Hello 👋,

IMPATIENT.

𝓢.ㅤ he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?

PSHㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, established relationship, sunghoon pov, awkward ending oops idk how to end stuff, this is a repost cos i accidentally deleted it a while agoㅤ1147 words

sunghoon often gets overwhelmed by his feelings for you. sometimes the love he feels gets to be so intense that he doesn't know what to do, losing the ability to think rationally about anything that has to do with you.

he knew right away that he wanted to be the one to marry you but he held back for the four years and eight months that you dated, waiting until you talked about marriage first. you'd brought it up to him one morning, a simple conversation. one he replayed for weeks.

during those weeks he planned everything; his proposal. he bought a ring, bought tickets to paris (jake's idea—city of love and all that), booked a really nice hotel, and he had a whole itinerary for the day he planned on proposing. he's pretty sure he's going to be in debt for the rest of his life because of these expenses but it's worth it.

when he brought up the trip to you he simply played it off as something for your five year anniversary, it was close enough to the date so you didn't think much of it. five years was a long time so why wouldn't you do something special?

so on thursday morning, you rush to the airport because someone (sunghoon) didn't want to leave your embrace yet. thankfully, you made it on time, sunghoon holding tightly onto your hand to make sure he doesn't lose you in the crowd.

it takes fourteen hours to get from seoul to paris and another hour to drive to the hotel. the flight was.. okay. as good as a flight can be but god was it tiring, you don't think you and sunghoon have ever been as happy as you were to see a bed until tonight.

the next day you take it easy, spending most of it inside your hotel room, briefly stepping out to get dinner at some restaurant nearby. you're walking back, hands swinging back and forth slightly.

"what're we doing tomorrow?"

sunghoon hums, "it's a surprise,"

you knock your shoulder against his, "can i have a hint?"

"nope,"

you groan, throwing your head back while sunghoon smiles fondly at you. he loves you, he knows that. today, though, it feels like it's bigger than love. a lot bigger. you haven't even done anything significant today; it was practically just a regular day. okay, other than the fact that you were at a hotel in paris, but he ignores that part.

honestly, he isn't sure if there's a word deep enough to describe how he feels for you. it feels like he's drowning, sinking deeper and deeper every second that he spends with you and he's okay with that. more than okay; he's happy.

he wants to make you happy, too. he wants to spend the rest of his life seeing your smile and your laugh. he feels a slight wave of anxiety wash over him—what if he messes everything up? what if his proposal turns out to be awful?

he sighs, shaking those thoughts out of his head, instead focusing on you whine about how you need him to tell you what the surprise is. he just laughs at you, pulling out the key to the hotel room.

"i'll tell you tomorrow when we wake up, okay?"

"or now," you smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands instinctively go to your waist.

"i can't, baby,"

"i'm gonna stay up all night thinking about this,"

he leans down, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "yeah, i'm sure you will,"

you don't stay up all night. in fact, you fall asleep almost right away, probably still exhausted from yesterday's flight. sunghoon wishes he could fall asleep as easily as you, but he can't. not when he's proposing to you tomorrow. the presence of the ring hidden inside his suitcase is too suffocating, it's like he can feel it in his hands already.

he pulls you closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. he really hopes that tomorrow will be your last day as simply boyfriend and girlfriend.

he falls asleep after you but he wakes up before you. he's glad that he did because it gives him the opportunity to stare at you. he likes when he wakes up before you; it gives him the chance to see you at your most peaceful, when all the stress from your life is missing.

he shifts, cupping your cheek with his hand, rubbing small circles against your skin. he stares at you for a few seconds longer before leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.

"g'morning,"

he smiles against your skin, "morning, baby. did i wake you up? i'm sorry,"

you groan, pulling away from him so that you can rub your eyes, "no, i was already awake,"

he hums and you sit up, stretching your arms out.

"i didn't forget about the surprise, by the way," you glance towards him, "tell me, pretty please,"

he's quiet when he speaks, licking his lips, "i love you,"

"i know you do. i love you too. is that your surprise?" you lay back down, the two of you facing each other.

"will you marry me?"

he doesn't think before asking you. it forces its way out of his mouth, not giving him any choice in the matter. at first he doesn't care, but soon you can practically see him go though all five stages of grief.

"wait, wait, wait," he presses his hand over you mouth when you begin to speak, "don't say anything. i—god, let me ask you for real. i want it to be special, not something i say randomly,"

you listen to him patiently, waiting for him to stop before pulling his hand away from your mouth, "that was special, silly,"

he gives you a dirty look, "uh, no. i don't think me proposing to you in a hotel bed is special,"

"i think so. it's like.. you really couldn't wait to ask me,"

"i couldn't wait,"

"and i can't wait to answer you,"

he stares at you, taking in your expression. you're smiling at him, a soft smile that he hasn't seen from you before. it's different than all your other smiles, he doesn't know why. this one feels like you can understand the feeling that he has for you; something way beyond love.

"will you marry me?"

you giggle, a grin breaking out onto your face, "can i answer this time?"

he nods.

"mhm, i'll marry you,"

"thank you,"

"you don't have to thank me,"

he smiles, "yeah, i do. thank you for letting me into your life all those years ago and thank you for letting me stay in it," he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours, "i love you more than love."

note. idk why i deleted this hello ... i think i hated it that's why LMAOOO

⋆𐙚₊ 𝐚 ‘𝔀𝓮’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 ‘𝓾𝓼’ ˚⊹♡

downbad!enhypen hyung line x fem!reader content(s): fluff, enhypen being down so horribly, terribly, bad, like whipped whipped for (y/n), (y/n) is sassy and loves to tease, pet names, one profanity, alcohol type: oneshot

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: in which (y/n) doesn’t call them her boyfriend because they haven’t officially asked her to embark on an official courtship˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆ “…you’re gonna be the death of me!”

“don’t you think this would look good on us?” heeseung asks as he lifts up a pair of couple-y beanies and looks at (y/n) expectantly.

(y/n) shifts her gaze between the two before she brings it down. “don’t they look too couple-y?”

“yeah, i mean that’s the point, righ—wait, what do you mean ‘too couple-y?’” the realization hits him late and (y/n)’s already walking out the store, bells hung on the door chiming behind her.

heeseung hastily puts back the beanies, panicky, before he runs out to follow her. “(y/n)! (y/n), wait! what do you mean by that?”

“by what?” the girl monotonously responds.

“there’s nothing wrong with wearing matching stuff, right? aren’t we a couple? or do you not like it?” heeseung worriedly bombards her with questions as he sticks behind her like a tail—almost stumbling entirely when she stops abruptly.

“we aren’t, though.”

“huh?”

“we aren’t a couple,” (y/n) corrects him and his eyes widen as lips gape—frantically moving to stand in front of her when she budges in the slightest.

“are you breaking up with me? please, (y/n). i-i don’t know what it is but i’ll make it up to you! please not like this, no. i don’t want to lose you,” heeseung pleads as his hands shakily grab her shoulders—much too soft to actually say he even put force but the way his fingers curl, securing onto her show that he’s more than ready to latch on for his life. “tell me. tell me what i did wrong.”

(y/n) stares at his face, the desperation and concern paint him so clearly and a guilty sigh leaves her. “we can’t break up if we weren’t together in the first place.”

now confusion settles over him. his brows knitting and doe eyes searching into hers. “what do you—oh.”

and finally putting the pieces together, a loud laugh escapes him while his not-girlfriend frowns, a small pout playing on her lips.

he coos while his thumb brushes over them. “aww, is that what this was all about?”

“heeseung, you—”

“(y/n),” he interjects with his voice laced with so much charm she just can’t refute. an endearing smirk threatens to appear on his face as he cups her cheek—looking down at her with the most tender and sincere gaze. “will you let me be your boyfriend? please?”

the air’s knocked out of the other at his soft little voice that instantly extinguishes any sort of fire in her as she instead, melts into his arms that magically made their way around her waist.

she clears her throat. “yeah, i guess. yeah.”

he finally lets the smirk form as he swoops down and pecks her forehead, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her and he chuckles at her expression. “now let’s get those couple-y beanies to celebrate our official first day as a couple, hm?”

“…yeah,” the girl bashfully replies with cheeks tinted in a shade of pink.

heeseung’s chest tightens at how cute she is to the point it’s hard to breathe and he squeezes her against him—pressing her face into his chest as he resists the urge to just gnaw at her head. “you’re just so—gosh, you’re gonna be the death of me!”

“hee, my makeup!”

the way his nickname rolls from her tongue so casually is music to his ears and he bites his lip, shutting his eyes as his head falls back. “i’m the luckiest person ever to have you as my girlfriend.”

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆ “silver or gold?”

there’s something off. he can’t quite put his finger on it—but there’s something terribly wrong. and it’s not just because of his and (y/n)’s cuddle sessions with her hugs too short to even be called cuddles, or the lack of kisses from her and hesitant acceptance of his or even the way she sometimes cringes at the pet names he uses on her.

but also because of the way she treats him in general. she’s still affectionate—greeting him with the biggest, most beautiful smile, going out for lunch dates with him and paying for his order because “last time you paid for everything” which, in his perspective is mortifying because why?? would she?? do such a thing??

it’s his responsibility—or so he claims—to spoil her as much as possible. he wants to be the one to feed her, buy her all her silly little trinkets and take her out on shopping sprees and carrying all her bags so why?? it breaks him to see her act the way she is.

but at the end of the day, it’s still affectionate, isn’t it? as much as he can’t comprehend it, he sees it as his girlfriend wanting to treat him every once in a while to show appreciation or something—a self-hypnosis, one might say so he doesn’t fall into hysteria.

despite his suspicions however, he says nothing and lets things flow as he takes the opportunity to observe her more, in hopes he can at least make a small conclusion so he won’t upset her by asking the wrong thing.

and today’s the perfect time for it since they’re having another one of their lunch dates. he sits anxiously at their table as he watches (y/n) who’s still at the counter—having bumped with her friend and now she’s accompanying her as she orders.

“is that all you’re having?” (y/n) asks her friend who nods and right after, the former passes the cashier her card—surprising her friend to which she assures her it’s all fine. “no, i insist! after all, last time you paid for everything.”

jay who has been a loyal, attentive audience this whole time instantly feels himself being washed over with dread. small lips parting and hand resting on the left side of his chest as it dawns on him.

all this time…(y/n)’s been treating him like a friend. not a lover. it all makes sense now. the distance she put between them and the affections shown that are always in border between friend and lover but never more to the latter—he sees it now.

“jay? what’s going on?” (y/n) asks from her seat facing him. “you’re zoning out. hello?”

he just had a short circuit and her saying “jay” so simply is only rusting his gears from overtime working.

“‘jay?’”’he echoes with a small frown on his face. “why jay?”

his question baffled her and she emits a small confused yet amused scoff.

“that’s your name? what else am i supposed to call you?”

“baby, bae, darling, honey—” he starts listing out loving pet names and making her gape at his eloquence. she’s not sure if being so knowledgeable in this subject is really useful at all but it’s impressive. “there are so many you can use! just not just my name as it is. we’re not friends…right?”

ding ding ding! finally, the man gets it and (y/n) lets a mischievous smirk play on her lips.

“i’m pretty sure we are, though,” she teases and her date’s jaw detaches, crashing to the floor along with his heart in shards. she giggles and the sound itself revives him, now looking at her with eyes wide and lips pressed expectantly. “i mean, i don’t recall being asked to be someone’s partner so…”

an audible gasp leaves him before he reaches out to hold her hands in his on the table. “my love, i should’ve known. i shouldn’t have left things be unclear between us. so, silver or gold?”

his question confuses her. “huh?”

“for our couple rings. i’m using it to propose to you to be my girlfriend later. so, silver or gold? actually, diamonds will be best, right? you only deserve the best.”

“wait, slow down—”

“how many carats?”

“jay!”

“‘jay???’”

“…sweetie? babe??”

“so much better <3”

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆ “i can even be your doormat!”

it’s not a secret that sim jaeyun is sometimes the embodiment of a human puppy. so it’s not surprising to see him literally following (y/n) around like tail—even before they professed their love for one another.

the only difference now is that he’s much braver in initiating skinship to show his affections like fixing her hair, or cupping her cheeks, drawing circles on whatever part it is that he’s touching on her and even cuddling with her to the point that he’s practically sandwiching her onto the couch with his buried in the crook of her neck.

but he notices something: it’s always been one-sided. and that’s weird. because as far as he knows, one of (y/n)’s love languages is physical touch. but it’s not like she rejects any of his advances, she accepts them all. maybe she’s just not very keen on starting it, but is always up for it.

so he lets it be.

until at one point, it starts to bug him and eat him from the inside out, leaving him shriveled like a wilted flower lacking every single form of nutrient and water—and all the sun’s doing is just drying up every bit of moisture and drawing the life out of him.

“(y/n)…” jake croaks weakly as he crawls onto his phone that he previously threw onto his couch, now only a sliver of the man he once was with his cheeks hollow and lips chapped as his sickness riddles him. a terrible sickness caused by (y/n) deficiency.

the other end of the call rings a few times before the voice of his beloved sings through, instantly energizing him. “hello? jake?”

“(Y/N), I NEED YOUuUuUu~” he howls and (y/n) has to pull her phone away from her ear. “i’m SICK.”

concern fills her quickly after. “sick?? what happened? do you have a fever?”

she’s bombarding him with questions as she hastily puts on her shoes near her main door, ready to leave right after. the pitiful sob from him that follows after only heightens her worry.

“i’m sick…of missing you,” he finishes and (y/n) nearly trips over air just as she’s about to step to the door. “please come over and cuddle…please…?”

his desperate whimpers are just so adorable that it nearly shatters her resolve of playing hard-to-get. nearly.

squinting her eyes and crossing one arm under chest and hooking it to the other that holds her phone to her ear, she then hums questioningly. and gosh, does jake feel like every second is another hour taken from his life span.

“no.”

nevermind. he’s dead now.

“wh-what? what do you mean ‘no?’”

huzzah! he’s been resuscitated. he wants justice.

(y/n) captures her lip between her teeth—holding back her amused chuckles at his cute confusion. “that sounds like a very boyfriend-girlfriend activity, jake. and we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend…”

beep! beep! beep!

he…hung up??

(y/n) gapes and calls him.

“the number you’ve dialed is unreachable…” the automatic machine answers.

again.

“please leave a message after the beep!…”

again.

still no answer.

worry creeps in again as (y/n) slips in her foot back into her shoe which she took off mere minutes ago. just when she stands however, a persistent ringing of her door bell freezes her momentarily.

swinging the barrier between her and the source open, she’s met with surprise to see sim jaeyun, the man himself, down on his knees as he looks up at her with doe eyes glossed over.

“jake! wha—”

“we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend? what did i do? tell me, i’ll fix it!”

“you didn’t do anything!”

“i didn’t? the-then, why?”

(y/n) opens her mouth to answer when she suddenly realizes that him not doing anything is exactly the problem—and her momentary hesitation is enough to have him clasping his hands together in desperation.

“please please please, don’t throw me away! i love you so much, i won’t be able to live without you! please please, pretty princess? PLEASE!”

the girl’s eyes widen at his sudden pleads and she anxiously looks at the other doors in the corridor, hoping her apartment neighbors will disregard the chaos occurring. “jake! jake, stand up! stop doing this!”

“NO! you’re mad at me! i don’t know why but…still! is it because i’m too clingy? because i asked you to come over? sh!t! i should’ve been the one to come over not you! i’ll be better, i promise!”

“what?? no! there’s nothing wrong with that just listen to me and get—”

“NOOOO!! i’m not getting away! i’m not leaving! just keep me by your side! i’ll do anything! i-i can even be your doormat—here! right here!”

the sound of a rattling doorknob triggers (y/n)’s fight or flight and she seizes jake’s wrist that’s conveniently raised—thanks to his howls and pleads of “you said you love me!” and “love me backkkk~” respectively—and she hauls him into her apartment.

jaeyun’s eyes widen at the abrupt motion and he stumbles onto the floor of her house but before he can say anything, a pair of soft lips smash against his—ridding him of every thought as his hands instinctively reach up to cup her cheek and nape.

he limps backwards, now completely against the floor while (y/n) hovers and his vision darkens as his eyes shut—reveling in the addicting sweetness of her taste.

a small whine sounds from him when she pulls away and he chases after her lips—wanting nothing more but to relish in her essence endlessly yet her hand that gently pushes him down by the chest halts him.

she giggles at his dazed expression—his breaths shaky, eyes blown out and half-lidded as he peers up at her. “i do love you, jakey. i just said we weren’t a couple because you haven’t asked me out yet.”

“i haven’t?” he slurs like a drunken man, still on cloud nine from her kiss and his gaze casts frequent glances onto her glistening, rosy nubs. “must have been in my dream then.”

“yeah, must be,” (y/n) chuckles and sits on his lap before hauling him up—instantly getting engulfed in an embrace with his arms coiled around her waist and nose buried in the crook of her neck. feeling ticklish, the girl elicits a few titters which makes him smile against her skin.

“i can’t believe i let my princess feel so frustrated for so long,” he muffles into her. “but don’t worry, i’ll ask you now.”

“i’m all ears.”

“will you marry me?”

“HUH??”

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆ "love me, please"

sunghoon is more emotional of a person than how he seems. he just hides himself well and even when others try their best to push him to the edge, he will never lose his grip on his thread nor walk the plank—able to pull himself up and return to the safe shores.

of course, he’s still human and thus, will never be completely impenetrable. one common weakness among those with strict discipline? alcohol.

“i don’t know why…she doesn’t love me,” sunghoon sobs into his arms as he’s hunched onto the counter and almost slipping off his stool. jake looks down at him before a sigh escapes. he was amused seeing his usually stoic and smiley friend act so sappy at first—but that was 3 days ago and he’s still being it since.

jake pats the other’s pack. “why don’t you ask her? i thought you guys confirmed your feelings for each other?”

sunghoon nods against his arm as a low groan rumbles through him. “we did…but then i overheard her saying to her friends that we ‘aren’t together’ and are just ‘two people who share mutual affections.’”

“maybe you misheard?”

a wail akin to a whale’s call sounds from the drunken lad and jake looks around frantically, embarrassed, and is for once thankful for the blaring DJ remixes that burst people’s ears.

“i didn’t. i heard clearly what she said, that’s why i ran away… i left her there… i screwed up our lunch plans… she’s gonna hate me more! it’s my fault! why did i just—WAAaaAaA!”

once again, his friend finds himself in a fluster, scared that someone’s going to think that a marine creature’s been illegally smuggled into the establishment—causing him to haul the taller lad onto his shoulders and out of the place of business.

“there you go. stay,” jake huffs as he laboriously drops his friend onto the bench outside before pulling out his phone. dialing a number, he then puts the gadget to his ear. “hello? sorry for calling you so suddenly but uh, sunghoon’s kind of in a situation i know you’re the only who can save him from. oh, no! it’s not anything dangerous! it’s just, well…”

after hearing his explanation, it doesn’t take long for the girl to zoom to the club and there, she meets a passed out sunghoon on a cold wooden bench and jake sitting on the edge of his seat—not having enough space due to the drunkard.

“hey, thanks for coming,” the slightly older male says with a smile and nods with gratitude at her. she reciprocates.

“so…you say he’s been doing this for 3 days straight—since he overheard me?” (y/n) confirms and jake’s affirmation elicits a long sigh from her. “dummy hoon. thanks for accompanying him, jake. i’ll take over from here.”

bidding goodbye, (y/n) then approaches the sleeping young man. her heart flutters at his delicate yet sharp visages that simply steal her breath away even when he’s doing something utterly mundane such as sleeping. her hand lifts to cup his cheek, flinching at the coldness of his skin. “sunghoon, wake up. hoon?”

she nearly has a cardiac arrest when the man’s eyelids shoot open and he springs to a sitting position before facing the blanched girl.

“(y/n)!” he exclaims cheerily with the most radiant beam before engulfing her whole against his figure—muscly biceps securing around her frame as she squeaks from the sudden embrace. she chuckles, adoring how he’s still able to be so gentle with her even whilst drunk. “hi, my love~”

the nickname brings a blush to her face that’s already mantling from the cold. “come on, let’s get you to the car.”

as soon as he’s in the passenger’s seat, (y/n) bends down slightly in front of him to secure his seatbelt but pauses when sunghoon’s head drops onto her shoulder—rubbing his forehead against the fabric covering her skin.

“(y/n)…you’re so warm,” he murmurs, eyes shut and lips parted. “if only you were really here.”

his words make the girl’s brows knit. ‘does he think he’s imagining me?’

click! the seatbelt connects and she shuts his door before going to the driver’s seat.

the drive is mostly quiet with sunghoon being drowsy and (y/n) busy with trying to get him home safely but the tranquility is broken by an unexpected monologue by the former.

“i do this again and again just to see you… and you’re always there. but i wake up and you’re gone…always gone,” sunghoon murmurs in his sleepiness, and (y/n)’s fingers tighten around the wheel at his confession—feeling her heartstrings getting tugged. “i love you so much, it hurts.”

(y/n) glances at him, feeling a surge of guilt and swallows dryly. “if the real (y/n) was here, what would you tell her?”

“i’d apologize for canceling our lunch date again. and tHeN! i’d apologize again and tell her i’ll do wAyYyYY better! i’ll be the BEST MAN she’ll ever have!” sunghoon exclaims in an inconsistent rhythm—bursting on some words and calm for the others. “the LAST one too! she’s going to end up with me, i’ll make sure of it.”

his drunken confession affects her more than she thought—butterflies erupting and tickling her from the inside out with their soft, rapid wings.

“oh, really?” she teases, an amused grin worn as she faces the road which isn’t unseen by sunghoon.

his sudden quietness confuses her but soon feels his scrutinizing gaze prickling at the side of her cheek—her peeking at him from her peripheral.

“woah. you’re the best version of (y/n) my brain’s made. you feel and look real…so warm and pretty like how my (y/n) really is… my gorgeous, gorgeous girl… hihihi…” his lovesick bashful giggles from his own comment instantly beats all her favourite music and artists, defeating all her playlists and reigns the throne.

his eyes upturned in a blinding eyesmile as cheeks and nose glow a bright red from both the alcohol and the lovey dovey, giggly mood he’s brought to himself. he’s so cute. a cutie pie.

by the time they arrive at his home, he’s onto his reason number whoever knows on his list of ‘why my-not-but-still-my-girl aka.(y/n) is the best girl.’

he flops on his bed when (y/n) drops him with a large grunt before joining his side in exhaustion. big mistake.

because now she’s caged within sunghoon’s beefy arms and as much as she loves nothing more than to stay in them—suffocate in them even, but he’d never let—she has to go home.

“sung—oof! sunghoon!” she grunts and wriggles in his unbudging grasp and just when she tries to slip through by sliding down vertically and off the edge of the bed, he nuzzles into the side of her head—drawing figures in her hair with the tip of his nose.

“love me, please,” he whispers and that instantly shuts down her motor—now completely still as she slowly turns to him. her eyes dance across his face that’s slightly scrunched and she can tell it’s because of what he overheard her say. he’s thinking about it again.

“i do love you, hoon—so so much that it physically squeezes the air out of me sometimes. i only said what i said because i realized we never made it official and whenever i hinted at you, you just acted like it was nothing. just going with it without accepting or denying anything,” (y/n) explains in a whisper as her finger moves up to trace his features.

freezing suddenly when she reaches his mouth and the corners begin to curl up.

“so i just need to make things official and we won’t just be ‘two people who share mutual feelings together?’” he asks with clarity. the lack of muddled mumbles and dragged words instantly tell the other of his sobriety.

she looks up, taken aback to see him already staring down at her with the most endearing of gazes—shifting between her eyes constantly before letting it dance across her face and back to melting their gazes together.

“i guess so…” she mutters, flustered and belatedly shy from the proximity.

sunghoon catches his bottom lip between his teeth, finding the sight before him simply too adorable and presses a kiss on her forehead. “then, just as i am already yours, will you be mine?”

his concise offer makes her heart skip beats but it still doesn’t compare to hoon’s that’s running a mile a minute, vigorous thumps almost blending into one another and she feels it from the way he hugs her tight.

so much for mr.cool guy act.

“it would be my honour, hoon,” she replies with a cheeky grin and a second later she’s squealing from getting bombarded with butterfly kisses—unknowing of his struggle to keep himself together and not just crush her every bone from the cuteness aggression, finding her to be the loveliest ever.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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guys it turns out if you wanna have fun and be a fun and interesting person you like have to fill your day with fun things and not just rotting in your room …… need a moment to process

the entire party thinks we're dating

cw: 4.5k wc, female reader, sendo registers oliver on one of those rent a boyfriend for a day websites as a prank and you just so happen to need a date for another wedding you really don't want to attend on your own—

When you swing the door open, you can’t help but blink a few times at the sight before your eyes.

“Oh”, you say.

The man staring back with a lopsided smile, hands buried in the pockets of what looks like an expensive suit, raises his brows.

“Oh?”, he parrots, “thought we could start with hello, nice to meet you”.

“Sorry, it’s just…”, you tilt your head, “I get why you’re so expensive. They weren’t kidding with that description”.

When you leave the door open and waltz back into the living room, Oliver takes it as an invitation to come in.

“Can you remind me what that description said?”, the sound of the door being softly pushed closed echoes in the silent room while you’re busy checking yourself out in the mirror above the couch.

“Friendly, tall, incredibly charming, devastatingly handsome. Something like that”.

He smirks, catching your gaze in the mirror.

“And you just validated all that, huh?”.

You click your tongue.

“We’ll see about the friendly, incredibly charming part”.

“Devastatingly handsome it is then, I’ll take the compliment. You look really good in that dress, by the way”.

“Don’t”, you scoff, “you’re too hot to be that much of a clichè”.

He hums, amused.

“Not too hot to tell the truth. You know, for someone so wary, it’s surprising you’d let me pick you up at your place”.

“Not her place”, Chisako’s voice startles him and you sigh, turning to the mirror once more: your hair is being exceptionally stubborn.

“Listen… what’s your name again?”, your best friend eyes him up and down, hands on her hips.

“I’m Oliver”, he replies, seemingly amused. You meet his gaze in the mirror once more.

“Listen, Oliver. You do anything to her, anything, and I’ll kill you. Won’t even go through the fuss of pressing charges, you hear me?”.

“That’s sweet”.

She narrows her gaze.

“You think I’m kidding? Hands to yourself and don’t try anything funny”.

“Hey, just a quick reminder, she rented me”.

“You, don’t talk to my friend like that”, you finally whip around, exasperated, “and you, please don’t scare my very expensive date away yet. I still need him”.

With a scoff, Chisako lightly slaps your finger away from her chest.

“Fine. Share your location and call me if you need anything. Keep your phone with you”, you soften when you read the sincere worry swarming in her eyes and smile.

“Deal. Thank you”, with a deep breath, you grab your purse and take an uncertain step back, “do I look okay?”.

“More than okay, you’re…”.

“Beautiful”.

You both look at him, skeptical.

“You don’t have to do that”.

“Do what?”, Oliver chuckles, “let me guess, you think that was also a lie”.

“Hot and smart? You really are the whole package”, with a scoff, you walk past him and toward the front door, where you slip your very pretty, very uncomfortable heels on.

Still evidently amused, he opens the door for you and offers his arm to walk you down the stairs of the old apartment complex. Chisako waits on the balcony, arms folded and resting on the black railing. You look up and she waves, making you chuckle.

When Oliver leans forward to open the car door for you, you look at him astonished.

“You came… in a porsche?”.

He grins.

“I mean, you did pay for the whole package”.

Right.

“So, we’re gonna need a story, right? Am I your boyfriend or are we just casually dating?”, the smaller space you’re now sharing is ruthless in making you notice the details you couldn’t catch in your friend’s apartment. The man starting the engine and now sitting dangerously close to you smells unfairly good and the deep rumble of his voice, low, intimate, feels as soft as velvet. It almost resembles the purr of a big cat.

“Boyfriend. We met about two months ago and only recently made it official”.

“Sounds good to me”, he briefly glances at you with a smile, “whose wedding is it, anyway?”.

You grimace.

“An old colleague. She’s never gonna buy this but we can do our best”.

“Are you doubting me or yourself right now?”.

With a snort, you gesture vaguely.

“You’re an incredibly attractive guy who drives a sports car. No one at that wedding is going to believe I could bag that”.

“It’s my job to make sure they do”, Oliver clicks his tongue, “besides, I think I’d have a much harder time charming you. I’m pretty easy to bag”.

His absolutely serious tone makes you melt into a chuckle, which he seems to appreciate. Head slightly turned, you focus on his profile for a brief moment. The bridge of his nose, full lips, long lashes. You wonder if he’s using contacts. He must be, right? There’s no way he’d be blessed with those eyes too, among everything else.

“You’re staring”, he mutters, still focused on the road. The playful lilt of his tone makes you shift in your seat.

“You’re nice to look at”.

He huffs out a sound that sounds like a chuckle, both amused and somehow coy.

“How come you ended up on that website? You don’t seem like the type who’d need to rent a man”.

You stay silent for a few seconds, looking straight ahead while lost in your own thoughts. Truth is, you’re not quite sure yourself. It’s true: you’re definitely not the type and, suddenly, the entirety of the absurd situation weighs heavy on your chest.

You’re in a car, with a man you know nothing about, heading to a wedding party where everyone will be able to call your bluff. And you spent an embarrassing amount of money for this, too.

“I think I’m about to throw up”, you murmur.

“Excuse me?”.

“I’m seriously about to throw up. Oh, no. What was I thinking?”, your hands rise to cover your face, “stop the car, please”.

“We’re on the highway”.

“But I’m about to throw-”

“Please stop talking about throwing up, the thought of someone vomiting triggers my gag reflex”, Oliver sends an alarmed glance your way but you’re refusing to meet his gaze, practically bending over in your own seat, “think of the leather seats”.

“I don’t care about your stupid leather seats!”.

“You were fine ten seconds ago-”

“Oliver”, the way you straight out whine his name all of a sudden tucks the words back into his throat, “I don’t even know you. Oh, god, what if you’re a maniac? What if you try to murder me? I’m in a car with a man I don’t know, I spent so much money only to end up dead in a ditch!”.

“Okay, listen-”

“I’m sorry, I know this is a really weird reaction but I’m freaking out big time, I never did this before-”

“Me neither!”.

Your eyes grow in size and your jaw slacks, panic overcoming your features. Oliver clears his throat.

“I mean, I never had to convince an entire audience at a wedding. My dates were always a walk in the park, an afternoon at the mall, one movie, an ice cream on the way home”, he lies so easily it almost makes him laugh. Either way, Oliver slows down and gently stops the car, parking it on the shoulder of the highway.

“Hey”, he tentatively reaches for your wrist, to gently remove one of your hands from your face, “can you look at me? You said I’m nice to look at, no?”.

“You are. Which would make you the perfect murderer”, you whisper. Still, you comply and find an incredulous smile brightening up his face.

“Jesus. Okay, listen, I promise you can trust me. I won’t hurt you. If you changed your mind I can drive you home right now, or drop you off at the venue and leave”. 

“Really?”.

“Really”.

You inhale a deep breath and relax against your seat underneath the weight of his honest, magnetic gaze.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m insane”.

“Believe it or not, I’ve met more insane people”, he smiles.

You lower your gaze.

“It’s just… not something I would usually do. I was really tired of being always the lonely one at weddings and social gatherings, I never let the teasing get to me but I guess I started feeling”, you pause to look for the right word, “vulnerable. I don’t have to prove anything but I was just so sick of it. And this particular colleague is insufferable, she’s been with the guy ever since high school and just kept talking my ear off about true love, soulmates, all that bullshit…”, Oliver laughs and you look up from your lap.

“What?”.

“Nothing”, he raises both hands in mock protection, “keep going”.

You glare at him.

“Well, that’s the story. I was exhausted, drank an entire bottle of wine, found the website, booked the most expensive option because I really wanted to rub it in their faces. Then I almost had a panic attack about it, apparently”.

“The most expensive, huh?”, his blatant smugness makes you groan.

“You know you are the most expensive”.

He doesn’t, really. But it’s surely a pleasant learning.

“Right. Well, I’m ready to be your arm candy and piss the bride off if you’ll have me”, Oliver flashes you another smile, “you know, I’m sure she hired a good glam team but I’m willing to bet my date still looks better”.

“You’re such a flirt”, you smile and idly shake your head, “you know what? Fine. What the hell, I deserve a few hours with a hot dude who says I look pretty. Let’s go piss the bride off”.

He starts the engine again with a pleased hum.

“Please pay more attention, I remember saying you look beautiful”.

“Ugh, they really know what they’re doing on that website”, you laugh, sudden and loud and genuine.

Oliver never thought Sendo’s dumb prank was something he’d resent him for. On the contrary, he decided to go with it just one time, for the sake of having a funny story to share one day.

Now, with the vivacious laughter of the (not entirely sane) stranger currently in his car still ringing in his ears, he knows he made the right decision.

Oliver is not prepared for the way you surprise him.

He has witnessed enough unsettling transformations in his life, hell, he still sometimes becomes another person on the field, but the switch you turn on the second you both walk into the reception is… staggering.

No one would be able to tell you had a breakdown in his car just moments prior to walking into the venue. Watching the way you carry yourself, how you talk to everyone, the confidence embedded in every word and movement is mesmerizing. Makes him doubt of his own sanity because what if he imagined you almost throwing up on his expensive seats?

His thumb idly runs over your knuckles as you introduce him to yet another friend. The boyfriend renting agreement comes with some important rules: the date is to be strictly platonic and there’s a fixed hourly rate which gets higher the more requested a boyfriend is. You briefly discussed some boundaries, to make sure the other is comfortable at all times: Oliver can’t kiss you and you can’t kiss him, but everything else is pretty much allowed. You asked if it was okay for him to hold your hand and he made it pretty clear that it wasn’t a problem, or so the fingers so easily slipping in between yours seemed to suggest. 

You kiss each other’s cheek and rest your heads on each other’s shoulder and your hands are so gentle as they move strands of dark hair away from his eyes. His arm feels solid and comforting around your shoulders, hand warm against the small of your back as he guides you through the garden filled with tables and guests.

Surprising Oliver is not easy but something weird happens when you call him baby for the first time. He wonders how you can make it sound so natural, where you learned to be a liar good enough to have your eyes sparkle like that, on demand. He’s there to have a fun story to share but he’s also supposed to do the work, to do what’s expected of him. Instead, it feels like you’re pulling the strings and all he can do is try to stay afloat within your current.

He surprises you too. When a few guests gather around you two, wonder shimmering in their eyes, friends asking where you even got to meet a pro soccer player, you look at him as shocked and rightfully confused as a fake girlfriend would be.

“She asked if she could get a jersey signed for…”, Oliver searches your gaze in silent demand and you clear your throat, still flabbergasted.

“Kenji”, you offer an easy smile.

The man standing on Oliver’s left, supposedly Kenji himself, gasps.

“Right, Kenji”, Oliver smiles too, “I told her I would only sign it if she went on a date with me”.

“He has that romantic blackmail thing about him, I fell for it instantly”, you ever so slightly narrow your gaze and, in response, he tightens his hold around your waist.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us tickets to some games?”, another one of your old colleagues, Yoshio, pouts.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us the numbers of some pro soccer players?”, your friend Yumi practically shoves Yoshio out of the way and you finally relax, melting into genuine laughter.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess we can still make that happen, right, baby?”, there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes when you look at him. He thinks he might get used to being looked at with such daring playfulness.

“Sure. Shuto’s always happy to go on dates-”

“Sendo Shuto?”, Yumi’s eyes get as big as saucers. This time, Oliver laughs with you.

It shouldn’t come as a shock that he’s good at what he does but you still can’t quite believe just how talented he is as a fake boyfriend. You’re aching to ask questions, the entire dinner spent wondering what on earth a famous pro soccer player is even doing on a rent a boyfriend website. Nothing gets past social media these days, wouldn’t that be news eventually? How does he keep it a secret? Is it a second job, a weird fetish?

Akane’s never been particularly traditional from what you can recall but her husband really wanted to incorporate as much traditional customs as possible in their celebration. You sit through course after course of plates and bowls filled with delicious dishes: clear soup with shrimp cake, sashimi, grilled fish glazed with sweet miso, tempura, red rice. All the while Oliver, ankle hooked around yours underneath the table, makes perfect conversation with everyone. He has an answer ready to each question and you pretend to ignore both your colleagues’ and Akane’s bewildered, inquisitorial gazes directed at you from tables away, too busy reciprocating your date’s honeyed praises and smiles.

He gets you alone in between courses, right as everyone is either taking a break or bringing the dancefloor to life before fruit and cake are served. They won’t buy it if we don’t pull away from the crowd for a little bit.

It’s why Oliver currently has you pressed against a retaining wall in a more secluded but still strategically visible part of the garden, body towering over yours and so close you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his white shirt.

“A pro soccer player”, you click your tongue, “care to explain?”.

“Relax your shoulders”, he murmurs and smiles, pleased, when you comply right away, “I owe you a date, not explanation”.

You deflate a bit and Oliver curls further over you.

“Fine, keep your secrets”, a pause, “won’t this be a problem if someone takes some pics and leaks them, though?”.

“I stopped caring about that stuff long time ago. But I can have everyone here sign an nda to protect you from it, just say the word”.

You shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’m not really on social media and we’ll split up by tomorrow, anyway”.

“Aw, you’ll break my heart”, one of his hands rises to rest on the side of your neck, thumb softly tracing your jaw, “even after validating how friendly and incredibly charming I am. So cold”.

There’s something about him, a stranger you paid to pretend to be your boyfriend for the sake of not attending yet another wedding alone. It’s odd and has your heart thumping in your chest, something behind your ribs catching fire whenever his fingers graze your skin so intentionally. You wonder if this is really him, if he’s the person you feel so inexplicably drawn to. If there’s a chance of you not being stupid enough to be attracted to a faux boyfriend with a carefully crafted, fictitious personality.

“Make it look like you’re kissing me”, you ignore his teasing for the sake of your sanity and slightly tilt your head up to meet the dangerous glint of mismatched eyes. Oliver lowers his head and tilts it slightly to the side, lips moving against your cheek when he speaks again.

“Put your arms around my neck”, he orders back in a murmur. Your scoff makes him chuckle as he pretends to not notice how you shiver against him.

“This is such a weird side job to have”, your embrace pulls him closer, or maybe it’s the lightest brush of your lips against his chin. When your fingers start carding through the green hair at the base of his nape, he exhales.

“Maybe it’s not a side job. Maybe I’m just here for you, just this once”.

You idly brush your nose against his cheek, a feeling warm and treacherous unfurling in your chest. He pulls back enough to lock your gaze to his once more, still so intense despite being concealed by the partial darkness of this particular corner of the garden. He is so unfairly beautiful. Not far from where you stand, guests are laughing and drinking and dancing, some of them no doubt looking at you two. It’s striking, how little they suddenly matter.

“Maybe that makes me lucky, then”, you whisper, lean into his touch when his other hand cradles your cheek. Oliver gently holds your face in his hands, seemingly conflicted as his gaze falls on your lips. You tilt your head back to give him a better view.

An absurd thought takes shape in a far corner of your mind: will this truly be the one and only time you’ll get to see him? Not that you’d ever be pathetic enough to rent a man from a website multiple times. Let alone the same man. It’s such a weird, ridiculous thing to be disappointed by. You wonder if it’ll rival the disappointment of not being kissed by him.

Oliver wets his lips, the pink flash of his tongue alluring in a maddening way. Your head spins. You don’t recall ever feeling such unusual torment before.

And then, finally, finally, he leans closer.

“Hey, lovebirds!”, Akane’s cheerful tone makes you both jump and you bring a hand to your chest as Oliver takes a wobbly step back, “we didn’t have the chance to chat, are you having fun?”.

She’s not talking to you at all, attentive gaze set on the man next to you.

“Everything’s perfect, thank you for having us. I wish you both everlasting happiness”, you smile, a little tense.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. One almost wishes he was around for all those office christmas parties, right? Remember how you were always the only one to show up alone?”.

You clear your throat, shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I remember. Always alone and yet still the funniest person in every room, without fail”, with a wink, you hope to conceal the soreness caused by her ungenerous words.

Akane hums.

“I still wonder why that’s such a great coping mechanism…”

“It proves she doesn’t need a man to have a personality”, Oliver straight out grins, one hand comes to rest on your nape and gives it a gentle squeeze, “it’s what I like about her”.

She raises her brows in interest.

“Well, that’s true. She’s pretty great”.

“Yeah, she is”.

You relax under his touch and a strange thrill comes with it, with knowing he possesses the ability to make you feel at ease. He doesn’t exactly dislike such knowledge.

“I’m glad you have each other now”, Akane’s features soften, “maybe one day I’ll be invited to your wedding!”.

You cough, embarrassed.

“Let’s not go overbo-”

“Maybe!”, Oliver chimes in once again, jovial, “who can tell?”.

It almost makes you choke on air. When you look up at him, Akane’s cheerful laughter echoing in the sweet summer evening air, he’s already looking at you.

As you stumble back to join the other guests, heels sinking in the soft grass, the bride gently grazes your arm with the pads of her fingers before rejoining her husband and their closest friends. You know Akane is not a bad person, her words don’t hold any actual venom despite stinging. In her own way she means well, which is why you are so genuinely happy for her. She got the happy ending she was always destined to have. It’s just that not everyone is as lucky and it’s unfair to expect them to be just because she’s part of the chosen ones.

“Where are you going?”, Oliver hooks a finger in the low square back of your dress to pull you in, the contact setting something similar to a flow of electricity running along your spine.

“To eat cake?”, you easily dissimulate. He keeps his finger there, even when you stop in your tracks.

“Let them”, he winks, “may I have this dance?”.

You stay frozen.

“Did you just casually quote Marie Antoinette to me?”, is all you can come up with because, frankly, the idea of a man who already possesses so many blessings being also able to dance is a little too unfair.  

“Can’t a man be hot and educated?”, he grins, then finally releases the back of your dress by letting the stretch fabric lightly slap against your back, “don’t think you can distract me, let’s go”.

If there’s one learning to be taken from this impossibly strange evening is that, apparently, there is no escaping Oliver Aiku. He even rivals the promise of a rich serving of white chocolate almond cake with raspberry filling.

He pulls you close on the interlocking parquet dance floor rented by the newlyweds, hands splayed big and warm on your hips as your arms, for the second time, find their way to rest around his neck. You do your best to not feel intimidated by the excessively romantic, slow track everyone else is currently dancing to as well.

Then, it’s as if a spell is cast on you. Or rather a curse.

“Who is he?”, the question surprises you and your eyes find his. Oliver is so close and he smells so unethically good.

“Who?”, yet you struggle to keep your focus, attention oscillating between the stranger you’re currently pressed against and a more familiar face your wandering eyes keep searching, dancing not far from you. Something painfully throbs in your chest.

“The man you keep looking at, who is he?”, Oliver asks softly, almost caringly.

“My ex-boyfriend”, the confession isn’t but a low whisper, “I think. I think he’s here with the woman he cheated on me with. Well, one of them, anyway”, your chuckle is bitter. It distorts the joyfulness of the evening, the mere sight of them suddenly staining, polluting every positive feeling you’ve been able to feel until now.

And then Oliver is grasping your chin, tilting his head to effectively block your view of them. You’re forced to look at him and only him, to focus on how his thumb skating over the skin underneath your bottom lip feels.

“How about you keep your eyes on me, then?”, he whispers.

“Sorry”, you stop yourself with a sigh when your gaze slides once more, “I’m sorry. It’s really stupid”.

“What is?”, his gaze, perhaps involuntarily, falls on your lips, “caring? Feeling hurt?”.

“Don’t do that”.

“What?”.

“Don’t… like, I know this is an act. But you don’t have to do that too, pretend to care. You’re a little too good at it and it confuses me”.

Oliver lets go of your chin and offers a faint smile.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you confuse me too”.

You blink a few times, taken aback. He gracefully takes one of your hands from behind his neck and lifts your arm above your head to twirl you. For a moment, his eyes appreciate the airy swirl of the hem of your dress.

“I’m only pretending to be your boyfriend”, everything else feels a little too real, he wants to add. Maybe you’ll read the unsaid in eyes he can’t seem to be able to keep on anything else but you.

“You have a gift”, with a smile, you choose to deflect, “ever thought of giving up the soccer career?”.

“For this, you mean?”, Oliver goes from having his hands on your hips to hooking his arms around your waist, effectively caging you against him. Your forehead grazes his and the wind is swiftly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden proximity.

“Something like that, yeah”, one of your hands toys with his green strands once more, nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. A sound of contentment vibrates low in his throat and it makes you want to pull him close, impossibly closer.

He tilts his head to the side and you feel dizzy because his lips are ever so slightly brushing against yours. Not quite touching them, never kissing them, just there as a faint reminder or rather an intoxicating promise.

“You have to go in about five minutes”, you whisper, perhaps for the sake of feeling more of his mouth so close yet still too far from your own.

“Mm?”, he only manages to let out a confused sound.

You let your nose brush against his own. Playfully, daringly.

“I could only afford a couple hours, not the entire night”.

Oliver welcomes the implications of your admission with a low chuckle.

“And if I stay?”.

“I may be too broke for that”.

He presses a kiss to the very corner of your mouth. Sweet, fleeting. Determined.

“My treat”.

He can keep it platonic for about five more minutes.

[ sakusa kiyoomi ]

considering your boyfriend made it pretty clear on several occasions that he hated valentines, you weren’t surprised he made no move to even contact you during the day. you were slightly disappointed due to the fact that you loved the day, sure, but it wasn’t fair to place your disappointment on him when you knew what you were getting yourself into due to the years of friendship before dating, so you didn’t dwell much on it.

you had asked previously if you two would meet tonight and when he mumbled a response about how he would probably be practicing late, you took over your co-workers shift to save yourself the boredom of being home alone while consecutively giving her a chance to see her partner, earning multiple ‘thank you!’s and a promise that she will take your shift whenever as she rushed out, prompting you to smile.

you loved valentines.

you didn’t have a solid reason on why you did, but you didn’t need one. you loved being surrounded with red heart balloons and roses wherever you walked and you loved the glee on people’s faces as they celebrated the day with their beloveds. it made you feel warm every time despite your plans or status and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched a boy blush furiously as his girlfriend handed him flowers, giggling quietly with a love-dazed face.

the obnoxious bell ringing against the glass door made you turn to the costumers walking in, your smile widening just slightly as you saw osamu and atsumu bickering as they approached the counter until their eyes landed on you and widened just the slightest, atsumu gasping. “yer working today?!”

“yeah,” you mused, placing your chin on your palm. “you’re both spending valentines together?”

they both shot you a glare that only caused your grin to widen, placing their usual orders down on the system either way. osamu grunted. “he finished his date early and went over to have a mental breakdown at my restaurant.”

atsumu gaped at him for a few seconds in pure betrayal as you let out a quiet snicker before he shot his twin a harsh glare. “at least i had plans!”

osamu gave him a glare back. “they are out of town, you little—“

“please don’t scare my costumers away,” you retorted, cutting them off. they both huffed, avoiding eye contact before their eyes landed back on you and atsumu raised an eyebrow.

“what about ya? plans ended early?”

“there were no plans,” you shrugged casually, adding extra syrup into osamu’s drink while catching the discreet way his eyes lightened up at the action. “kiyoomi hates valentines.”

atsumu frowned. “but ya love valentines!”

you hummed, sliding osamu’s drink over. “so? i don’t have to spend it with him against his will to be happy.”

osamu stared at you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown that matched his twin’s. “yer too nice. so, where is he today?”

you shrugged. “told me he was practicing.”

they both shared a look before looking at you and speaking in sync. “when do you get off? we’re taking you out.”

you smiled as you slid atsumu’s drink over, stating that the drinks were on the house when they attempted to pay before telling them that you only had a few minutes left. as you finished the last bit of your shift, you could hear them checking with their partners that it was okay and you couldn’t help but silently melt at how cute their relationships were as you waited for the last costumer to leave and closed up, shrugging your jacket off before calling out for them.

the rest of the day was nice. the three of you bought over-priced cupcakes and ate them in a dark playground, half the time spent with you laughing in amusement while they argued while the other half was spent with the three of you gossiping about drama suna had shared. they even bought you a red heart-shaped balloon and you almost teared up as you gleefully accepted it, thanking them frantically as they walked you to the door of your apartment building.

“can i do something before ya leave?” atsumu grinned mischievously and you snorted as you nodded, interested to see what his plan was. he simply got out his phone, making you stand between the twins before he snapped a selfie of the three of you, making sure to capture osamu’s small smirk, the balloon and his poked-out tongue before he beamed. “sent!”

you raised an amused eyebrows as osamu snickered. “you sent that to kiyoomi?”

“yeah, told him we stole ya.”

you laughed as you bid them your goodbyes and made your way up to your joined apartment, humming your favorite song under your breath softly. you assumed your boyfriend was still practicing, so you were pleasantly surprised when you unlocked the door and the lights were all on, your boyfriend’s shoes in their usual spot.

“kiyoomi, i’m home!” you called out after a sleepy yawn, expecting to get a simple ‘in our room!’ or anything back. instead, your boyfriend walked out of the hallway with furrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“you were with the miyas?”

“hm? yeah.” you hummed, placing your stuff down on the coffee table, too sleepy to notice the way he was practically sulking. “they came before my shift ended and decided to take me out. when did you arrive?”

he huffed as he dragged himself over, strong arms pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face into your neck. you smiled softly, your hands moving to lock into his hair as you hugged him even tighter. he hummed softly. “i missed you, how was your day?”

“it was nice,” you murmured quietly, enjoying the warmth he provided. “i love valentine’s day.”

he froze. you obliviously continued.

“the café was super busy, but it was nice seeing everyone on dates, you know? there were a lot of roses as well and it’s just so heartwarmin—“

he pulled away quickly, eyebrows furrowed deeply. “you… you love valentines?”

“hm?” you blinked. “yeah? it’s my favorite holiday.”

“you love valentines?”

you let out a small laugh at how cute he looked when he was confused. “of course i do. everyone knows i do, kiyoomi, how did you never notice?”

he tugged his hands into his hair. “how did i not notice— why didn’t you tell me you loved valentines?”

you shrugged calmly, not seeing the issue, and your nonchalance only seemed to make him even more distressed. “you hate valentines so i didn’t see why i should mention it, you know? i didn’t want you to force yourself to plan anything or do anything for me.”

he stared at you for a few seconds before he fell back on the couch, burying his face into his hands and mumbling muffled words before he let his hands fall down and frowned. “you’re an awful human being.”

you were too amused to take offense as you shrugged a few of the thick layers you wore off. “why am i an awful human being, my love?”

“how can you not tell me you love valentines? i would have taken a day off and i would bought you those stupid overpriced flowers and those overpriced chocolates you would hate and we could have spent the entire day together and—“

“you don’t like valentines.”

“yeah, but i love you.” he huffed. “i love you and i want to make you happy.”

“i’m always happy with you,” you assured, slightly entertained. “i promise. why do you seem more upset about us not spending this together than me?”

“because i was under the impression that you also hate valentines,” he muttered as exhaustion finally seemed to take over, his drooped shoulders and pout causing the almost 6’3 professional athlete to seem like a child. you took the seat beside him and he immediately laid his head down on your lap, huffing. “i didn’t know you liked it. i would have planned the best day if i knew you did, i promise.”

“you keep missing the point, my love.”

“what’s the point of anything if i ruined our first valentines together?”

“you’re such a drama queen,” you snorted softly, running your hands through his soft hair as he blinked sleepily. “the point is that i don’t need to celebrate valentines with you to be happy, kiyoomi, and you not buying ‘overpriced flowers’ won’t make me love you any less. i knew what i was getting myself into when i started dating you, i don’t want you to change and i genuinely don’t mind.”

his cheeks flushed, but he still sulked. “whatever, i’m taking you out next year.”

“or… we can stay in and order takeout? how’s that?”

“i’ll buy a stupid bouquet too.”

you grinned at his sleepily grumbles. “you can buy me a stupid bouquet then. you can even buy me stupid chocolates too, how’s that?”

“i will,” he mumbled determinedly, eyes finally shutting. “i love you so much, i’m sorry.”

“i love you and you have nothing to be sorry about, my love.” you promised, leaning to kiss his forehead. you only got a soft snore in response, your grin widening.

you truely couldn’t wish for a better valentines.

—

pouty sakusa supremacy :p anw valentine ended 22 minutes ago for me but yolo ! hope you enjoy this one :)

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

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boyfriend texts.

엔하이픈 니키 ୨୧ idol ！female reader social media fluff established relationship + cw. mention of kissing mention of skinship no stated timestamps ( other )

was supposed to post this after his aotm but i already know he did great ! >0<

can tumblr stop showing me fanfics about things im no longer interested in 😭😭 im not even following tags related to them wtf

synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER.

NRKㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . established relationship, suicide jokes, yn never changed his contact name poor riki, kinda corny soz, on the fifth slide it's supposed to say i'll tell my mom on her i forgot to type out tell bye.