Siempre Me Toca A Mi Pedir Perdon Por Que Si No Quedo Como La Mala Del Cuento Como Si Yo No Sintiera

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himselfwas a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, maestro.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

ENHYPEN hyung line AS OLD LOVE SONGS — THE SERIES. ⭒

VOL 1 | MASTERLIST

﹙. ♡﹚ PARK JONGSEONG | PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER

— ⟢ pairing: lawyer!jay x lawyer!afab reader

— ⟢ synopsis: jay and you are in a friends with benefits situation and also partners at work. but he is falling harder for you each day more and more, and he is waiting for your precious love, as you put your head on his shoulder, after an amazing night. (sets in dirty little secret/lawyer!jay universe)

— ⟢ wc: 3.8k !

— ⟢ warnings: smut, protected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), using pet names (darling, good boy, princess) and i guess that's it!

— ⟢ a/n: say hello to the part 1 of old love songs series! first one is for my beloved lawyer!jay, the first character i ever wrote and please treat him right! he has a special place in my heart. also i added a scene from their university/rivalry years which is connected to the og fic and i hope you enjoy that! idk which member will be next but i will make sure to update you, thank you for reading<3 ily oreos.

You opened the front door of your house as fast as you could because you had a Park Jongseong pressed against your back, attacking the nape of your neck like he was hungry and you were his dinner. 

He smirked when you finally pushed both of you inside of your house, where you had been meeting almost everyday after work, to have some fun, and today was no exception. 

His fingers were already on his tie, loosening it as he made you walk to your bedroom, supporting you from your ass with his other hand. 

“C’mon darling.” He kind of jumped with excitement behind you as he saw your bed, that you didn’t even bother to make and some underwear laying on top. 

He let his body fall on the mattress, legs spread as he unbuttoned his shirt with a smug smile. You rolled your eyes at his boyish behavior but you followed him as you straddle his lap and pulled his shirt over his shoulders, exposing his bare chest to your eyes. 

“I sucked you off yesterday so it’s your turn.” You sweetly smiled and he groaned, his back falling to the bed. “Was too excited for a head, fuck.” 

“I’m sorry, Park.” You shrugged your shoulders in tiny, as you kissed his exposed chest and then his neck, making him whimper under you. “Also, we both know how much you like giving me head.” You smirked against his skin, remembering the time he cummed in his pants while he was eating you out under the sheets. 

“You’re never going to stop talking about this right?” He huffed, before grabbing your chin to kiss your lips, which you do rarely, especially when you both are in the need to relieve stress. 

“Looks like you want romantic fuck?” You pouted, when you broke the kiss and made him giggle. 

“Mhm, if you also want to of course.” He pushed a strand of hair that was falling in front of your eye. 

“You drived me crazy at work, and now you’re asking me to make love to you..” You rolled your eyes in a mocking way before you kissed his lips once more, making him feel butterflies that he didn’t want to feel at all. 

Jay’s eyes closed with pleasure, when you kissed his neck slowly, sucking his skin and making him whimper underneath you. Jay and you have been in this routine for the past two weeks maybe, and for sure, this became his favorite part of the day. 

You made work fun for him, knowing he will get to taste you after a long stressful day, it really made being an attorney bearable. Having a clever partner which he gets to fuck after work. 

Your fingers unbuckled his belt quickly, as your lips were attached to his birthmark on his neck, then you felt his hands grabbing you by the waist tightly, pushing you more into his crotch as you straddled him. 

“Oohh..” 

You snapped your head up from his neck, hearing his painful moan, to look at his eyes with red and plump lips from kissing, “What now?” 

He flipped you over on the bed and got on top, then a cheesy smile covered his lip, before he nibbled on his bottom lip like a naughty kid.

“I need to pee so badly.” 

You gave him a dead glare because this wasn’t the first instead of being hot and sexy, deciding to tell the most random and weird thing his little mind can ever come up with. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” 

He got up from the bed and walked to the door as he had a hand on his crotch area, “It’s your karma for beating me at Harvard, darling.” 

Well even though Jay was incredibly weird and a mood killer most of the time, he always made you end up crying on his dick, wanting for more, begging for more.

Even the times when he insisted to have a romantic fuck, like an actual couple, with kisses and words. Both of you wanted to think this was just an act, since the beginning of your agreement. You’d love to take your anger out of each other as well as this. But Jay was dying inside, why you had to make love so softly, his heart was literally aching whenever you touched him. 

When he was thrusting in and out of you, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly and your lips against his, letting him swallow your moans, you craved him more. Most of the time he went back to his place but sometimes you craved the man who just fucked you to stay all night beside you. It just felt better, nothing has to do with Jay at all. 

“Jay?” 

He shivered when you mumbled his name all of a sudden, but tried to act cool as much as possible, “Yeah?” 

“Can you stay with me tonight?” 

The way he nodded so quickly made you want to smile so hard. 

You brought your hands to his cheeks, caressing the top of his cheekbones lightly, “Thanks.” 

He gulped, shaking his head to the sides, “It is actually closer to work from your house, plus you drive and gas is kinda expensive these days..” 

Your mouth opened with shock, the audacity this man had to say all these, when he was inside you, fucking you!?

“Oh god, I really do hate you, like a lot.” 

“Why we fucking right now then?”

You sighed deeply, as he brushed his nose against yours and pressed his lips to your tilted cheek, “Tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” You mumbled, trying to sound as neutral as possible as he landed butterfly kisses to your jaw. 

“Why we can’t keep our hands off each other, if you hate me so much?” 

He rocked his hips slightly harder to get a reaction out of you when you deadpanned, and it worked, you moaned, looking at him with questioning eyes. 

“Because you make me feel good.” 

“Couldn’t hear that, darling.” 

You got angry and grabbed his chin between your fingers to push his face to yours, making him stare at you. Your lips were dangerously close again as you speaked. 

“You make me feel good.” 

A pretty smile formed on his lips before he kissed you, his arms snaking around your body, and yours around his neck, as your lips danced against each other. When Jay pushed his tongue between your lips you let him, and with a move with your hip and a push to his shoulder, you turned his body over, making both of you lay on sides. 

His one hand creeped to the back of your head and pushed your face even closer to his, noses and teeth bumping against each other for a while, until you completed the turn and got on top of him. 

Your chest was pressed to his as you started rocking your hips, and your lips didn’t leave each other not even for a second. Even when you wanted to breathe, your lips were on his, and you just breathed into his mouth, before he pushed your head down again, licking into your mouth messily. 

You softly giggled when he pulled the sheets to cover you up and then massaged your back over it. He knew you got cold easily. 

Your lips dropped down to his sharp jawline and you couldn’t help but bite the tensed muscle, making him hiss. “Relax, babe.” 

His clenched jaw softened, and you smiled and started kissing his skin there, this time making him whimper softly. “Mhm, such a good boy.” 

“Ah, good boy, huh?” 

You hummed sweetly, putting a hand on his cheek to pinch lightly, “Aren’t you one?” 

You gasped when his hands grabbed your ass and squeezed your skin harshly. Then he put his finger where his cock was parting you apart and pushed himself deeper in you, “Am I?” 

You gasped, feeling his thighs against yours.

“Fuck you.” 

“You’re already at it.” 

“You’re so deep.” You closed your eyes for a second and then sighed, opening your eyes to his smug face. 

“I know, I can feel it too.” 

“Asshole.” You bit back, trying to move your hips slightly. 

“You like me.” He smirked, guiding your hips on his cock. 

“I despise you.” 

“You are sitting on my cock.” 

“Ugh.” You whined, grasping his face between your fingers before kissing him angrily, making him let out a manly yet soft laugh into your mouth. 

“You’re lucky this is still my favorite time of the day.” You mumbled and then smirked, making Jay roll you over and get on top again, having a hand behind your head. 

His lips pressed to yours as he started fucking you faster and harder, just the way you liked it, making you let out his favorite sounds. 

2018, Harvard

Your eyes were burning from studying for your final exam and your neck was killing you from the sitting position you had for the past seven hours. 

I need to beat Jongseong. 

“Ugh, speak of the devil..” You rolled your eyes, seeing your biggest rival and the guy you hated the most entering the library, with his glasses you thought were not prescribed at all. Loser.

Library was almost empty and he had plenty of seats for him to choose and sit. Yet, you winced when he loudly pulled the chair next to you, making people look at you, and earning a scolding ‘ssh’ from the librarian. 

“What’s up?” He whispered, making you give him a deadly look. 

“Horrible, since you decided to sit next to me and interrupt my studying.” 

He rolled his tongue in his mouth, and he enjoyed how he had the magic to get you so angry. He watched you in classes, you were not a hot headed person at all, everyone loved you so much. You were like honey to them, their hardworking, helpful, sweet y/n. Even the professors loved you so much, only if they knew you were a brat out of the classroom.

He shrugged lightly, “You look like shit.” 

You didn’t even remove your eyes from the paper which you were highlighting with a neon colored pen. He might’ve been right, your hair was in a messy bun, you were on your period, you had zits on your chin due to hormonal imbalance, and your under eyes were baggy. 

All the things you sacrificed to beat his ass. 

“I know.” 

He smirked before he put his hands on your shoulders, and attempted to massage them, which made you let out a tiny scream. 

“Hey!” 

He gave you a soft look under his lashes, you just knew he had another evil plan in his head just by looking at his pretty cat eyes. 

“You look tense and stressed and horrible and —

“Come to the point, Jay.” 

He huffed, pulling you from your chair closer to his, making yet another loud sound, and another deadly look from the librarian falling on you both. 

“Let me massage your shoulders a little bit, princess. Don’t worry, I am really good at it.” 

When you were dating Sunghoon, he used to tell you how amazing massages Jay gives to his friends, and if he ends up jobless, he can basically open a spa. Only problem was, you never trusted Jay, and you still thought he must have had an evil plan. 

But you had zero energy on your spine to hold you up, and you were planning to take a fifteen minute break anyway to sleep. That was your sleep schedule during finals.. fifteen minutes. It could have been an hour if Jongseong didn’t exist though. 

“I wanna race on equal terms,” He showed you his teeth as he smiled and then you felt his fingers grasping on your shoulders, kneading your muscles gently. 

“Oh..”

“Good, right?” He smirked, looking at your relaxed eyebrows, as he worked his magic on you. 

You were only able to nod, as your eyes were closed now, and when they were closed, Jay stared at your highlighted parts, the parts you refused to give him when he asked for it and were possible final questions. 

“Now I will massage your neck,” He whispered, putting only one hand on the base of your tilted neck, eyes still closed as the devil himself took his phone out from his pocket, and took pictures of your textbook.

Now his plan was to fuck off, and sit somewhere else and study these until the morning. His plan worked. 

He smirked, gathering his belongings to get up, but your head fell down to his shoulder suddenly. 

You just fell asleep on his shoulder. 

How exhausted you might have been to fall asleep this quick on his shoulder, you were like those weird people on a plane who abruptly fell on you and you had to just go with it. 

He huffed as he stared down at your sleeping face on his shoulder, and licked his lips to the view — He had to admit, you were still pretty with dry patches of skin on your forehead and pimples he wanted to squeeze on your chin. 

Then he got sleepy too as he studied the parts he stole from you from his phone screen, and his head slowly fell on top of yours, falling asleep. 

Your fifteen minute break, turned into a three hour long sleep, on Jay’s shoulders and his evil plan also failed, since he fell asleep with you, instead of studying. 

When you woke up, you had only an hour left until the exam, and the sun was already shining outside. You touched the first thing that was next to you, which happened to be your beloved rival’s chest. 

Then you saw his phone in his hand, and your textbook fully open, and you immediately knew. 

“Park!” You screamed so loud, pushing his head from yours, literally forgetting you were in the library. 

“I am going to kill you with my own hands, you idiot!” You yelled, slapping his upper arm continuously as tears formed on your eyes from anger. 

His awakening was too fast for him to gather his thoughts and to understand why you were beating him up, “I hate you! You are the devil, Park Jongseong!” 

People were huffing and grumbling at your voice being so loud, even not that, the constant slapping that came from the contact you applied to his shoulder. 

“God! Stop! I didn’t mean to make you fall asleep.” He raised his hands beside his head, in a defensive way, “I am sorry, okay?” 

You gathered your belongings on the table quickly, as the librarian stood beside you both, cursing and shaming you for disrespecting everyone’s studies. 

“Okay! I am leaving, stop yelling at me.” You cried as you shouted again, and then turned back to Jay to push him again. “Go to hell, Park. I mean it.” 

He got up and pushed you against the table when the woman left, thinking no one could see.

“As you can see, I was also asleep, y/n.” He talked between his teeth, getting angry at your tantrum. “If my plan was to put you in sleep and make you fail the test, I wouldn’t have let you sleep on my shoulder, right?” 

“You stole my notes.” You pressed your pointer next to his heart, as you let out every word. 

“Yeah, but my plan was to study them, not fucking falling asleep on you!” He screamed this time, pushing your hand from his chest aggressively, “Instead, you fell asleep on me like an annoying stray cat and now I will fail too!” 

You laughed sarcastically, putting your hand on your forehead, as you tried to process everything — this bitch ass was blaming you for everything now? 

“You’re an asshole, Park.” You grabbed your bag and pushed him so you could slide between his body and the table he trapped you between. 

After you left, a poor med student came closer to Jay, and pulled him the finger. 

“I will write this on the Harvard forum— For people to never study in this library when you two dickheads are here.” 

Now the same guy was kissing down your body to your core, you weren’t able to see his face as he was lost under the covers, pressing soft kisses on your clit. 

“As promised.” He mumbled before diving his tongue between your folds and licking you, making your knees bent with pleasure and giving him more room down there. 

“Fuck.” Your eyes rolled, fingers running through his silky strands as he licked your cunt. 

“Don’t stop — oh!” 

His skilled tongue, made you let out all kinds of whimpers and moans and what he loved the most listening to them, as a proof of how good he made you feel. It satisfied something inside of him that he wasn’t able to name or understand but one thing he was sure of was, he enjoyed being the cause of your pleasure. 

“Fingers too, please.” 

He giggled against your clit and he pushed the covers on his back to be able to see your face covered with lust. And seeing Jay between your legs and staring up at you like a hungry animal always got you going. 

“Look at you begging so pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, pushing his face more to your pussy, his nose brushing against your throbbing clit. 

He didn’t hesitate to shove two fingers inside your cunt easily, which was filled with his cock a few minutes ago. You whined so much on his dick and said dirty stuff to his ear while he was deeper than ever, so he kind of cummed earlier than he planned. 

“Oh! Yes, so good.” You sighed loudly, at the combination of his lips sucking on your clit and his fingers stirring your cunt and pumping them, lewd noises filling your bedroom. 

He flicked your sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, before he sucking it again, making you roll your head back, while your juices spilled up to his forearm. 

“Fuck, so wet, darling.” He smirked, as he pushed his finger deeper and curled them inside, making you scream. “So wet and messy.” 

“Please, I am so close.” You looked at him with desperation and he couldn’t make you wait any longer after seeing your hazy eyes staring at him. 

Then his continuous thrusts against your g-spot with his thick fingers started, making you squirm and melt into the bed, his lips trapped between his teeth as he watched your ruined expressions. 

You cummed, coating his fingers with your slick even more, if it was possible. He caressed your opening gently after pulling his fingers down, and then rubbed them along your folds, before he licked everything, making you cry with the overwhelmed feeling. 

“You look so cute when you cum.” 

His words made you blush and you refused to look at him but his wet fingers grabbed your cheek and forced you to stare at his pretty eyes. 

“You owe me a good blow now.” 

Your face scrunched up, pushing his chest for him to fall next to you, his manly laugh echoing in the room. “You are so romantic.” You mumbled in a sarcastic tone.

You wanted to get up from the bed but his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to his chest quickly. “Do you want me to be romantic?” He raised a single eyebrow, a smirk covering his plump wet lips. 

You shook your head as you tried to push yourself away from his chest, “Ugh, I don’t, ew — I was just, forget it.” 

When you tried to get out of his hold, you winced, a sharp pain spreading along your tense muscle. 

“What happened?” He panicked, seeing you putting a hand behind your neck and closing your eyes in pain. 

“I keep getting neck pains at work.” You mumbled, “It’s one of them.” 

He smirked, putting his palms on your shoulders as you held the sheets to cover your chest, moaning when he gently kneaded your muscles. 

“Last time you did this, I got my lowest grade in my whole academic life.”

He laughed loudly as you let your head lean to the back to look at his face, “Do you remember?” 

He nodded and couldn’t help himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead, making you put your hand over your mouth in shock. 

His hands stopped moving and one of them grabbed your wrist and freed your lips, and you were shocked when he grabbed both of your cheeks and kissed your lips, and it was like the kiss in spiderman, instead the top of your head was leaning against his chest. 

“I remember you falling asleep on my shoulder.” He mumbled into your mouth as he slowly kissed you, making goosebumps raise up on your skin. 

He pulled himself from your lips, and squeezed your cheeks, lightly giggling at your upside down face. 

His heart skipped a beat when you caressed his thighs, and then smirked, “Can I do it again? Because my neck is hurting a lot.” 

“Oh!” He immediately released your head from his hold and rested himself on the headboard of your bed. When he smiled at you gently and tapped his shoulder for you to come, you quickly crawled to him, resting your head there. 

He wondered what if he had you as his girlfriend? Putting your head on his shoulder every night because even though you denied it a few years ago, Jay was the only person who was able to put you to sleep during your busy schedule. 

And he imagined you looking up at him with doe eyes, putting your lips next to his before kissing him every night. 

“Can you kiss me once?” 

You stared up at him with confused eyes, “Hm?” 

“Just a kiss goodnight.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and grabbing your face with one hand. “I need to know.” 

You smiled in confusion, your eyebrow raising up. 

“Knowing what?” You got closer to him and caressed his chest softly, making him lean into your touch. 

“Please, y/n.” 

Your heart was beating so fast in your chest as your hand traveled from his chest to his cheek, tugging on his skin gently as you pulled him to your mouth, both of your eyes closing at the feeling of having each other’s lips. 

He smiled into the kiss as he got his answer, and when he smirked you broke the kiss, his head fell against your chest as he started giggling. 

“What? Jay!” You got confused even more when he pulled you to his chest and kissed the top of your head, keeping you getting surprised at his weird and loving behavior all of a sudden. 

“Did you get your answer?” You asked, without knowing what was the question he had and why his answer was hidden in the kiss you just gave him. 

He sighed deeply, hugging your bare body even closer to his as he nodded his head. “I did.” 

You and I will fall in love. 

THE END.

OLD LOVE SONGS SERIES WILL BE BACK.

TAGLIST: @beomqutie , @2-parks , @zerasari , @axartia , @zhaixiaowen , @hee-pster , @wonyofanclub , @heetro , @feicraycrayy , @jakecist , @yoshinorichkn , @foxdaisy , @lilactangerine , @maggstar , @lix-freckle3 , @enhastolemyheart , @syannxcvii , @mesopret , @jayroseyy , @sunghoonmybeloved , @wony6ung

HOW TO DISAPPEAR

☆ — fluff popular boy + quiet girl bookshelf female reader and park sunghoon no warnings 0.6k

authors note, i’ve been going ia a bit cause my brain is like so dead and i was catching up on school which is ending in like 6 weeks ?? but i will try and get more work out!

your earbuds hung from your ears as a low melody played from your phone stuffed into your pocket, ignoring the bustling hall with chattering students. their backs shoved you into your locker muttering soft ‘sorrys’ before continuing. you didn’t mind the contact.

your hands searched the depth of your locker for your english book, hoping it’d jump out from the mess of scattered papers and loose pencils. other textbooks and miscellaneous items fell to the floor but you could care less, everyone would just pass by without a second glance.

with furrowed brows and an exhausted groan you flung your arms up yanking your earbuds out of your ears sending your phone to the floor. the clatter was loud along with the rest of your books taking their chance and escaping your locker. as if the day could get any better.

“i should’ve stayed home.” you grumbled crouching down and picking up the fallen novels. your bare knees touched the cold floor sending a shock through your body. it was just the beginning of the morning and you were already crabby.

in the midst of your hushed mumbles and curses slipping through your teeth, you failed to notice the large presence beside you. your arms full of your cubby contents.

his fingers grasped your phone picking it off the floor. his blonde hair covered just enough of his forehead, lips painted with a fresh cherry and his eyes a deep golden brown.

his lips curved into a short smile, he pushed an earbud into his ear pressing play to the song.

‘how to disappear’ lana del ray.

“suits you,” he blurted, startling you. you hadn’t seen or felt his figure looming over you.

“what?” you breathed out.

“is this artist good?” he asked once again, showing you your phone screen. his friends waited around watching him.

you’ve never spoken more than three words to park sunghoon before. the only time you had somewhat of a real conversation was when you tried out for the lead role for juliet in romeo and juliet. he had been chosen as romeo, you found out and ran out as you both approached the kiss scene. since then you’ve found a way around him.

“sure, i don’t know.” you shrugged, throwing your satchel over your shoulder. he smiled, handing you your phone. his fingers still intertwined with the earbuds.

“you were casted as juliet right? for the summer play, you know before you ran off.” he inched closer and you took a step back. his friends were intrigued as they too grew nearer.

you didn’t say anything adjusting your bag out of habit, his eyes were boring into your face. sunghoon was natural at achieving the ‘am i flirting?’ look.

silence took the both of you, your hands holding one end of your phone. your cheeks held a light blush full of fluster. he caught you off guard and he knew it too.

“can i have my phone back?” tugging your device closer he quickly nodded letting go.

“the theater is preparing another play. you’d look good in it, i’ll be the lead role.” he grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“he’s amazing, you should see him.” one of his friends —you recognized him to be jake from ap physics— smiled as well patting sunghoon’s shoulder.

“no, no boys,” he turned to them, taking a second look at you. “she’s gonna be my partner.”

they chuckled lowly. you stood there in complete confusion. maybe monday’s weren’t your thing.

“i’ll see you, yn.” he raised his brows before turning with the rest of his friends. sunghoon casted one last look at you while he rounded the corner.

shutting your locker you placed the earbuds back in your ear trying to walk off the jitters. you shook your head getting rid of your hot cheeks.

on the other hand, that night sunghoon lay in his bed adding ‘how to disappear’ to his playlist.

© eulris

Enhypen Hyung Trope Series; P.S.H

Sunghoon; Enemies to Lovers part of Enha Hyung Line Trope Series

paring: Soccer Co-Cap!Sunghoon x Student Council Vice! fem reader

synopsis: An unspoken and unforeseen trail of events leads to Sunghoon and Y/N being known enemies. Sunghoon always teasing and annoying Y/N while Y/N does her best to get him in trouble every chance she gets. Is that all there is to it though? 

warnings & tags: food, PA’s, a lot of cute sunghoon and y/n moments, CODING TERMS BC ITS MY MINOR DEGREE, just a cute fic hehe, not proof read

word count: 9.6k (?????)

📌: And just like that…we are done with the trope series. I’m not FULLY happy with the final one but it felt like a good way to end the series with something cute and funny hehe enemies to lovers was hard to write without making it superrr cliche but i enjoyed this ahahah. I would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support this series received it really motivates me to post and create more work so please look forward to it!!! This fic is queued to post bc its so late rn >.<

As for my next fic(s) I have a lot of ideas so please look out for updates till then👀  once again thank you so much for all the love and support make sure to like and reblog and i’ll see you at the next one 🥳 AND AS SPOILER MY NEXT FIC IS BASED OFF OF ONE OF MY FAV CHICK FLICKS AHHHH 

©2023 , dazed-hee . Please do not repost , plagiarize or translate anywhere ty!

Seguir leyendo

A very young Diana Vishneva at Vaganova Ballet Academy. A funny photo by Pavel Markin.

bed of lies ; park sunghoon

↳ PAIRING: park sunghoon x fembodied!reader

↳ SUMMARY: to prove to his best friend that he could get any girl he wants, park sunghoon makes a bet. within the next 30 days, he has to make the next girl that walks into the room fall in love with him. sunghoon, however, hadn’t anticipated the feelings he would gain during those 30 days.

↳ GENRE: fake relationship (kind of)

↳ WORDCOUNT: around 40k

↳ WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, cigarettes, cursing, angst, sunghoon has major mommy issues lmfao, smut; oral sex, handjobs, unprotected sex, fingering, making out, handjobs etc, minors dni!

↳ TAGLIST: CLOSED !

— PART ONE release date : 8TH OF AUGUST, 4 PM CET

summary : making a bet with jay was easy. getting your attention, however, wasn’t as easy; especially since you seem to have your eyes set on his bestfriend.

word count : 10,3k

— PART TWO release date : 15TH OF AUGUST, 4 PM CET

summary : you getting closer to jake was most definitely not on sunghoons list of things he expected to happen, but you making his heart flutter wasn’t on that list either; yet you did. word count : 8,8k

— PART THREE release date : 6TH OF SEPTEMBER, 10 PM CET

summary : the time spent with you causes sunghoon to come the realization that he fucked up, and he fucked up bad. and thanks to jake, you also realize how badly sunghoon fucked up.

word count : 10k

— PART FOUR release date : 26TH OF OCTOBER, 1:25 AM CET

summary : sunghoon comes to terms with the fact that he has fallen in love with you and is willing to do everything in his power to show you that he has truly fallen for you, but are you willing to forgive him?

word count : 9.6k © svnoohe4rts 2022

why is my doctor flirting with me

Hiiiiiii hope you are doing well!!!! If you feel up to it could you pls write a short story or whatever of Aomine x y/n college au with some kind of friends to lovers or enemies to lovers I rly don’t mind, fluff or nsfw idm whatever you feel like I am just a bit of a hoe for the tension and build up 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

omg honey 😳😳😳 you’re talking to the CEO of building tension between herself and her crush, so this is right up my alley lmao I hope I won’t disappoint

Fine Line // Aomine Daiki x Reader

Context: college!au in which your best friend Aomine is all your friends talk about, but you can’t see what the hype is all about.

Pairing: Aomine x gn! Reader

Warnings: some cussing, tension between the two main characters, some mildly suggestive passages but still sfw but overall it's fluff 🥰

“That dude is so fucking sexy...”

“Oh my god, and he plays basketball too?”

“Should we go watch him train on the court?”

You glare at your new friends, an amused expression on your face. Something about them gushing over your best friend is somewhat funny. You’ve known Aomine for too long to be able to see what they’re seeing. To you, the blue-haired guy is the dumbass that has been following you around and pulled you into some shenanigans since your first year of university. The two of you have met during orientation week and bonded in the strangest way. You didn’t have any common interest, and to be frank, you initially found his personality irritating. He always has this aura of “I’m too cool for you” surrounding him, as he carelessly does things, like the notion of consequence is foreign to him. Yet, you still sit next to each other in every classes you have in common, and soon enough, he is in your apartment every night, invading your space with not an ounce of shame in his body.

To this day, you still wonder what makes him your best friend. He’s an arrogant, slightly pervy idiot, yet you’d take a bullet for him at any time. And as for him, well you are as clueless as what makes him stick around. It’s not like he can’t find anything better and has to settle for you as his sole company; Aomine is fairly popular, even on your big campus. He frequently gets invited to parties, is constantly asked on dates, he’s even able to get extensions for his assignments by sweet-talking his lecturers. So really, he can be well off without you. But for the past years, he’s is constantly somewhere around you, no matter what, even going as far as turning down dates to hang out with you. Most of the time, you don’t demand anything from him, but he’ll constantly show up, wherever you are, just to kill time in your company.

You smile as your friends finally decide that they will go to the outside court to watch their new eye candy. You haven’t told them how close you are to Aomine, because it would ruin the fun for you. Hearing them fantasize on him when you’ve seen him in his most unattractive moments makes it ironically funny.  As you approach the court, however, you quickly realize that you can’t hide your proximity with him anymore. As soon as his blue eyes lay on you, he drops the ball to come to you, a stupid smile plastered on his face.

“Bestie!”

“Don’t call me that” you grunt.

He laughs, coming in for a hug that you decline. He’s sweaty, and you’re wearing a nice shirt, so you don’t want his stench on you. You fail to notice your friends witnessing your interaction with the athlete student, both completely flabbergasted.

“You should go back to your game” you say, noticing his teammates looking his way.

He turns around, following your gaze, before nodding. But before he goes, he removes his sweaty t-shirt and throws it right at you. You catch it in extremis, glaring at him.

“I’m not a fucking laundry basket Daiki, don’t throw your dirty clothes at me!”

He sends you a flying kiss while you're scolding him, quickly reprising his place on the court amongst the other players. You swear as you hold his t-shirt by the tip of your fingers, and when you turn around, you meet the shocked faces of your friends.

“Y/n? For how long have you known him?!”

You smirk. Well, this might be the end of the fun for you, but it was entertaining, while it lasted.

“That moron is my best friend” you casually say.

They both look at you in a complete state of incredulity. Yet, they can tell you aren’t lying. From the small interaction that they have witnessed, they can easily guess how well acquainted you are with Aomine.

“Couldn’t you say something about it earlier?! Dude, we’ve been down bad for him for so long, and you just... knew him?”

You raise your shoulders. Granted, if you have told them earlier, maybe they could have had a better chance at asking your best friend on a date. You could have introduced them, playing Cupid for your buddies who genuinely see Aomine as the best catch out there.

“It was funny listening to y’all talking about him like he’s an actual hot ass. Truth be told, he’s a giant dummy” you admit. “Oh well, I guess I had my fun. Sorry about that.”

You momentarily disappear to put Aomine’s t-shirt in his bag and go back to the side-court, acting like you haven’t just dropped a bomb on your friends who both have crush on the blue-haired boy.

“Is that it, y/n? Or are you keeping him for yourself?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, we’d respect it if you had something going on with him.”

It’s your turn to look at them with round eyes. The idea of anything romantic going on between you and your best friend is an absolute absurdity. People have at multiple occasions assume that the two of you are a couple, and every time, your reaction is the same: Aomine laughing, and you rushing to deny such stupid assumption.

“I’m not interesting in him, he’s all yours” you declare. “Honestly, I really can’t see what you find in him.”

You stretch your arms, looking for your best friend on the court. You’re lying when you say you can’t see how he’s attractive, because he definitely is. Especially now, when he plays basketball; the way he owns the whole court, running from one side to the other, lean muscles glistening as the sunrays hit the sweat beads on his body, his face contortioned under concentration. He is objectively a very handsome guy, and you may deny it as much as you want, you can sometimes feel your heart race when you see him under certain lights. But for the most part, Daiki is just Daiki. And you can’t imagine him as someone else to you.

You stay on court till the match ends, you friends having to leave at some point, which they truly dreaded because it meant that they couldn’t admire their eye candy anymore. You remain there knowing that Aomine will have eventually ended at your place this evening, so you might as well wait for him to finish so he can drive you home instead of taking the bus. He finishes, bidding his teammates goodbye before coming to you, a small smile on his lips. He always smiles when he sees you, which is quite cheesy in your opinion, but you can’t change his ways.

“Thanks for waiting for me” he says after taking a few sips of water.

“I want you to drive me home.”

He chuckles, putting on a clean t-shirt, and taking his bag as the both you walk out of the campus. The air is fresh, and you look at the cloudless sky in search for the first stars. They usually shine timidly at this point of the day, so you may have to search for them for a while. You don’t notice your best friend watching you, a soft smile on his lips. He likes these small habits of yours, the thing that you do casually, without even thinking that they’re noticeable, let alone appreciable. You still walk for a bit until you reach his car and you get in.

The journey is short in car, contrary to your usual thirty minutes in the bus. You quickly get in your apartment, letting a sigh of relief leave your mouth as you remove your shoes and find some snack in the kitchen. As expected, Aomine navigates around your place like he’s the one actually living here, and in some ways, he sort of does.

“Can I take a shower?”

“Yeah, you’ve got some clean clothes in my drawers” you reply chewing on your snack.

He nods before walking towards the bedroom and it’s only then that you realize that you’ve given the greenlight for him to snoop around your drawers. And it’s surely not something you want him to do. You guys may be close, but the thought of him going around your stuff, probably seeing your underwear, is terrifying. You rush to your room, hoping that you can intervene before he sees too much.

“I’ll get the clothes for you” you spurt out as you join him.

“Don’t kill my fun y/n, you have some interesting stuff in there...”

He looks at you smugly, holding some of your underwear in his big palm and you are quick to get these back. Cheeks red, you look like the perfect victim for Aomine’s teasing.

“So, when do you where those, huh? For who do you wear them?” he asks while leaning towards you.

You push his face away with your hand, clearly flustered but trying your best to hide it.

“It’s none of your business Daiki, take that fucking shower so I can get some rest from you.”

Laughing as he finally gets his clothes, the tall boy walks towards your bathroom, but he turns around one last time, and you can tell that he is not done getting on your nerves.

“That blue one, it matches my hair” he says as he throw one of your underwear at you – one that you haven’t noticed he’s been holding all along.

You are speechless, he really has no sense of boundaries. To be honest, that has always been the dynamics in your friendship. Aomine, for some reason, has never once hesitated to act like your belongings are his too, taking ownership of your whole space and personal effects. How many times have you come back home to him peacefully napping in your bed, or have you found his clothes in your laundry basket because he’s felt like taking a shower at your place? Or all the times he’s answered the phone for you, talking to your parents like he actually is their child.

When you think about it, there is no wonder that people will automatically think that you are a couple. In some ways, you act like one – always hanging out, basically living together, constantly taking care of each other in the most mundane way. You cooking for him, him walking you under his umbrella on rainy days, him buying your favourite snacks when he’s eaten all of them, you letting him have to best pillow when he sleeps over. And you ponder if this is how things should be. Is that really friendship? At the same time, you don’t want to change this dynamic; if the both of you were to behave differently with each other, it would probably be the end of your bond. It is the fact that your relationship is not necessarily bounded to conventions, which leads to outside judgement. But you don’t want others to get to your head.

As far as you are concerned, Daiki is your best friend.

You lay in your bed, lost in your thoughts. You really try not to overthink it, because for the longest time you didn’t even bother to reply to anyone making assumptions on you and Aomine, but it’s getting harder lately. You can’t understand where these doubts come from, and you can’t shake them of. Are you in denial and may actually be into him; or are you really just friend with him?

The scent of your shower gel takes you out your reflections, and you look up, seeing the object of your thoughts in front of you. In a towel. That’s all. You struggle to keep the red from reaching your cheeks at this sight.

“Dude, where are your clothes?” you ask, trying not to look.

“Was too focused on your underwear that I forgot mine here” he laughs. “What’s up with you?”

“Huh?”

“Why aren’t you looking me when you speak? That ain’t like you.”

You swear – you really aren’t sly. Reluctantly, you look up, facing that malicious smile that Aomine has on his face sometimes.

“Is it me? Do I make you shy when I stand half naked in front of you?” he asks not necessarily expecting an answer, as he knows he is right.

“Shut up” you mumble, trying to hold eye-contact with him.

The tall man looks smugger than ever, his hands on his hips, right wear the towel stands. To your surprise, he climbs on the bed, leaving water stains from his still wet body, and you move in defence when he is way too close to you.

“It’s cute, that I make you feel this way.”

“As if” you lie, “stop feeding your ego. Are you so lonely Daiki, that you absolutely need attention? Because if you need a date, I have two friends who would totally love going out with you.”

He scoffs at your word, laying next to you. You can feel the heat of his body against your skin, and you wonder for how long can you defend yourself. Soon enough, you won’t be able to lie, pretending that the way he is right now doesn’t do things to you.

“I don’t want a date” he lets out.

“So that’s your life now, just being around me at all times?”

“I’m fine with it.”

His voice is tinted in honesty, and you suddenly feel like your doubts aren’t so senseless. This time, it isn’t the outside work that gets into your head, it’s Aomine himself. Are you so clueless on the nature of your relationship with him? Are you the only one who refuses to see it?

“Daiki, are you fine with being my best friend?”

You don't mean to ask the question; but it still got out of your mouth, regardless.

“What kind of question is this?”

He sighs, as a silence sets between you. You don’t expect him to take this long to reply, and the fact that he hasn’t said a word yet further confirms that like you, there is some lines that are blurred for him.

“Forget it, you don’t have to answer” you let out.

You aren’t sure why you don’t want him to say a word anymore; it’s certainly fear, but you are too proud to admit it. You prop yourself up, ready to leave your bed and act like nothing happened, but your best friend’s hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back to the mattress.

“Dai-“

He doesn’t give you the time to say a word that he has you in dangerous proximity to his body. You can’t move, too confused by what is going on to say a word. And maybe it was the lightning, or maybe, it is a revelation, but you have never seen Aomine like this before. At this very moment, as you eyes lock in his, you can only feel your heart beating in your chest to an abnormal rhythm, the rest of your senses being completely out of service. You are unable to grasp any notion of time or space. At this very moment, it’s you, and him. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Shit, y/n, how can you even ask if I’m fine being your best friend?” he says, voice low in your ear. “I love you but you’re one huge dumbass. I’ve been making moves for months, so again, how can you ask if I’m ok with just being your best friend?”

You gulp, processing his words. It’s an overflow of information, and you struggle to understand it, let alone realize that this moment is happening. Everything seems so surreal, yet you are not hallucinating.

“I can’t stop smiling like an idiot when I see you, it’s absurd” he laughs, “I don’t know when or how, or why, but at some point I stopped being satisfied with simply being your friend. Can you blame me for that?”

You slowly shake your head as an answer, still trying to find the words to keep this conversation going on your side. In the meantime, your silence is interpreted as an opportunity to keep talking by the blue-haired boy.

“I’m gonna sound disgustingly cheesy, but that’s what you do to me. I think I’m in love with you at this point.”

His last sentence goes straight to your aching heart. You are speechless; however, you know that you have to speak before it’s too late and that you start overthinking things and draw yourself out at the last second before you actually get to be completely honest with him and with yourself.

“Daiki?” your voice is low, like it’s struggling to get out of your lips. But you gather all the courage you have in you, understanding that if you stay silent any longer, you might lose him.

 “Can you kiss me?” You finally ask.

His answer doesn’t take long to come. Tan hands are already cupping your face, while the distance between the two of you progressively disappear. His lips finally touch yours, guiding you into something that you didn’t know that you were craving for so long. It feels like your heart is blooming, a wall falling down as you recognize the truth. It is no longer a mystery why you like having him around, or why he always want to be by your side. Everything make sense, and the way your entire self melts under his touch only prove that this is right. He pulls you onto his laps, only covered by the towel, and you can’t make sense of reality as you sink in further. When the kiss comes to an end, you open your eyes, expecting to see something different.

“So, I guess I’m gonna be the one to see you in these undies, huh?”

“Oh, shut up Daiki!”

In appearance, it is the same old Aomine. The arrogant, slightly pervy idiot, that is always in your space. In your heart, however, he is Daiki, the boy that you can’t imagine not having by you at all times.

Because there’s a very fine line between loving someone as a friend, and loving someone as a soulmate, and you two have just crossed the line.

THE RAIN HAS AN EDGE ╰ ﹙ ☁️ ﹚ft. park sunghoon ﹕ a oneshot ﹙ preview ﹚

you are the girl with an umbrella on a rainy day, and sunghoon is the boy at the bus stop drenched from head to toe.

in a nutshell ﹒ there’s a heavy downpour so you hold an umbrella over sunghoon and he looks at you like you’re crazy // 100% fluff

word count ﹒ preview is 1.5k; full ver ~6-7k

fic one of the between the lines series ﹙ coming soon ! ﹚

“true, the sun and the wind inspire. but the rain has an edge. who, after all, dreams of dancing in the dust? or kissing in the bright sun?” — cynthia barnett

now playing ﹒ paris in the rain﹙ lauv ﹚

THE FIRST TIME you talk to park sunghoon, it’s raining, it’s cold, and jake had ditched you to “hang out” with chaewon, because he’s a crappy friend who pounces at any opportunity for female attention.

after your study session in the school library finishes, you find yourself standing at the school’s front entrance, grimacing at the downpour of rain in front of you. heavy pellets pummelled from the sky like bullets, forming puddles in the divots of the ground and lowering the temperature enough to make you shiver. 

lucky for you, you remembered to bring your umbrella.

this was a habit of yours even on the sunniest of days, after spending five days bedridden with a fever following The Great Downpour of 2020.

when you reached for your backpack and unfurled your umbrella, it sprung to life and off you went, hopping down the cement paveway that led to the nearest bus stop.

you’re just about to slip in your earphones when you stop in your tracks, spotting a figure a few steps ahead of you. 

the person is crouching on the ground at the bus stop, hunched over and hugging their bookbag in an attempt at gathering warmth. 

the person is drenched and miserable.

and practically radiating angst and despair.  

because you’ve always been a totally (impulsive) caring and selfless person, you shuffle over and hold your umbrella over the person’s head.

they look up — and just when you encounter a cold gaze, dark brows and raven hair — you realise that the moody figure is none other than park sunghoon.

park sunghoon, the ridiculously good-looking senior everybody whispers about but doesn’t actually know anything about. 

park sunghoon, the guy who always wears a stoic, unsmiling expression that makes him the most unapproachable of his group of friends. 

and park sunghoon, the one who’s staring at you with a baffled and slightly distrustful expression on his face. 

oh.

you’re just standing here, staring at him like a creep. 

crap.

you should say something.

you open and shut your mouth a few times, trying to brainstorm what you might possibly say. you want to sound smart. and funny. and cool. so, naturally, the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a very intelligent and super profound, “it’s, uh. . . raining.”

sunghoon continues to stare, his brows slightly furrowed to suggest he was questioning your sanity. 

“it’s raining,” you stupidly repeat louder, as though he hadn’t heard you over the rain. 

“good catch,” he replies, his gruff voice coinciding with the slight dip of his lips. 

the rumors are so true. 

sunghoon definitely has a very grumpy, rather angsty demeanour. you’ve actually spotted him around school a few times (you may or may not follow him with your eyes every time he’s around. is that a crime? it can’t be! you’re not the only one in the student body who finds him extremely attractive and painfully enigmatic), but he’s not the kind of person you can approach so easily.

in fact, he’s been coined the nickname ice prince for a reason.

“yes, uh,” you struggle to string together a coherent set of words, especially because he stands to his feet now, and you have to make the effort to not be intimidated by his height. 

“what i meant to say is that it’s raining but you don’t have an umbrella,” you laughed awkwardly, wanting to whack your head and yell stupid, stupid, stupid for impulsively waddling over here and saying stupid things to park sunghoon of all people. “i-i mean, obviously it’s a free country and you can totally do whatever you want, but, as you might already know — and i’m sure you do because you’re one of the smartest kids in school — standing in the rain can get you sick, like, really sick, and i only know this because about three years ago i forgot my umbrella and — funny story — i ended up getting so sick that i had to take five days off school because my fever was so high.”

oh god.

you quickly slap the tips of your fingers over your lips to physically restrain yourself from talking. the motion makes sunghoon’s gaze quickly flit to your lips, before they bounce back up to your eyes.

his stare is so painfully emotionless that you cringe inwardly.

you wish he’d say something.

anything. literally anything.

but he’s silent.

well, of course he is — you basically just trauma dumped about your stupid fever story. boo-hoo, you were sick from the rain — who cares?

just when you think you’ve reached the death of the conversation, you’re surprised by the sound of his soft voice.

“. . . niki.”

huh?

you blink, leaning in slightly so that you can hear him better.

“. . . niki. my brother. he took the last umbrella.”

oh.

your lips form a small o as you nod in understanding. “oh, niki! that doesn’t surprise me. he’s in my class, you know, and he’s always playing pranks on our teacher. one time he actually hid the test papers so we got a whole extra day to study,” your voice lowers to a whisper, “can’t believe i still failed it though. . .”

sunghoon doesn’t say anything, and afraid of being submerged in awkward silence again, you rush to fill in the space. 

“so where’s niki now?”

he shrugs. “soccer practice, probably.”

“oh,” you frown. “wait, aren’t you part of the soccer team, too? you’re the goalie. you saved so many goals last season and helped the team to their first win in two years,” you say, though your eyes widen in panic as soon the words leave your mouth, “n-not that i’m a stalker, or anything,” you frantically add, “it’s just that everyone knows you’re the goalie because one, it’s common knowledge, and two, the game is coming up and we’re all on the edge of our seats to find out how it goes!” 

stupid stupid stupid. 

why are you rambling so much? 

sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though his lips flatten in a rather sour manner. “i quit the team, actually.”

you gasp. “you’re the person jake is replacing? he’s been so cocky ever since it was announced that he’d be on the team. what made you quit?”

he shrugs, “it got boring,” he mumbles, then his ears turn slightly red and he dips his head in an emotion you never imagined park sunghoon could wear — embarrassment. “and i accidentally sprained my ankle.”

you blinked in surprise. “how?”

he hesitates before answering. “i tripped.” 

you stifle a laugh at the irony, because while sunghoon was a lot of adjectives — tall, handsome, mysterious, brooding, kind of scary, even — you never thought he was clumsy.

you softly cackle, earning you a glare from the boy. 

“sorry,” you grin playfully, growing accustomed to his icy aura. “i just never pictured you as a klutz.”

“says you,” he grumbles, “weren’t you the one who tripped and fell in the cafeteria last week? ”

“what—” you choked, “you saw that?”

he exhaled through his nose in amusement. “who didn’t?” sunghoon raised a brow at you. “i’m pretty sure someone recorded and posted it. the caption was ‘dumbass fails to do simple task and ends up with food all over her clothes.’”

your eyes slammed shut before they shot open. “fucking jake,” you growled, gripping the umbrella tightly. “i’m going to kill him.”

sunghoon chuckled, and the sound made your heart beat a little faster. you caught a fleeting glimpse of his smile which — by the way — showcased the most emotion you had ever seen from the boy. it couldn’t be helped that your stomach mangled and twisted at his pearly-white boyish smile, one that made his cheeks bunch up his face and his eyes twinkle like stars.

how pretty.

his smile faded as quickly as it appeared, however, and you soon found yourself facing his usual blank expression again. 

you want to try say something that might make him smile or laugh again, but he suddenly steps outside of the cage of your umbrella and raises his hand, hailing down the incoming bus. 

it slowly stops by the road beside the two of you, marking the end of your little interaction. 

“oh, your bus is here,” you force a smile, rather disappointed. “i’ll, um, see you later, sunghoon.”

“get home safe,” he retrieves his bus card from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he boards his bus. “and thanks. for the umbrella.” 

“n-no problem!” you quickly smile, “and by the way, my name is—”

“i know your name,” he interjects, and you think your mind is playing tricks on you when you see the edges of his lips twitch upward. “see you around.” 

sunghoon disappears into the bus and it whizzes by you, though you stay frozen in your feet for what feels like forever. 

he knows your name.

he’ll see you around.

you tuck your lip between your teeth, cheeks and ears flaring up.

get home safe.

if that’s what he truly wants, then yes — you think you can manage that.

( to be continued )

this is a preview only ﹒ full fic is estimated 6-7k ﹒ taglist open — send an ask, dm, or reply !

a/n . btw this is a preview only. the full fic might come out next week ? anyway my first hoonie fic and it's 100% pure, unadulterated fluff <3 this is inspired by paris in the rain + the above quote + an exo fic i adore ^^ hope u all liked it :) see u in the full version maybe ? 🤓