step back and gazing up into her eyes, which sparkle with childlike wonder. “May I have this dance with you?”

The smile you receive in return is blinding. “It would be my honor,” she purrs, and you waste no time in resting your hands on her waist, tugging gently to pull her flush against you. Larissa winds her arms around your neck, smiling down at you as you begin to sway to the beat of the music.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” you whisper, reveling in the way Larissa blushes and looks away, flustered.

“Thank you, darling. You look beautiful yourself,” she whispers back, ducking her head so that your faces are mere inches apart.

Your eyes drop down to those plush red lips, just in time to see the tip of Larissa’s pink tongue dart out to wet her lips.

“May I kiss you?” You have trouble getting the words out as you stare at her lips, as if in a trance. They quirk up at the outer corners and form the word “please” - you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers. They are incredibly soft, but a little cold - Larissa makes up for the fact by quickly parting them, inviting you to explore the warmth of her mouth with your tongue.

The two of you moan in tandem as your tongues meet and you press yourself even closer to Larissa, getting lost in the kiss, the song, the dancing. You’re overwhelmed with feelings - excitement, contentment, adoration, lust, love. One feeling overwhelms them all, however - the feeling of finally finding your home.

Larissa feels the same way - she smiles into the kiss as it deepens. She’ll have to send an apology to Marilyn for all those dirty looks, though - but for now, she doesn’t care. For now, all that matters are your hands caressing her waist and your tongue flicking against hers. For now, all that matters is you.

This is how you fall in love Let go and I'll hold you up So pull me tight and close your eyes Oh, my love, side to side

Marilyn wonders where you and Larissa have gone off to, and if all has gone well. The following day, Marilyn’s questions are answered in the form of a huge bouquet of flowers on her desk, with a note that simply reads: Thank you. I’m sorry. Larissa

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#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems #principal weems x reader

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Summary: A quiet night in with Jihoon is the perfect excuse to reminisce on the evolution of your relationship with him. It evolves a bit more when he wakes to find you trying on one of the paper rings he's been leaving all over the house.

Word Count: ~4000

Content Notes: this is not smut ! this is just fluff ! very happy and probably tooth-rottingly sweet !!

Warnings: lil bit of weed; mentions of drinking; mentions of eating; cramps mention (not specified as menstrual so even if u don't menstruate you should be good to go), mentions of having kids but its even smaller a blip than the drugs; he lifts reader up (lbr this man is massive and i believe that if he couldn't lift you he'd just work out till he could), i mention his body a lot bc im obsessed with it what can i say, he's asleep for like half of it sorry, a bit of crying but not as much as in bartender!seungkwan pt 2

tagging: @confusedbansheee @lenireads @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx

“Sleepy?” Jihoon asks from bed with a soft voice, face nearly expressionless, but you can see the love in his eyes, like always. You’ve gotten good at reading Jihoon over the two years you’ve been together but the man doesn’t always offer up his emotions freely. In his music, sure, but in life? Unless he’s laughing, it can be hard to tell how exactly he’s feeling. If you ask, the answer will usually be hungry, or most often, tired.

Jihoon is always tired, working long hours in the studio as a producer and even longer hours at home as a songwriter. You can always hear him singing in the spare bedroom turned home studio, and every time one of his songs comes out, you wish it was his voice instead. He sings for you, sometimes, when you can’t sleep. Most of the time, he sings when he thinks you’re already asleep (he doesn’t need to know you're faking and you don’t need to know he knows you’re faking).

You realize you’ve forgotten to respond to him and nod with a gentle smile, bending down for a kiss which he returns contentedly. He’s used to it, knows you drift off sometimes, especially when he sparks a thought in you.

You’re still thinking as you crawl into bed beside him, leaning in for one more kiss before nuzzling your head into his shoulder.

You have a lot of thoughts about him, at all times.

You didn’t last long as friends, maybe two or three months, because your traitorous brain just wouldn’t shut up about him.

His friends had been high the night you met, bragging to you about what a star Jihoon was and trying to get you to date him. Jihoon, meanwhile, looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, especially when the platinum blonde one (whom you now know as Soonyoung) held his hand up and curled his fingers at you, hissing, “Tiger’s gaze!” and then stared at you with narrowed eyes for approximately 45 seconds.

It only got worse when his other friend (sweet, kind, loud Seokmin) started singing something from King Arthur at the top of his lungs; his voice would have been beautiful if it wasn’t directly in your ear and echoing off the empty streets.

Jihoon did his best to wrangle them, apologizing sincerely before dragging them away and shooting one last pinched smile over his shoulder at you.

You’ve never told him but that night, you went home and googled the fuck out of him. You’d tried every combination of Jihoon and producer and music and songwriting you could think of, throwing in other random words just in case they worked. Nothing did and you fell asleep that night frustrated, and no more informed than you were when you started.

Now obviously, you know you didn’t find anything because he produced under a pseudonym.

Your eyes wander over the shelf of awards, all won by Woozi or Universe Factory. Jihoon had been reluctant to put them up, being the humble man he is, but you wanted to celebrate him. You wanted him to look at them and feel proud. And then look at you and feel supported. He may not say it but you know he does.

You can feel Jihoon’s breath even out and look up at him to find his heavy eyelids closed and his lips open just a bit. His throat will be sore tomorrow if he sleeps with his mouth open like that, and he won’t absentmindedly hum around the house if it is, so you hold your breath and carefully push his chin up with one finger to close it. You wait, just to make sure you haven’t woken him, and thank your lucky stars he’s a heavy sleeper.

Now that you know he’s sleeping and won’t perceive you (as he so often does), you let your mind wander.

You think about how you’d run into him again, on that same street, with the same friends, just a few weeks after the first time. You’d pretended you didn’t remember him, or that night.

Even then he knew you were lying. Jihoon’s always been able to see right through you, down to the insecure and messy parts you try to hide.

He let it slide though, let you pretend, knowing somehow you needed to protect yourself just a little bit longer. Soonyoung and Seokmin (they repeated their names to you what felt like a hundred times) somewhat desperately attempted to convince you to join them on their night out.

Jihoon had tried to free you, give you an out by saying that you were probably busy and had plans of your own, his eyes boring into you to make sure you knew what he was doing.

You only needed a few seconds to decide you didn’t want to be free.

So you joined them, and learned you shared mutual friends, and suddenly two friend groups became one, and then you were seeing him every weekend. You always thought you could feel Jihoon’s eyes on you, but when you’d look over he’d be in a seemingly deep conversation with someone else, usually Jun.

Jun was one of the friends you had in common, you’d met him at work and Jihoon had known him since middle school, and he was perhaps too delighted when your friend groups merged.

You honestly couldn’t tell if Jihoon even liked you as a person until your friends insisted on swimming in Jun’s apartment complex’s pool. It was freezing out, halfway through November and mid cold-front, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was jump in a cold ass pool.

Everyone else had gone in, everyone but you and Jihoon. Your friends had tried to goad you for a bit but eventually gave up and started trying to drown each other, as boys do.

You’re sure Jihoon could tell that you did want to get in, but you didn’t want the teasing or punishing splashes that were sure to follow, because he came and sat next to you on the lounger, and said quietly, “what if I go in first?”

With wide eyes, you’d turned to him, shocked that A) he was talking to you unprompted, and B) that he was offering to get in the pool at all. He’d been adamant he didn’t want to get his clothes wet, saying that he hadn’t brought anything else to wear, that he hated the way water felt in his slides. Jun had offered a shirt, but you and everyone else knew it wouldn’t fit Jihoon. He was just too big, so very big and dense and muscular and…

You shake your head, reminding yourself that he’s asleep and values his rest and wouldn’t appreciate you awakening him by feeling him up.

Maybe he would though, he always gets the cutest blush whenever you appreciate his body in any way, shape, or form… and his form is so…

No! Jihoon needs his rest, he doesn’t sleep enough and he works too hard for you to wake him up now, even if you desperately want to trace your fingers over his pecs.

Your mind wanders to when you’d accidentally went from friends to more than friends to lovers to partners.

Jihoon wasn’t much of a drinker, and neither were you, so you were often paired up as designated drivers. Neither of you minded, preferring to keep a clear head and make sure your friends didn’t concuss themselves or impregnate anyone, but it meant you spent a lot of time together.

A lot of time together, late into the night, surrounded by drunk people who wouldn’t remember what you said in the morning.

So you and Jihoon entertained yourselves by making fun of your friends’ antics. You shared secret smiles when Seokmin inevitably climbed on a table and started belting out show tunes. You giggled to each other when he launched himself onto Mingyu’s back and declared himself king of the world. You blindly slapped at each other’s arms and stifled smiles when Soonyoung started trying to make out with whoever was closest to him and subsequently got pushed away with a palm to the forehead.

That’s usually when one of you would decide the group had had enough for the night, and worked together to corral everyone into your respective cars. One night though, after assigning seats and buckling everyone in (thank fuck you both drove SUVs), Jihoon gently caught your hand before you opened the driver’s side door and pulled you aside.

He’d looked nervous, which was uncharacteristic of him, and you were instantly worried he was going to tell you he was tired of chaperoning.

Terrified you’d be on your own from now on, left to somehow babysit twelve grown men without Jihoon’s firm, large hand, you twisted your fingers together and stared at him apprehensively.

“Do you think you’d maybe… some time… want to get-” Jihoon pushed out a breath, shaking his head from side to side a little, before continuing.

“Would you wanna get a drink sometime? With… just me? We could leave the kids at home for once.”

A half-smile pulled at his lips, nerves evident only in the bunching of his muscles and the way he couldn’t quite meet your eye.

It had taken everything in you to pretend you didn’t just see a flash of the two of you dropping toddlers off at your mom’s house before running back to the car together and escaping into the sunset.

Jihoon must have taken your wide eyes and silence for a rejection though, because he started backtracking. He didn’t get far before you interrupted him.

“Actually there’s a place nearby where they wander around with various grilled meats on sticks and cut it right there onto your plate. It’s all you can eat. We could go there instead?” You offered hopefully.

Jihoon had looked right at you then, like he was seeing all the way down to your bones and into the annoying, stupid organs they protected (a heart that beat too hard around him, and a brain that he could scramble with a single touch).

But his face was more open than ever, eyes clear and focused on you. It was scary almost, to have all of his attention, all of his concentration, on you like that. Scary until he broke out into a full grin, eyes crinkled and dimples creased in his smile lines.

And that was all it took, just one smile and he’d burrowed his way deeper into the depths of your heart and every groove of your brain, and you knew somehow you’d never be able to disentangle them from him.

Jihoon’s been stuck there ever since, carving out his own space in you with every late night spent cooking together, every early morning spent staring at each other, every long day spent caring for one another.

His care always shows in the little things: in the way he makes two portions when he has to leave early for work so he’s sure you eat breakfast, in the way he noticed that you hate when his toes touch you in bed and started wearing socks without you having to ask, in the way he can always tell when you have cramps and appears every four hours to give you pain meds because you’d forget they exist otherwise.

The longer you’re with him, especially now that you live together, the more sure you are that you want this to be your life, forever.

You’ve already read all of the books on his side of the bed, even though they’re about songwriting and you don’t have a poetic bone in your body. There’s a picture of him on your nightstand, framed carefully, and he’d bemoaned the fact that it was just him and not you together.

But how could you resist? His mouth was open wide, kabobs in each hand, and uninhibited, ravenous joy in his eyes. It’s one of your favorite pictures of him, and you know Jihoon knows it’s because it reminds you of that first date at the Brazilian steakhouse.

You smother a giggle in his shoulder, remembering how Jihoon had invited you back to his place after.

You’d worried things were moving too fast until he turned on a movie and immediately fell asleep, his massive shoulders tipping into you until he was practically in your lap. You hadn’t been able to move for hours, both because you didn’t want to disturb him and because he was just too heavy, and even with dead legs and a screaming bladder, you still wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

You don’t mean to, but sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep, so you just lay on your side and watch his chest rise and fall. It’s soothing to you, the pattern of his breaths and the sound of air moving through his lungs. A reminder that he’s here with you and feels safe with you and loves you (Jihoon can sleep anywhere but he doesn’t like sharing a bed, a fact that changed with you).

This usually happens on rainy days or Mondays or when things feel a bit more complicated than normal.

Being with Jihoon isn’t always easy; it’s not even close to his fault but it can be hard contending with his demanding schedule, and sometimes he pours so much emotion into his music he doesn’t have a whole lot to spare for you. You never doubt that Jihoon loves you, but there are days that he’s a bit closed off, a bit unavailable.

Those are the nights that you stay awake on purpose, just so you can watch him sleep and remind yourself that he wants to be here with you, and that he’s here to stay.

You’re still not sure if Jihoon thinks you haven’t noticed the paper rings he’s been leaving all over the house. He has to have noticed that they disappear though, snatched with delicate fingers and deposited straight into your jewelry box as soon as you find them. You’re too scared to put them on, worried you’ll tear the paper or get them wet or lose them, but you know they’re for you.

He’d told you somewhere near the six month mark that his writing changed when he met you, got deeper, truer, his words finally tied to real experiences, and you’ve listened to every song he’s put out since then.

Same dream, same mind, same night was basically a proposal in itself, even if it was sung by someone else. Last month, he’d led you into his studio, gently pushing you down by the shoulders to sit in his chair before starting the guide track of IF you leave me and immediately running from the room.

You’d emerged fifteen minutes later, your face wet with tears and sobs caught in your throat, walking straight into his arms and staying there for hours.

Your mind lingers on one lyric in Same, same, same.

Promise me eternity, if you feel the same way as I do

You feel the sudden urge to look at the rings, to try one on for once, so you carefully roll out of bed, thanking yourself for not having wormed your way into his arms yet. Shuffling on quiet feet to your dresser, you open your jewelry box, holding your breath and praying it doesn’t creak.

The paper rings are there, as expected, but you notice something new this time.

A metal one, white gold, with a diamond wrapped in delicate golden vines, dotted with tiny gemstones. You look closer, realizing that the gems are his and your birthstones.

Your breath catches in your throat, tears welling up immediately, and you almost curse Jihoon for making you cry so late at night, before you hear rustling behind you and his tired voice.

“Took you long enough, that thing’s been in there for days,” you can hear the smile in his tone, hear the way it forms his words and coats them with love, “didn’t you notice I stopped leaving paper ones for you to find?”

You can hear blankets moving through the roaring in your ears, fingers quivering around the ring until Jihoon reaches around you and takes it from your grasp. He must know you’re frozen, unable to turn around on your own, because he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder and spins you slowly himself.

Your gaze meets his and you’re shocked to see inklings of tears in his eyes, your eyebrows raising and the fondest smile stretching your lips. Jihoon tries to kneel but you follow him, sinking down onto your knees until you’re both sitting on the floor of your bedroom, in the home you share.

He rolls damp, playful eyes at you, and you can only shrug and let your watery smile grow.

Jihoon should know by now that you’ll always follow him.

“I had a plan, if you didn’t find it in the next few days,” Jihoon begins, voice quiet but strong.

“I bought you a music box programmed to play the song I wrote the night I first asked you on a date, one you’ve never heard before, and I was going to have it waiting with all the rings inside when you got home from work.”

You nod, biting your lips into your mouth to stifle the sob, forcing yourself to focus on him even through the fogginess of your tears.

Jihoon just narrows his eyes at you lovingly, a little chuckle escaping under his breath, before shifting to sit with his knees crossed, and pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. His arms wrap around you, cradling you and letting you gather yourself enough to listen to him, and he carries on with his speech.

“You know I like to have control over my life, over who’s in it and what happens and where it goes, but when I met you, I started wondering what could happen if I didn’t control everything. It felt like a sign when I saw you again, and then when we had friends in common, it felt like the pieces could fall into place if I would just let them.”

Jihoon disguises a sniffle in a cough and like the loving, caring person you are, you pretend to be fooled.

“So I tried to let go. I wasn’t successful at first,” you snort, remembering the way he always pretended he hadn’t been looking at you, and he bops you gently on the head with his nose in retribution.

“I wasn’t successful at first,” Jihoon continues pointedly, digging his chin into the top of your head a bit.

“But I got better at it, better at letting go and letting things happen, and being around you got so easy I didn’t even have to try anymore. And then I asked you out for drinks, and I thought you were turning me down but you proposed meat instead, and that’s when I knew,” Jihoon nods with finality, seemingly finished.

“Is that- Are you… done?” You ask, tilting your head to stare at him.

Jihoon stares back, face flat, before he breaks out into laughter, his cackles bouncing off the walls of your bedroom and your heart. You can’t do anything but join him, resting your head on his shoulder and giggling into his neck.

“No, I’m not done. I was pausing for dramatic effect, I thought you’d appreciate it!” He says breathlessly, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, pausing to let his lips rest there a moment.

“That’s when I knew that I was in trouble. That if I got to be with you, got to love you, I’d never want anyone else. But I was ready, I am ready. And if you are too, then,” Jihoon pauses to pull away enough to look at you, voice soft and serious.

“Marry me?” He unwraps one arm from around you and holds out the ring, nestled in his palm and looking so so delicate compared to the size of his hand.

You feel like your throat is closing up, clogged with joy and love and wishes fulfilled. You can only nod, reaching shaking fingers out to Jihoon, watching as he slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It fits perfectly, sparkling even in the moonlight and warm from his skin.

Staring at it on your finger for just a second, you take a deep, steadying breath before tackling Jihoon to the floor and kissing him like your lives depend on it.

He goes willingly, you know because Jihoon’s withstood your attempts to tackle him before, and he lets you kiss all over his face with his eyes scrunched shut and the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear.

You lay there together on the floor, his body cushioning yours from the hardwood and you promising him in your mind to massage away all the aches tomorrow, talking late into the night and falling asleep together, breaths in sync.

You wake up in bed, eyes swollen from crying the night before, and jerk as your phone vibrates again on the nightstand.

Oh, so that’s what woke you up, you think, reaching over to flick the button and silence the buzzing.

Jihoon’s not in bed with you, but you can hear him singing in the kitchen, a song you don’t recognize. Something about being ready and wanting to run away and someone being his escape?

You start to roll out of bed, toes tapping to the beat of his song, but stop when you see your phone light up again. Your eyes grow wide at the amount of notifications, the such a beautiful night groupchat being responsible for all of them.

Rubbing your eyes blearily with the back of your hand, you scroll through the messages, trying to catch up.

You see apple cash being exchanged, demands for pictures, requests for the full story, and know Jihoon must have told the guys.

Some people might be upset that he’d shared the news without asking, but you just smile, because it had been them who brought you together in the first place.

It was Soonyoung who growled at you when you were passing him in the street, forcing Jihoon to grab him by the arm and apologize profusely to you.

It was Jun who called the night you first agreed to hang out with them, who recognized your voice and shouted at Jihoon until he passed the phone to you.

It was Seungcheol who begged you both to be designated drivers, desperate to the point of offering the two of you gas money and his firstborn child.

It was Seokmin who broke out into love songs every time you and Jihoon so much as glanced in each other’s direction, and Mingyu who carried him away before either of you got too embarrassed and annoyed to even look at one another.

Memories flicker through your brain like vintage film, your mind recalling moments you and Jihoon shared with each and every one of the guys.

Moments that led you to each other, brought you closer together, allowed this love to grow.

Facilitated it, even.

You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Jihoon coming in until he scoops you up into his arms bridal style and hauls you into the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and placing a plate of steaming scrambled egg mess on your lap and a fork in your hand.

You reel a bit, trying to catch up to the abrupt location change, and ask Jihoon, “what was that for?”

Jihoon smiles at you, dimples on full display and cheeks pushed up high, and says, “Practice.”

AN: so if y'all couldn't tell by my blog, woozi is my ult and i fear i may be straight up in love with him, evidenced by this fic. i made myself cry with this one and you're legally obligated to tell me if it made you cry too!

this is the pic reader has framed

:'-)

Ps do u guys know what I’m talking about when I said his exhale head shake thing bc I love when he does that and if u dont know I will find it and gif it and reblog it onto the post

Part Two

#seventeen fluff #svt fluff #ljh x reader #lee jihoon fluff #lee jihoon x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #woozi x you #jihoon x you #jihoon x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt x you #kpop fluff #✨emily writes✨

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kitten4sannie · 2 years

Text

ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛ

Boyfriend! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader

Genre: smut, some tooth-rotting fluff at the end, idol! au

Summary: What happens when you distract Hongjoong from his work? He loses his temper, obviously. Good thing that’s exactly what you were hoping for 🖤

W.C: 3.9k

Warnings: established relationship, dom! Hongjoong, sub! reader, Hongjoong is ruthless, filthy dialogue (when i say filthy i mean FILTHY), frequent use of the word “Daddy”, it’s givinggg ddlg, brat taming, name calling, degradation, hair pulling, slapping, spit play, pussy slapping, sex toy usage, orgasm denial, squirting, fingering, spanking, sorta passionate sorta rough (unprotected) sex, very brief cockwarming

Author's Note: This is a very self-indulgent one, but so are the other ones that I've written ajskdhkds. I hope you enjoy 🖤

Song Recs: Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood (this song is perfection point blank period), The Beach also by The Neighbourhood

➽───────────────❥

You sat beside your boyfriend in his recording studio, chewing on your lip and aimlessly looking around to quell your boredom. Hongjoong had been working on a demo for the last thirty minutes, completely engulfed in his own world.

He had promised to spend some time with you earlier that week. Instead, here you were all dolled up for him and he hadn’t even spared you a single glance. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t upset, so you figured you might as well make an attempt to steal back his attention.

This, however, was a pretty risky move. You already knew that Hongjoong hated being interrupted when his creative juices were flowing; in fact, the last time you had done that, your ass was so bruised, that you couldn’t sit down for a week without wanting to cry.

You usually preferred when Hongjoong was his normal, exceptionally sweet self, but the masochist inside you had an affinity for the cruel version of himself that he sometimes revealed to you. Perhaps it was time for him to pay you a visit.

“Daddyyyy….” you whined into his pierced ear, grabbing onto the sleeve of his hoodie and tugging at it. “I’m literally going to die if you don’t give me attention right now…”

Hongjoong stopped moving his computer mouse around, giving you a side eye. You knew better than to start acting like this while he was working, so that alone already began to piss him off.

“Sweetie,” he started, his voice devoid of any warmth. “I told you that I would need an hour to get this done. It’s very important. I know we were supposed to do something together tonight, so I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

You pouted, crossing your arms across your chest and leaning back into the computer chair you were sitting in. “Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched in response to your bratty behavior, eyes scanning you for a minute to see if you were going to pull another stunt. When he saw that you were just sitting there quietly, his attention turned back onto the track he was working on.

Only a few minutes had passed, before you were ready for phase two of Operation: Mean Hongjoong. It was a very simple plan, but it was fool-proof. You could feel more and more butterflies accumulating in your stomach the longer you waited to act on your carnal desires.

Taking in a deep breath, you stood up suddenly and swung one of your legs over Hongjoong’s lower half, before sitting down on his lap. Without another word, you grabbed the computer mouse from his hand and tossed it across the desk where he couldn’t reach it.

“I can’t wait, Daddy. I want your attention now!” you whined, grabbing his shoulders tightly and shaking him a bit.

The almost glazed-over look in Hongjoong’s eyes would’ve scared you if it hadn’t turned you on first. Every time he got like this, it was like you were dealing with an entirely different person. Your precious Joongie was nowhere to be found; in this state, he might as well have been a demon disguised as a human. And this version of himself wanted nothing more than to see you crying and begging for his mercy.

“Daddy, did you hear me? I said I w-”

Your words were quickly cut short when he abruptly grabbed a fistful of your hair, his fingers keeping a tight grip near the base of your scalp. It burned and you loved it. You really were nothing but a slut for the pain he occasionally provided you, but who could blame you? It’s not your fault you had daddy issues.

The rough, yet very precise slap that Hongjoong brought to your cheek pulled you out of your current headspace.

“Ow!” you reacted, looking at him with wide eyes and a pout, feigning innocence.“What was that for, Daddy? You’re so mean…” you murmured, rubbing your cheek, as a way to ease the pain.

Without hesitation, Hongjoong gave you another smack, this time on your other cheek, leaving both sides of your face warm and stinging.

“Don’t play games, brat. You know the rules. It’s time for your punishment.”

You could feel arousal begin to pool inside your core, causing your panties to feel wet and sticky, without any stimulation. You gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes, biting into the skin of your bottom lip.

You were going to enjoy every single second of this.

“Open your mouth,” Hongjoong commanded, as his fierce brown eyes bored into yours, his eyebrows knitting together.

You could almost feel the rage emanating from his body.

Your lips parted obediently, your eyes studying Hongjoong’s beautiful, yet in this moment, harsh features. He was mad, mad. You almost felt guilty for pissing him off so much, but being the brat that you were, you had no regrets whatsoever.

A wad of spit suddenly came flying out of Hongjoong’s mouth and onto your sore cheek, slowly dripping down it. You shuddered, trying to keep yourself from moaning.

“Oops, missed,” he observed dryly, still maintaining an iron grip on your hair. “Stick your tongue out, slut.”

You did so without question, the tip of your tongue resting against the area just below your bottom lip.

“Aaah…”

More spit came shooting out of his mouth, this time landing directly into your own, some hitting the back of your throat.

“Good girl. Now swallow.”

You did, feeling the aching between your legs increase tenfold. Reaching down to ease some of the discomfort, Hongjoong noticed almost immediately and slapped your hand away from yourself.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded, holding out a finger to shake it disapprovingly. “You lost that privilege when you decided to be a distracting little whore who couldn’t wait for an hour for my cock.”

You whimpered at his words, loving the way he talked to you. You wanted more. You needed more. Luckily for you, Hongjoong was just getting started.

He suddenly let go of your hair and picked you up, setting you down on the desk, somewhat forcefully. Hongjoong lifted up your skirt and admired the obvious wet patch that was present on your panties, before giving your pussy a quick, hard slap.

“A-ah!” you gasped, gripping the edge of the desk, feeling the knots in your stomach tighten significantly.

“Be a good girl and sit still while Daddy looks for something.”

He walked over to some bins that were sitting in the corner of the room and started rummaging through one of them.

You sat still just as he asked of you, hands resting obediently in your lap, your pussy throbbing in anticipation of his punishment.

“Here we go. I found just the thing to keep you busy while Daddy finishes his demo.”

Your eyes widened at the toy he held in his hand. It might’ve not looked like much, but you knew better; you were very familiar with this one. It was a simple vibrating bullet, nothing too intimidating about that, but here’s the thing: it had ten different settings of varying vibration power and could be controlled with an app, giving Hongjoong the ability to do whatever he liked. You almost felt dizzy just thinking about how long you were going to have to use it on yourself.

“You remember this one, Y/N? Oh wait, probably not. The only thing occupying that empty head of yours is Daddy’s cock. Am I correct?”

Hongjoong stalked towards you, like a predator would with its prey. His dominating presence, combined with his dark lust-filled eyes never failed to send shivers up your spine.

You nodded your head in agreement, his degrading words hitting in the best way possible. Mean Hongjoong was your absolute favorite, you couldn’t lie. Even Wooyoung was into it, so how could you not be?

Hongjoong pulled out his phone and opened the app, before looking at you with a disconcerting neutral expression. “You’re going to hold this against your clit until it dies or until I'm done, whichever happens sooner. Got it? And you better not cum until I say so, or else.”

“Y-yes, Daddy,” you answered, swallowing nervously.

There was no going back now; you had to take his punishment.

***

“F-ffffuck…! Daddy, please, no more! It’s too much!” you cried out, legs starting to feel like jelly, hot tears already staining your cheeks.

You were sitting on the side of Hongjoong’s desk next to his computer, where there was just enough room for you to have your legs spread open for him. You had no idea how much time had passed, but you had routinely gotten close to orgasming at least five times already, so it had to have been a while. Every time you got close, Hongjoong would suddenly order you to stop. It was killing you, but at the end of the day, you were the one that asked for this to happen.

“I think you’re exaggerating, baby,” Hongjoong mumbled nonchalantly, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. His finger was hovering over his phone, as he wondered if he should put the toy on the highest setting or not.

“P-please, stop! Please!” you begged, starting to pull your hand away from in between your legs.

When Hongjoong noticed, he immediately reached over and gave your clothed pussy two rough slaps in a row, causing you to let out a choked gasp.

“What did I say, whore? You pull your hand away again and I’m going to leave that leaking pussy of yours all red and swollen.” Hongjoong casually looked back at his computer screen, clicking away at the mouse, as if he didn’t just say something incredibly filthy.

“I-i‘ll be good, Daddy…I’m sorry.” You obeyed his command, pressing the bullet back against your throbbing clit. Just as you did, Hongjoong’s finger tapped the screen of his phone.

“Fuck!” you yelled out in response, your hips bucking involuntarily. You were so incredibly sensitive after being tortured for so long, that you were already about to reach your orgasm again.

“Daddyyy…!” you moaned in a whiny tone, looking in his direction, desperate for him to pay attention to you. His eyes flickered over to yours, appearing indifferent. For some reason, his uninterested expression sent you over the edge. You let out a series of constricted moans, as you squirted directly into your panties, soaking them completely.

“Mm, couldn’t help yourself, could you, brat? Looks like I’ll have to punish you more. I wonder how long it’ll take for you to learn not to disobey me,” Hongjoong commented, closing the app on his phone and standing up from his computer chair.

“I-i’m sorry, Daddy…It just felt so good..” you pouted, not getting an answer from him.

Hongjoong placed himself in front of you, pulling your drenched panties to the side and using two fingers to move up and down your pulsing hole, admiring the wet sounds it made.

“I think you need to be spanked. At least ten times. What do you think, Y/N? Is that a fair punishment?”

You nodded your head quickly, gasping when the pads of his fingers rubbed circles around your swollen clit. He used two fingers from his other hand to slip inside your eager hole, silently fingering you for a couple minutes.

“D-Daddy…that feels…good…” you exhaled shakily, just as you felt his fingers curl inside you, hitting your g-spot. “F-fuck…!”

Hongjoong casually pulled away from you when he felt your pussy clenching around his digits, popping them into his mouth to clean them. He walked over to the couch that was behind him, sitting down with his legs spread open slightly.

“I want you laying across my lap with your ass up in the next two seconds. Skirt and panties off. Leave the knee-socks,” he smirked, patting one of his thick thighs with his veiny hand.

You scrambled off of the desk, quickly sliding out of your skirt and panties. You then ran over to Hongjoong and positioned yourself across his lap, equally scared and eager for what was about to come.

“I want you to count every time I spank you. Are you ready, brat?” he asked in a low voice, his dark eyes surveying your exposed lower half.

“Yes, Daddy,” you replied, nodding your head confidently.

You were extremely ready for what he was about to do, but your heart still pounded away inside your chest. You knew he was going to be ruthless; you could feel it in your bones.

Hongjoong took a deep inhale, opening and closing his dominant hand a few times as a way to prepare himself for the pain he was about to bestow upon you.

“Three…two…one…”

When his hand suddenly came down onto your bare ass, you couldn’t help but let out a moan. When he didn’t hear the number one coming out of your mouth, he swiftly smacked your ass again, harder this time.

“I thought I told you to count, whore.”

“T-Two! It’s two!” you whimpered, your lips forming a pout.

Hongjoong let out an ‘ahhh’ sound, pretending to sound impressed. “So you are capable of counting. And here I thought you were just a brain dead little fuckdoll that’s only good for getting your cunt stuffed full of my cock and cum.”

You felt your pussy clench around nothing but his venom-filled words, wishing for him to continue degrading you. It felt so unbelievably good to hear him say nasty things like that; you swore you could cum from his words alone, if you really wanted to.

Hongjoong brought his hand down again, before his fingers gently brushed over your already-burning skin, as an attempt to ease the pain you felt.

“Three…” you exhaled, closing your eyes, taking in a sharp inhale, as a desperate attempt to prepare yourself for the next round.

Pulling his hand back farther than before, Hongjoong mercilessly sent another wave of pain into your backside, sighing to himself when he heard the long, drawn out whine that escaped your mouth.

“F-four..!” You gripped the side of the couch so tightly, your knuckles began to turn white.

Hongjoong gave you a single second to recover, just before the palm of his hand expertly cracked down on a large section of your ass cheek, his dark eyes focusing on the way it bounced back.

“F-fuck! Five!” you cried out, wondering how you were going to handle the rest, if the fifth one already had you on the brink of insanity.

***

By the time you counted to eight, you were seeing stars. Your ass was sporting a deep shade of red, with bruises already starting to form underneath your skin. There was a constant stream of drool dripping down your chin, but you could care less. You were in heaven.

“Ready for the last two, brat? Hm?” Hongjoong used his hand to massage your swollen ass cheeks, knowing you were in rough shape. He almost felt bad, but then he remembered that you loved every second of it. What a good little painslut you were for him. He would definitely have to reward you for your efforts.

“Yes, Daddy…” you mumbled, only able to focus on the constant stinging sensation you felt radiating from your battered ass.

You only knew he had spanked you again because you heard the slapping sound interrupt the silence in the room. You were simply too far gone to concentrate anymore, but you desperately wanted to please Hongjoong.

“N-nine…”

Hongjoong reeled his hand far back, watching as you took a deep inhale. “Last one, baby. You can do it.”

“Give it to me, Daddy,” you encouraged, gripping the side of his thigh tightly with your sweaty hands.

Hongjoong’s palm slammed viciously down onto your bruised ass for the last time, the extreme pain sending you into a state of pure euphoria.

“Ten…” you exhaled with an airy voice, your body slowly relaxing against his. You closed your eyes for a minute in order to ground yourself, due to feeling like you were floating.

Hongjoong lifted you up and into his lap, gently rubbing your ass with both hands, as an attempt to soothe the lingering pain.

“You did so well for me, baby. So, so well.”

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your arms around Hongjoong. “Yay…” you sighed breathlessly, resting your head in the crook of his neck and clinging to him. You stayed in that position for a while, until you finally noticed that Hongjoong’s aching cock was poking against your bare pussy through his sweatpants.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, angel?” he inquired, rubbing slow circles on your lower back.

“Can you please fuck me now?”

Hongjoong let out a low groan, his dick twitching against you. Sure, you had to go through your punishment, but in a way, Hongjoong had been punished as well. He had sat there the entire time with a raging hard-on and didn’t even touch himself once. But now, it was finally time for him to relieve the built-up tension.

“Of course I can, baby,” he cooed, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing your jaw affectionately. He then lowered his sweatpants, allowing his stiff cock to spring out against his lower abdomen. “Are you ready for Daddy’s cock, babygirl? Hm? Are you ready for me to fill your pretty little cunt up completely?”

“Yes, please…!” you exclaimed, pressing yourself onto him, your bodies flush against one another.

Hongjoong lifted your hips up and guided the head of his cock to your slit, slowly slipping it inside your slick opening, causing you to moan in response.

“Fffuck, baby…I fuck you almost every day and yet you’re still so fucking tight…” he exhaled, finally bottoming out inside of you. “Mm, my cock still fits so perfectly inside you, though. Your Daddy’s little personal cocksleeve, aren’t you?”

Your pussy started to pulse around his length, clearly showing him how much his filthy words affected you.

“Of course I am, Daddy. I just want to get used by you day after day after day…until the very end.”

Hongjoong responded to your words by finding a good pace to thrust into you at, the springs in the couch creaking along to his movements. He slid both of his hands underneath your top, grabbing your braless breasts with his soft hands. His fingers tweaked your nipples, flicking them one by one for a bit, before pulling them.

“D-Daddy…!” you gasped, back arching in response to the endless pleasure he provided you.

After Hongjoong was done playing with your breasts, he wrapped both hands securely around your waist, before snapping his hips up into yours at a brutal new pace. “Oh, yeahhh…that’s it…” Hongjoong kept his eyes on yours, wanting to maintain eye contact with you. You gazed back at him, your own eyes filled with pure unadulterated love and lust.

He smiled at you with his teeth, his tongue poking out in a playful way. “I fucking love the way you look at me, baby…You always act like this is the first time I’m fucking you…”

You had your arms wrapped securely around Hongjoong’s neck, pressing your forehead against his, feeling his soft breath hit your chin. “That’s because it always feels like the first time, Daddy…”

You both continued to look into each other’s half-lidded eyes, Hongjoong’s thrusts never slowing down or faltering in the slightest.

“My pretty baby…so beautiful…” he praised, already starting to feel like he was about to cum. He couldn’t help it; you were just so good for him. His perfect match. “B-baby, I’m gonna cum, but…aaah…I need you to cum with me.”

You nodded, pulling your face away from your boyfriend’s, when you felt your own high start to creep up on you, wanting to get a better look at him when he eventually reached his climax.

“M-me too, Daddy…I want to…cum…with you too…” you replied, in between moans, feeling his thrusts becoming less coordinated and more sloppy.

He gripped your waist tightly, sliding down against the couch a bit, so that he could start pounding into you at a better angle. You let out a strangled scream, your fingers slipping into his damp hair, gripping it desperately.

“Daddy…! I-i’m gonna…! Fuck!”

Hongjoong nodded his head, watching you with a fervent gaze, replying, “I know, angel. I know. Just let go and cum for Daddy.”

He shoved his cock into you one last time and that’s all it took for you to unravel, your vision fading quickly and everything around you disappearing while you came.

Hongjoong brought you back to reality by cupping his hands on either side of your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours once again. He let out a long groan, his cum spilling out deep inside you, filling you up with his love.

“You feel that, baby? You feel Daddy’s cum inside your pretty little pussy?”

“Y-yessss…” you breathed out, completely and utterly fucked-out. A small amount of drool dripped down the side of your lip, prompting Hongjoong to wipe it away with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty, baby…All fucked-out for me.”

“Only for you…Daddy,” you added, your lips curling into a warm smile.

“Only for me,” he echoed, giving you a gentle kiss.

He held you in his arms for a while, his cock still sitting inside you. You always loved when he did this; it made you feel so warm and full inside. You sighed softly, enjoying the sensation as much as you could, before it would inevitably go away.

Once Hongjoong had his fill of cockwarming, he pulled out, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of your hole. He hummed to himself, never getting tired of seeing his seed spill out of you. He then looked up to focus on your flushed face, giving you a heartfelt smile. You felt your heart skip a beat, as you smiled back at him just as lovingly.

“You know I didn't want to punish you, right? You were being a huge brat, so I had no choice." Hongjoong tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning your face. "You do know that, right, angel?” he asked softly, running his fingers through your damp, messy hair.

“Yeah, I know, Joongie,” you replied, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’ll try not to be a brat again. I want to be your good girl.”

“You’ll always be my good girl, Y/N. Always.” Hongjoong looked at you with love in his eyes, filling your heart up with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

“I love you…” you gushed, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily against it. He immediately slipped his own hand over yours, squeezing it softly.

“Love you more, baby.” Hongjoong kissed the top of your forehead, before pulling you against his chest, in order to give you a long, much-needed hug.

➽───────────────❥

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