San's Baby Muva 🖤

♡ she/her | late 20s | black atiny | simp of fictional men | stay awhile, fellow weirdos ♡

[uchihabbynic]

-`♡´- welcome to my brain rot - minors, DNI!

call me Nic

updated my anime only blog to include kpop - ult group is Ateez ♥︎

♡‧₊˚ baby atiny , poc - so please keep your racist bullshit to yourself bc I won't be the bigger person（。ˇ ⊖ˇ）

anime lover, simp by nature ; one piece, jjk, aot, naruto and bleach enthusiast ᰔᩚ

let's be friends! i dont bite ♡

-`♡´- anime masterlist

one piece

naruto

bleach

[minchns]

YUNHO ✦ BST HYDE PARK

[wittyjasontodd]

You already know…

Need that dick in fact I crave it

[makeitworse]

KISS ME

in which you’ve always been yunho’s only choice — even if he’s never been yours.

♬ xo (only if you say yes) enhypen pairing: yunho x f!reader words: 9.8k warnings: unrequited feelings (or are they), he’s embarrassingly down bad, angst, jealousy, weed, alcohol, vomit mentions, brief mingi x reader, smut with handjob, fingering, unprotected sex lovemaking, 18+ mdni

notes: this fic is double the length i was intending… i have a big GROSS crush on this man can u tell🫩

YUNHO CUSSES UNDER HIS BREATH, KNEECAP JOLTING WITH PAIN. he hadn’t even realised that for the last ten minutes his leg has been restlessly bouncing as if it was about to run away, not until his knee came into contact with the wooden table and knocked over his forgotten drink — a red plastic cup filled with some bitter motor oil, shoved into his hands by san with a shout that he needed to “lighten the fuck up.”

it’s done nothing to cease the anxiety buzzing under his skin, coiled tight in his chest — matters only made worse by that singular bong rip he did about an hour ago. his mouth still feels dry, throat still hoarse from the embarrassing coughing fit he had in front of the entire circle. 

when you pulled him over to the designated smoke corner by the wrist, flashed him that adorable smile of yours, yunho denied the offer only once before that smile fell into a pout — and all of the sudden he was filling his lungs with smoke for the sole purpose of impressing you. 

the opposite effect was had, unfortunately. 

the party had barely started for either of you — both yet to even greet the birthday boy — and here you were stuck at yunho’s side, patting his back as he wheezed through gulps of water, insisting that you’re ‘right where you want to be’ each time he apologised for ruining the mood. 

still, he watched the way you swayed along to the thumping music in your seat, longing to be on the dancefloor instead of sitting here with your weak puss of a best friend. parties have always been more of your scene than his. the only reason he ever comes these days is just to be your plus one. at least, until you find someone else.

someone who can match your energy better. in more ways than just dancing and drinking. 

yunho insisted that you leave him to go actually enjoy the party, and it was met with little resistance from you before you’re hopping out of your seat and practically skipping over to the crowd. yunho kept his eyes trained on you, watching as you bump into wooyoung and give him a side-hug before disappearing into the sea of dancing bodies. 

wooyoung’s eyes flit across the room, searching knowingly until he lands on yunho, then giving him a thumbs up and a nod — a wordless promise that he’ll keep an eye on you. 

see, everyone who knows yunho, knows you. and they also know that he’s been in love with you since the day you first named him a friend. 

what they don’t know — or rather, what they can’t wrap their heads around — is why yunho has gone this many years without so much as a word to you regarding his real feelings. he’s watched you make out with strangers at clubs, take his own friends home at parties, been your shoulder to cry on through your breakups with men who aren’t him. 

the simple fact is, yunho values your feelings over his own. a million times over, and then some more. if he’s not who you want, who you choose to feel that way towards, then how could he be so selfish as to ruin your friendship by trying to make it something it’s not?

it’ll always be you for yunho. even though, for you, it’s anyone but him. 

yunho heaves a sigh. he winces as he rubs his knee, sure to find a bruise there in the morning. grabs his half-spilled drink, downs the rest of it and immediately regrets it as a gag seizes his throat. if he lingers too long on the thought that he wants someone this bad with nothing in return, he’ll make an even bigger idiot of himself here when the tears start to run down his face. 

yunho’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a welcome interruption from his racing thoughts. 

reading the notification though — the anxious churning in his gut curdles into a sinking pit of nausea. 

Wooyoung: might wanna come get your girl, song mingi’s about to be balls deep in her ass 

Wooyoung: uh oh! think i just heard a queef 🥹

Yunho: Thanks man.

he mentally cusses his useless friend out, but he quickly reels himself back in with the reminder that he’s got no right feeling jealous over someone that owes nothing to him. besides, wooyoung only ever offers to just watch you, not interfere with any of your…endeavours. 

yunho grimaces when he stands, his legs lighting up with pins and needles from how he’s been glued to this stiff fucking chair for an hour. clenching his teeth and pushing through it, yunho shoulders his way through the crowd, peering over all the bobbing heads to find wooyoung. 

his eyes quickly hone in on a mess of red hair with roots desperately needing a touch up, tucked into the neck of a taller, much broader man. 

“san!” yunho calls out through the thick bass in the air — knowing wooyoung probably won’t hear him with his tongue leeched onto san’s pulse. 

wooyoung and san have been friends for as long as you and yunho — except, they quickly established the mutual attraction and have been happily dating since. in comparison to yunho, who…erm, has been warming the cuck chair ever since you lost your virginity to his high school lab partner. 

san peers at him through narrow slits, giving yunho the ‘what’s up’ nod men do and patting on his boyfriend’s back. wooyoung raises his head, looking offended over the interruption. 

“where is she?” yunho shouts over g-dragon’s voice booming through the speakers telling everyone to get their crayon.

wooyoung tilts his head, pointing with a jut of his chin. “riding mingi.” 

the joints in his neck audibly crack when yunho whips his head in the direction — then the world narrows down to just you. your body as it rolls and sways, pressed flush up against a man he can barely register; hypnotised by the grinds where your hips connect, the gropes where your hands fall. wondering how it’d feel on his own skin.. 

“she’s had too much.” san rudely interrupts, practically roaring over the music into yunho’s ear. “mingi’s been pouring everyone’s drinks. he was supposed to make sure no one got too fucked up but…” 

“—got a bit distracted trying to get himself fucked.” wooyoung cuts in with a snicker.  

bile burns yunho’s throat, sharp and hot. his entire body tenses. subconsciously he clenches his fists, just from the anger of a man that’s not him thinking of you that way — touching you that way, but the couple behind him notices, trading cautious glances. 

“think it’s about time you take her home..” wooyoung claps yunho on the back. “we’ll stick close by. for support.” 

san cuts his boyfriend a ‘play nice’ look. wooyoung shrugs, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing at the burn. 

with that, yunho bulldoses through the path of people until it’s him, you and mingi all standing in a cramped triangle. you’re both looking the opposite direction, but when you register the new presence at your back and glance over your shoulder, your glossy eyes instantly light up at the sight of your best friend. it breaks his heart just a little bit at how you make no move to detach yourself from mingi, only smiling at yunho while you’re wrapped up in another man’s arms. 

“having fun?” you shout at yunho, which also gets mingi’s attention. he gives your best friend a once over, lips slowly dragging down in a scowl. 

you’re enjoying yourself so much, it nearly hurts yunho to have to rip you away from the fun and end your night for you. but the burly man you’ve currently found yourself dryhumping on the dancefloor has let you mix far too much alcohol with the weed in your system, and probably won’t relent so long as he can lure you into sharing his bed. if you weren’t so fucked up, yunho wouldn’t have even interfered — wishing you the best like a good friend should, ignoring the pain in his heart as you get off to hands that aren’t his and he gets off alone. 

“it’s time to call it a night,” yunho replies to you, tone gentle even as he strains to talk over the music.

“what?!” you shout back, obviously crossfaded and so fucking gone. how does mingi feel okay with trying to fuck you in this state?? yunho gives wicked side-eye to the other man, before realising that mingi’s moving just about as sober as you are..

“you’ve had enough,” yunho tells you, changing his tone to like he’s explaining to a child. “i’m taking you home now, okay?” 

even in your half-conscious state, you pout — knowing that it’s a surefire way to bring yunho to a heel. and it’d work, any other time. it almost does this time. but yunho wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let you go in this state.

he reaches for your arm, just tugging lightly to get you to budge. mingi scoffs loudly, pulling you closer into his stupid perfectly toned chest. 

“yah, are you her boyfriend or some shit?” mingi furrows his brows at him, like a shit stain on his white air forces. “it’s over. she wants this now, man.” he adds, gesturing down to his crotch. 

if he was standing any closer, yunho’s sure you’d be able to hear the way his confidence falls to his feet, even over the music and mingi’s baritone voice. 

he’s so caught up in overwhelming hatred for this guy, he doesn’t register the way you shove mingi a little. yunho’s staring at him, mingi staring straight back. 

yunho addresses you by name, holds out his hand. “we’re going.”

mingi groans. “bro, just fuck off.” 

you look between the two men, though your gaze is so distant that you probably don’t even understand the language they’re speaking. 

mingi gets in his face, walks the slightly taller man down until his back’s bumping into the people dancing behind him. 

yunho can’t feel anything other than ringing in his ears, the bass pounding in his chest. he’s never gotten into a fight — nothing serious outside of like, a middle school playground at least, but yunho braces for one anyways. he thinks he could hit this guy. whatever happens, you’re not leaving with him.

it’s part protectiveness, which he’ll wear proudly on his chest. part jealousy too, which he’ll admit only to himself.

he never wants to get in the way of the choices you make, act like some kind of saviour for his own selfish agenda. but he won’t lie and say he takes no joy in stopping someone else from having you in all the ways he dreams of. just this once. 

“yah! you two — stop trying to fuck in my living room!!”

hongjoong’s voice rings out over the speakers, the birthday boy’s brows drawn and face cross at how you’re both about to make a ruckus at his party. the crowd steps to the side for his little, angry frame stomping over, his hips swaying even more pronounced than normal because of the mixture of substances in his system. yunho catches wooyoung standing amongst the parted crowd, offering a guilty shrug. no doubt he warned their host about the incoming brawl before it could start. 

“what’s going on here?” hongjoong has both hands on his hips as his head whips between the two men standing too close for comfort. “mingi, where were you when i needed a drink?! yeosangie offered to pour me one instead and he dropped the fucking bottle.”

his boyfriend seonghwa appears behind the tiny ball of fury, strutting like he came straight from a runway as he always does. his face holds no emotion, save for an intimidating glare in his eye.

you link arms with yunho, evidently sobered up enough to read the situation — and his entire side lights up with heat under your touch. 

“we were just leaving.” you insist, suddenly itching to be anywhere but this dancefloor for the first time tonight. 

hongjoong keeps raving on about how you haven’t even tried the cake yet, while mingi’s pulled away in the other direction by seonghwa, whispering in his ear (doesn’t look like anything nice..)

you tried your best to appease the birthday boy enough to get his blessing for you and yunho to leave — though he’s too in his head to focus on any of it, caught up and smiling at himself over the fact that you chose him. 

—

yunho grips the steering wheel a little tighter each time he forces himself to not check you out. you’re slumped against the seat, head lolled to the side and wind whipping at your hair, skimpy top just barely hanging on by the thin straps on your shoulders. 

his knuckles are pale at this point. 

he won’t disrespect you, especially not while you’re barely..there. but you look so pretty. you always do. just, he has to focus on the road right now and you’re not helping. 

there’s also the fact he’s over the fucking moon that you ditched a hook-up for him (admittedly a really attractive one at that, too). instead of any other man getting to have you in his bed, you’re sitting pretty in yunho’s car, watching cars pass by out the window. 

he’s got it rolled down for you, and keeps making sure that you’re facing to the window in the case that you have to throw up. it’s happened before… you were sitting in the back, squeezed in between wooyoung and jongho, then no warning before you ruined his car floor and their shoes. 

yunho cleaned up your mess on a sickeningly humid summer day, while jongho watched and made fun of him for being such a simp. 

that’s just the lengths he goes to, being in love with you. 

it’s why he lets you slump all your body weight on him as he helps you out of the car and into his house. sets you down on the couch like you’re made of porcelain, fetches you a bottle of water and a bucket (just in case..), tucks you into his wool spiderman blanket that you always claim when you’re over.

yunho sits on the leg-end of the couch, watching you down the bottle in record time and let your vision go out of focus staring at the ceiling. no doubt your head must be spinning from the comedown. he knows he should probably let you rest, but he can’t bring himself to leave you just yet. he’s already been selfish tonight, so what’s one more little thing? 

he’s not sure how fast time goes by as he sits there in silence. counting the lashes on your eyes, watching each rise and fall of your chest. waiting for you to need him again. you were both just at an entire lively party, but yunho thinks this is the most happy he’s felt all night. 

eventually, he feels his own eyelids getting too heavy for each blink, and decides it’s a sign to finally let you sleep. 

“i’ll get you some more water, and then it’s bed time i think.” yunho says, going to stand. 

“wait—” your hand flies out from under the blanket, reaching for his wrist to stop him. “don’t go.”

yunho blanches at you. you’ve said little to nothing since climbing into his car, and the next words he thought he’d hear from you weren’t anything close to that. he figured you may have even been asleep already. 

he says your name softly, a question. 

you tug his wrist a little tighter. “please.” 

yunho’s sitting next to you within seconds, even scooting a bit away since he sat right against you in his haste. he knows he shouldn’t get ahead of himself — you just want him to stay, nothing more. 

all that reassuring himself is for nought when you just.. wrap yourself around his arm. you kind of push him into the couch’s back, nuzzling your head into his shoulder while his own stares at the ceiling in shock. 

you’ve hugged before, of course. cuddled on rare occasions when he was able to keep his lower half angled away. but this all feels different. he doesn’t know why he’s interpreting this as anything different. you don’t see him the way he sees you, he tells himself. over and over again like a mantra. 

“yunho..” you murmur in such a soft way that melts his whole heart. “i didn’t wanna sleep on my own tonight..” 

“oh..” he gulps down a thick wad of spit, feeling like it’s wrong before he even says it but knowing he has no ill intentions. “did you want to come into my bed?” 

you hum, smiling as your knuckles come to brush along his cheek. yunho tenses for a split second before telling his body to relax, even while his mind spins at a mile a minute. 

“what do you want?” 

yunho has to gulp again so he doesn’t say anything he’ll absolutely regret. buys himself time by fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, slyly pulling it down so it covers his lap. fuck, what’s even an acceptable answer in this situation? a light-hearted, friendly one and not just an admission of years worth of pent up feelings? 

“just want you to feel okay,” he croaks, not entirely trusting his mouth to not say any more. he sighs, feeling the warmth of your breath fanning his pulse. this is really fucking dangerous. 

you play with the hair at his nape, and he only hopes you don’t mention the beet red shade of his ears. 

“hm, i was okay when i still had someone for tonight..” you pout, not realising the things those words do to his heart. “now i’m restless and all alone.” 

“i’m here.” he replies way too quickly, instantly regretting it because he knows he just came off desperate. you’re just spouting nonsense, you’re sober and high and you’re worked up, that’s all…

“yeah?” you whisper, grin tugging at your lips. “you won’t let me feel alone?” 

the effect your voice is having on his dick right now is, wow… it should be studied. entirely conscious of how rapidly his body’s reacting, he tries to shuffle and put a bit more space between you, but you know exactly what he’s doing and won’t let him — your other hand coming to slide up his chest, curling around his torso and keeping him close. 

there comes his name from your mouth again — soft and syrupy and way too fucking sexy. “why won’t you hold me back?” you ask through a pout. 

you wait for his face to twitch, knowing damn well the effect your pout has on him. yunho’s hands twitch where they’re sat in his lap, wishing desperately to reach out and hold you but too concerned with covering the obvious lump in his pants.

“this is…” his throat bobs. “you’re not in the right frame of mind.” 

neither is he, he thinks. he could be wildly misinterpreting every thing you’re saying and doing. that’s the conclusion he comes to at least. you don’t want him like that. maybe another man, but not yunho. he knows that like a fact. 

“i’m thinking clearly enough to know what i want.” you say easily. your hand trails down his chest, fingers dancing lightly across his stomach and causing the muscles to flex. you giggle over it, and yunho knows he needs to get the fuck away from you right the fuck now or he doesn’t know what he’ll do. he can’t stick around to find out — he can’t do that to you, or to his own heart. 

it belongs to you and only you, it always will. but he can’t let it try and match the beat of yours when you can’t offer it to him. 

he’s not who you want. you might just want someone, anyone — and yunho’s here and you know he’d never deny you anything. just settling for the closest man, train of thought foggy from the alcohol. 

yunho says your name as he peels your hand from his body, a gentle warning. “i really think you should go to bed—”

the words die in his throat when you shift suddenly, his hands futilely reaching out as if he could bring himself to even grab you right now — and he has no time to prepare himself for the way your thighs bracket his and you plop down into his lap. 

yunho puts all of his brainpower into stifling the noise that almost clawed its way up his throat. you’re just sitting there, smiling sweetly at him as your hands come to cup either side of his neck. his hummingbird pulse hammers under your fingertips and he knows you feel it with the way your eyes sparkle at him. 

he can’t bring himself to put a singular thought to how his boner prods into you. oh god, he’s so fucking hard. he has to kill himself now. 

“yunho,” you start and his heart clenches. just saying his name, acknowledging that it’s him, your best friend, and he’s not just acting as a placeholder right now. “what’s going on inside that head?” 

for a solid moment, he doesn’t answer. can’t. you’ll see right through him if he lies and he refuses to tell you the truth. 

by the time he works up the courage to mutter an answer, his mouth’s gone dry. “i’m thinking that you need to have some more water…and you need to sleep.” 

you hum in disapproval. “that’s all that’s on your mind?” you shift your hips a little to make a point, his cock twitching in response before his hands fly out and still you by the waist. 

yunho says your name lowly — intending for it to be a warning, but it’s lost in how he can’t help but breathe heavily at the feeling. it’s really you on top of him. not his imagination in a wet dream, not some girl to fill the void. it’s you and it feels so fucking good and right.  

but this is wrong, it’s all so, so wrong. 

“you’re drunk,” he reminds both of you. “you’re not thinking straight, you don’t actually mean any of this — we need to get you to sleep, okay? please?”

yunho won’t let anyone take advantage of you while you’re not sober. he’s no exception, no matter how long he’s waited or how much he’s dreamt of this. he’s weak when it comes to you, the feel of your body weight on top of him like this, but he knows he needs to man the fuck up and make good choices for both of you. 

“why can’t i mean it?” you scoff, and fear grips his lungs over the thought of unintentionally upsetting you. “i told you what i want, why aren’t you listening to what i’m saying??” 

“you’re drunk.” he reaffirms. 

it’s supposed to be final, a nonnegotiable fact. he hopes maybe this time you’ll come to some semblance of your senses and snap out of this alcohol-fuelled act. he hopes he’ll think a little straighter once you’re off of him too, and he can remind himself what’s fact from what’s just your drinks talking. 

you haven’t wanted him in all the years you’ve been best friends — why would you start now, when you’re barely sober and your first choice for a hook-up isn’t around? 

you frown at him, and yunho’s heart just shatters. you look so let down and hurt. he can’t really understand how he managed to upset you this badly, outside of just cockblocking mingi and not letting you make a move on your best friend that you don’t even want. he thinks he was pretty justified in those decisions though. as much as it pains him to see you this way, he needs to stand his ground if he’s even half of the good guy you see him as. 

“fine.” you murmur, voice wavering like you’re tearing up. he ducks his head close to yours to check, even when you purposefully turn your face away so he can’t see you. 

you climb out of his lap and crawl back to your spot on the couch. yunho can’t will himself to move, partly from the shock and partly because he needs to wait for his boner to go down before he stands. 

his eyes widen to saucers when you raise your arms up over your head and just tug your top off in front of him. he blinks stupidly at you in your bra for a split second before his head whips away, internally scolding himself for being such a fucking perv. 

you have changed in front of him before, you’re comfortable in your skin and his friendship like that — but the image hits him in the gut and in the cock because he’s so turned on right now, and you are too. because that’s the furthest he’s ever gone with you and you still don’t even see him as anything more than just a friend. 

yunho murmurs something about bringing you more water and some painkillers for the morning before he practically bolts into his kitchen, putting some much needed distance between you and him (and his cock). 

he lingers in the room, talking his boner down and only returning to the living room when he’s basically soft. he finds you turned into the back of the couch, blanket pulled over your body. he leaves the things on the floor at your side and retrieves your phone. he puts it on a far-away charger in hopes that you’re too drunk to know where to find it, in case you try to call over some other man to pick you up and take care of you. 

it’s okay. he’ll explain all of this to you in the morning when you’ve got a clear head on your shoulders. you’ll probably be mortified, apologising profusely for coming onto him like that. and he’ll probably just smile, nodding that he knows you meant nothing even if it tears his chest open to admit that. 

yunho casts you one last, sad glance before flicking the lights off and plopping into the armchair by the couch. 

he still isn’t going to let you sleep on your own tonight. and if you do call some other man over, well.. he’s gotta be here and ready to kick them out. 

—

yunho jolts awake like lightning struck him in the dick upon being pulled from him slumber at the sounds of you gagging. briefly thinking it was something else for a shameful split second (the freaky ass dream he had last night is to blame..) before his vision comes into focus on you dangling off the couch and heaving into the bucket. 

his feet are moving before he even registers it — and a few blinks after waking up he’s at your side once again, holding your hair from your face and rubbing your back for comfort. 

“don’t look at me,” you mumble, voice still drowsy with sleep. adorable, he thinks briefly.

yunho already had his eyes shut and head turned in the opposite direction, knowing you hate being sick around other people. “i won’t.” 

when you’re all done, he uncaps the bottle of water and brings it to your lips. you don’t take it from him, just tilt your head back and let him pour it down your throat. you make a small noise in relief, and yunho frowns at the thoughts that begin to waft through his head, made only worse by the fact that you’re still in your bra. 

he keeps his head down as he offers you your top and you pull it back on, whole time telling his cock to behave. 

you basically lay on him as he keeps you propped upright and helps you trudge into the bathroom. he leaves you be when you shoo him away. yunho then figures he should check your phone for you, and get started on some breakfast after. 

not my fucking circus.. yunho thinks as he scowls over the very unwelcome name filling all the notifications on your lockscreen. mingi was blowing up your phone well after you left the party and settled down at yunho’s place. some of them look like he’s come to the conclusion you cheated on him, when he also proclaimed yunho as ‘the boyfriend’…. eh, we listen and we don’t judge or whatever it is that you say. yunho would also have a generational crash out if he fumbled you. 

he flinches like lightning struck the same place twice when he hears the bathroom door unlock and open. he doesn’t miss a beat in rushing over to you, helping you back to the living room. 

you flop down onto the couch like a ragdoll, and yunho can’t help but breathe out a laugh. he loves you, he truly does. 

“what did you want to have for breakfast? i’ll cook for us.” 

with your face in the cushion, your reply is muffled. it was only one word and he tries, really tries to not let himself think that you just said “you.” 

yunho coughs. “sorry, what?” 

you turn your head. “i said anything is fine.” 

er, he doesn’t think so.. 

“alright.” 

he rubs his neck, watching you just lay there as his mind kicks back into overdrive. do you even remember..? 

“ah, i put your phone on the charge by the way. i just checked it — mingi’s been texting you.” 

his breath’s halted in his throat as he waits for your reply, tries to gauge the furrow of your brows and press of your lips. 

“oh, okay.” you say, completely unaffected by such news. “thanks for charging it.” 

the conversation ends there, or at least it should, but he really doesn’t know what to do with that answer. doesn’t know what to do with himself, fidgeting with all this uncertainty. 

“you.. uh, you okay?” 

“yeah why?” 

“well, it’s just that i thought…” yunho tries to pick out the right words from his scattered thoughts, words that aren’t just curses on mingi’s whole bloodline. “last night you were pretty close with him, i figured you would—”

you cut yunho off with a laugh. he looks at you like you’ve just pulled a gun on him. 

“do you genuinely think i want mingi?”

heat rushes up his neck, settling in the tips of his ears and apple of his cheeks. “..well why wouldn’t i think so? he was all over you at the party.” and you were too, he can’t bring himself to add. hurts him too much to acknowledge it. 

you shrug. “it’s a new day. but i wouldn’t have slept with him anyways — i don’t intend to now, either.” 

yunho… doesn’t know what he thinks anymore. how could you have not? how else are you supposed to act if you want someone? 

you scoff, watching how his face shifts in confusion. “yunho, you wouldn’t catch a woman’s intentions even if a pussy slapped you in the face.” 

he chokes on his own spit over that.

he’s more than eager to reinstate some space between you as he all but rushes to the kitchen — the dream he had last night (and the events of last night itself) isn’t helping the way his body reacts to you speaking so vulgar about him. 

after fixing you both up some eggs on toast, and then putting some random ass cartoon on the tv for you to watch while he cleaned up, yunho at last fell back onto the couch with an exhale. 

you catch him off guard when you curl into his side, nuzzling into his warmth. he gets a flash of deja vu from last night. only this time, yunho trusts himself to at least place a careful hand on the small of your back. you’ve woken up with a clear head now, so he doesn’t feel that pang of guilt doing so much as just returning the gesture. 

though you’re a physically affectionate person, you’ve never really shared that with your own best friend. you see, yunho’s only just grown out of the age where he could pop a boner over you merely breathing a certain way. so, for years now, he’s had to shrug away from your touches and affection, not willing to ruin your entire friendship over a hug. 

you’ve accepted the fact that it’s just not his love language (but it really is though, he just wants to be respectful of you). so it’s odd, that you’re acting like this now. cuddling up into him like you would for one of your boyfriends. 

“i remember everything, by the way.” you speak suddenly, eyes trained on the tv while yunho cracks his neck to stare down at you. “i really wasn’t as drunk as you kept telling me i was.” 

“oh.” is all he can really say. “but then why were you..” 

he trails off, swallowing the words back down and choosing to just pretend to also watch the tv. he doesn’t know if he’s mentally ready to have this conversation right now. 

“what?” you press him. “why was i what?” 

yunho’s heart grips a bit, instantly worried over your tone and assuming he’s upset you. “i’m sorry if i said anything that—”

“—god, yunho, you only offend me each time you don’t acknowledge the obvious.” you look up at him then, and your eye contact sucks the air form his lungs. “tell me what you’re thinking. for real this time.” 

yunho chews on the fat of his cheek, accepting the fact that this is happening after years of evading it. he tips his head in an almost imperceptible nod, then closes his eyes for the confidence to speak this out loud. 

“last night, i thought that maybe you wanted me. as more than just a friend.” 

there’s nothing from you, not even a hitch of air — and he realises you’re both holding back on breathing right now. yunho cracks his eyes open, face pinched in worry. 

you lift your brows at him like you’re expecting him to continue. “….well?” 

“well, you weren’t sober so i assumed it didn’t mean anything. just..” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry. “..worked up from the party, right?” 

there’s a suspended moment of disbelief, in which neither of you fill the silence with more than just shaky breaths. yunho’s too intimidated by you, by this conversation. he can’t read your intentions anymore — not after you so easily admitted to not even wanting a man you were all over. 

are you going to be upset that he drew this conclusion? is this the moment that you assert the line between you and him — that you could never be more than this and he’s stupid to have hoped so? 

yunho thinks you’ll do anything but just.. burst out into laughter. 

you pull yourself off of him, and curl into your own body with helpless cackles. yunho can’t really do anything but just wait for it to be over. the sound of your joy is always music to his ears, but it just feels foreboding right now. because what the hell does that mean? what’s so funny?? 

you wind down a bit, wiping tears from your eyes with stuttered giggles. “oh, i love you. i love you yunho but you are so, so, so dumb.” 

“uh…fuck you?” he huffs, lip quirking into a smirk. okay, so we’re just laughing this off, cool… 

you roll your eyes, and he’s unprepared for the way both of your hands come to cup his face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks as you smile at him so sweetly. 

“what did it mean to you?” 

in that moment, all the air is sucked from the room. you could probably hear ants fucking two rooms over in this heavy silence. yunho’s too shellshocked to react — the reality around him hasn’t sunk in yet, his system won’t be able to handle it. 

oh god, is this actually happening? 

“i think you already know..” he blushes, sort of glancing down at his lap, in reference to how his body very clearly reacted to you sat on top of him. 

“no, i don’t.” you answer, and there’s a flicker of sadness across your eyes. 

yunho feels a surge of confidence in his chest, suddenly determined to prove his feelings to you after years of shoving them under the surface. only if that’s what you’re asking. 

it’s like you’ve read his mind when you mutter, “show me?” 

yunho’s breath hitches, glazed eyes trained on your mouth before he’s leaning in, only stopping when he feels his lips slot against yours. 

yunho forces an inhale through his nose, knowing that your mouth will steal all the air from his lungs as you surge forward to kiss him back. 

he rips himself away to whine, “it meant everything. you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted—i, fuck, i don’t even know,” he dives back in again, pressing with a little more force this time until his chest bumps yours. his heart hammers against your ribs, chasing the beat of yours to match it. 

and you just let him, let his lips part yours and his tongue to lick into your mouth. he’s not quick enough to stifle the groan that leaves him over tasting you like this. years of dreaming and imagining couldn’t have lived up to this — the real thing, incomparable to all his fantasies of you. 

you tilt your head and allow yunho to kiss you deeper, sliding your hands down to his shoulders while his own wrap around your middle. not even meaning it as he squeezes, just checking that you’re really here. 

you must figure what’s racing through his mind, and you giggle onto his lips as you pinch the side of his neck, proving that he’s not dreaming. 

“you do want this?” yunho feels the need to ask, chest already rising rapidly. 

you cock your head and give him a sort of ‘bitch really’ look. 

“only if you do.” you smile, adoring how glossy his lips are. 

yunho has to huff out in disbelief at that. 

“if i do?” he says your name sternly, shaking you in his arms a little. “everyone but you could tell! i was shit at hiding it but you didn’t even realise. that’s why your exes all hated me, why i do everything that i do for you—”

“—yunho, i’ve been throwing myself at you for years.” 

he looks at you like a deer in headlights. 

“each time i thought i couldn’t get any more shameless, i’d reach a new low. i thought i must’ve not been your type, or maybe you were gay and that’s why you only ever treated me like a friend.” 

“what do you mean? you have never been just a friend.” he raves, completely and utterly lost at how you’d even come to that conclusion. “i mean, i never wanted to assume or make a move in case that’s not how you saw me, i couldn’t risk ruining everything.” 

“do you understand that half the things i do are just to get a reaction out of you?” you deadpan. “i was begging for you to ruin it. i just wanted some sign, any sign that you felt it too.” 

yunho doesn’t know what else to do other than just kiss you. kiss you with all the confidence in himself that he’s lacked over the years of your friendship, brushing off every sign you’ve given because he was certain you could never, never see him that way. 

the only thing that’s certain now, is that he’s fucking dumb. and he’s wasted too many years over it. 

he kisses you with the force of every time he’s wanted to in the past, every moment the urge passed through his head and he had to shove it into the deepest pit of his brain. 

each time he had to duck his head so you couldn’t see his blush over the sight of you in a towel; each time he awkwardly covered his lap when you’d casually strip in front of him; each time he had to rip his eyes away from your cleavage when he knew you didn’t have a bra on; each time he’s watched your exes kiss you and touch you and pull little noises from your lips, and all he could do was watch and shamefully get off to the memory of it later, wishing it was him.

it could’ve been, earlier on. if only he’d said something. he owes it to you to make up for lost time. 

yunho kisses you hard yet slow, channeling years worth of bottled-up desire into the swipes of his tongue against yours, the gentle squeezes and caresses of your waist. it’d be so easy to trail up, up, up until he’s grabbing the part of you that’s always hypnotised him, like a dog to a fucking bone. but he doesn’t want to misread this for anything more than what you’re giving him — so he just savours the way your boobs press so firmly up against his chest, focuses on kissing you as passionately as he can. 

you test the waters by trailing your hand down to his chest, spurred on by the way he licks into your mouth as an encouragement to continue. your fingers creep further, brushing over the tent in his pants before your palm closes around it. yunho sort of flinches back from the kiss, forehead falling on yours as he casts his eyes down at your hand cupped over his length. his brows furrow, studying the feel of your hand on him for the first time and unintentionally bucking up. 

you giggle, noticing the very large spot of precum staining the fabric. yunho can’t help but grin over the noise, finding you so fucking cute right now. he kisses you again, already sickeningly addicted to how it feels — your smiles slotting against each other. 

things heat up pretty quickly with your hand on his dick. he is just a man, after all. 

yunho’s helpless to all the little groans and sighs he lets out onto your tongue, more precum seeping into the fabric and ruining this perfect pair of pants even more. he’s never gotten off from the barest contact like this, but for you he definitely could. he’ll take whatever you’ll give him. 

ever the mind-reader, your fingers dance up to his waistband and pull the elastic down. yunho breaks the kiss just to study your expression first, and when he’s met with your pleading eyes, he huffs a laugh in defeat and helps you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs. 

his cock slaps against his stomach, leaving a stamp of precum on his shirt. he’s been leaking like a damn faucet over you. he doesn’t cum as quick as when he’s jerking off to the thought of you, so the real thing will have him done in an embarrassing amount of time. 

he’ll try his best for you, though. 

you reach for him, and he winces at your fingertips just tapping him. feeling your skin on his. your hand comes to wrap around just below the tip, and your fingers don’t even meet where they hold him. 

your eyes sparkle at yunho, and he just melts. 

“big boy.” 

his cock twitches way too hard over those words, and you make a little startled noise at how it moves between your fingers. his eyes are so entranced with you right now, the focused look on your face — while your own are trained on his boner, the size of it. 

“i’ll get shy..” yunho murmurs. 

you offer him a sweet smile, and before he can return it, you spit directly onto the head of his cock. 

he throbs at the sudden sensation, then his jaw goes slack as your hand gathers the saliva and pre beaded at his tip to drag down his length. you’re not even gripping him that tight, or moving that fast.. but just the sight is fucking him up all the same. 

down to the base, back up to the tip. a few times over, just listening to his laboured breathing and weak hums of approval, until you find a rhythm and your fingers tighten. 

yunho throws his head back onto the couch backrest when you flick your wrist in the strokes, an unnecessarily loud groan ripping from his chest over that. 

he sort of anchors himself with the hands holding your waist and fucks up, mind tuned in solely to the feel of the circle of your hand around him. tries to memorise its shape, the unfamiliar ridges of your palms, for the next time he needs to get off. 

you catch him completely off guard when a second hand joins the first, enclosing just around his tip and rubbing it with the ball of your thumb — other hand still focused on twisting up and down the rest of his length. 

yunho thinks he sees glimpses of heaven’s gates behind his eyelids when he clamps them shut, moaning out over how fucking good you are to him. he’s never even used two hands on himself, and his heart just clenches thinking of how you’ve done this with guys who aren’t him. 

he doesn’t linger on that thought long before his lower abdomen coils dangerously tight far too quickly — and he has to rip your hands off of him before he can bust all over his couch and ruin this for everyone and for ever. 

“sorry,” he huffs, voice hoarse like he’s just scaled a mountain. “that was close.” 

“i got too eager..” you shrug guiltily, though your proud grin holds no remorse. 

he feels your grin on his lips when he kisses you again. your hands hover by him, untouching while they’re coated in the mess of fluids. 

while he’s not turning to complete mush at the feel of your hands on him, yunho takes the chance to drag his own around and rest on your tummy. twitching, desperate to feel you beneath your clothes. you’ve never left anything up to the imagination — and he’s only even more turned on by the fact that he now knows you were doing it on purpose. 

he tsks at the thought of you assuming he must’ve liked men to hold no reaction to your bare body all these years. but just as you were forward, yunho had a talent for hiding all the boners he’d pop. so talented that you never even fucking realised. 

“may i?” he asks so gently, eyes almost entirely black from his dilated pupils. 

you nod, but that’s not to his standards, see. 

“words.” he whispers, not attempting to hide the shit-eating grin. 

you roll your eyes, but he felt the way your stomach flexed over the little instruction. 

“yes, please.” 

and you used manners too. oh, how he fucking loves you. 

you watch his hand as it travels down your thigh, breaches past the hem of your skirt. two fingers press into the dip of your panties, and you hear the way his breath catches at the dampness under his fingertips. feeling how your body reacts to him. 

his throat bobs in a gulp. he watches you watch his arm disappear further under your skirt as he pulls your underwear to the side just enough for a finger to prod at your hole. wet and hot and his head is spinning. 

you whine, urging him to keep going. yunho thinks he gets out a nod before sliding his middle finger into your core. you hum as you feel each ridge dragging against your walls. 

“always been attracted to your hands,” you admit in a sigh. 

yunho’s lip curls, his hooded eyes brightening at your voice. “what about them?” 

“they’re long.” your face falls into a silent moan when his ring finger joins the middle. 

compared to him, you’re pretty quiet as his hand works at you. no more than just pumping in and out, watching your brows pinch when his fingertips brush by that sweet spot. 

“is it alright?” he murmurs, a bit worried over your silence. 

“feels so good.” you whisper, making a point by scooting your hips closer and leaning back a little to let him reach even deeper. 

knowing that he’s not completely disappointing you, yunho crooks his fingers up, heat flaring in his belly over the whine that leaves you. 

his fingers curl into your walls with each thrust of his hand, thumb fumbling to push your underwear further aside so he can press it on your clit. 

the pressure instantly has your body jolting, arms wrapping around yunho’s as you kind of fall into him. he kisses the crown of your head, determined to keep his fingers moving at a pace that’s got you whimpering. 

he wants you to cum before he does, it’s only right. you’ve seen his size now too — you should know he needs to put in the work if he wants it to fit without hurting you. 

on that thought, yunho adds his pointer to the fingers fucking into your pussy, then gives a swipe of his thumb on your clit. 

the way you moan his name has yunho falling in love all over again. 

he kisses your temple, your earlobe. leaves pecks all over your hair while he focuses on his fingers making you feel the best he can give. now that you’ve let him kiss you once he just can’t stop giving them to you. 

he nuzzles his face into your neck to kiss there too. opens his mouth, tastes your pulse on his tongue. resists the urge to suck his mark onto the skin before he moves further down. 

yunho leans back a bit, bending down to get at face level with your legs and then put his head between them. but you know what he’s doing before he can do it, and you stop him with a gentle tug on his hair. 

“wait, no..” you give a small smile, flustered. he has such a big crush on you, oh my god. “i’m shy.” 

he pouts, then his mouth curls into a smug grin. “i just want a taste.”

you smack his arm playfully. “you womaniser… another time, i promise.” 

that’s all he needs before his hand’s getting back to work, and he bites his lip in the concentration of circling his thumb around while the rest of his fingers curl up.

you ball his shirt in your fist, grounding yourself as you start to throb around yunho’s fingers. he grins, so in love and so desperate to have you cum for him — because of him. 

“yunho, i’m..” you gasp out, and he groans at your pussy clamping down around his fingers — still fucking them into the tight space. 

“i’ve got you.” he whispers against your hair, kissing your forehead before his free arm comes to hold your back. 

your eyes screw shut, mouth falling open as you let go — cum gushing around his fingers where he’s still relentlessly curling them up. 

you sag all your weight on to him and he chuckles fondly, brushing his hand through your hair. he slowly drags the other out of you, and you make a muffled noise on his chest over it. 

yunho doesn’t speak as you catch your breath. he doesn’t expect anything past this — you’ve already given him more than what he thought he’d get in this lifetime and the next. 

you raise your head, connecting your lips again. you both get lost in the kiss for a bit, yunho chewing on the plush of your lower lip before you pull away. 

“do you want to?” 

yunho nods, not even thinking once, and your mouth cracks into a sly grin. 

“words?” 

he smiles at just how cute he finds you, but his face falls as a thought occurs to him. 

“i don’t have any condoms..” he admits, sort of shy over the fact that he doesn’t get around nearly as much as you do in comparison. 

he’s never really kept any because they’d just expire, unused in his bedside table. his hand sees more action than any box of condoms he’s purchased. 

“it’s fine. i want you.” 

yunho blanches at what you’re suggesting. you can’t just say shit like that to him.. if you ever wanted to get rid of him, there’d be no hope. 

“are you sure?” he asks, wide eyes looking at you a little lost, lips swollen from all the heavy kisses. 

“yes. very.” you smile, sealing the promise with a tender kiss. 

before he just goes on a spiel about how madly he’s in love with you, yunho lays you down on the couch. he grabs a cushion to prop under your head, and you thank him in such an adorably small voice. 

he sits back and takes the view in, running his hands over the sides of your body. wanting to remember this moment, and also too shy to actually begin — still in shock that any of this is even happening, and now you want to have sex with him. 

with his incessant staring at your tits, you do him the favour of pulling your top off, bra shrugged off with it. you go for your skirt next, and he realises you’re probably getting impatient at him just ogling and drooling over you. 

“sorry,” he mutters, trying to help you pull your skirt off your legs. “you’re just so fucking gorgeous.” 

“yeah? you should show me.” you tease, thumbs hooking into your underwear to drag that down too. 

yunho meets you halfway, tugging it the rest of the way down while his actual concentration hones in on your pussy, glistening with arousal. all for him. 

he doesn’t want to make you wait any longer and risk you changing your mind, so yunho doesn’t even bother with his own clothes as he crawls over your body. 

his hips line himself up, both hands focused on holding you and comforting you through this. yunho nudges in slowly, face crumpling with a moan at how your warmth swallows his tip. 

he sucks a breath in through his teeth and keeps going, near shuddering above you until he bottoms out, hips meeting your ass. 

he keeps telling himself to breathe, hand fumbling for your breast to hold on for some type of support. he kneads the flesh between his fingers, wincing each time your pussy flutters around him, adjusting to the size. 

“you can move.” you tell him, amused at how entranced he seems with your boobs. 

yunho nods, pulling out just to push back in even deeper. you both shuffle up the couch a little from the force of the thrust, and yunho thinks part of him died from the force of trying not to cum the instant he slid in. 

he catches the grin on your face and he groans, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “i’ve thought of this for, fuck.. a really long time.” 

you hum, fingers threading gently through his hair. 

“i’m embarrassed…i don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“you couldn’t,” you whisper right at his ear, making him shiver above you.

at that, yunho starts to move his hips at a steady pace. pulls back to watch your expressions, encouraged by every little sigh you offer him. he angles his pelvis up to hit your g-spot this time, and you react accordingly with a gasped moan, his confidence surging. 

yunho doesn’t let his hips tilt another way even a fraction, aiming for the spot that has you seeing stars with each quick snap into you. you look so pretty beneath him, prettier than anything his brain could’ve conjured up on his own with nothing but his hand to keep him company. 

“good? does this feel okay?” yunho asks desperately, grabbing onto the couch’s backrest so that he can focus on fucking you as best as possible. 

your only response is a light moan, and yunho bites his tongue to distract his body, cock pulsing like crazy inside of you. 

“please, i need to know how you feel.” 

“just don’t stop,” you all but beg, holding him to you in a hug. and well, he’d be an idiot to not listen. 

yunho latches his mouth onto your breast, and you squeak when his tongue laps at the nipple. your mouth gets even louder for him, thighs locking him in at the hips as he hits your spot so perfectly each time he fucks forward. 

one airy moan of his name from your lips is what sends yunho toppling over the edge — groaning desperately onto your chest, nearly ripping the fabric of his couch as he fucks you through his orgasm. spilling inside you with each thrust, only stopping when it starts to burn from sensitivity. 

even then, he makes no move to pull out. doesn’t even allow himself to get air back in his lungs before he’s diving in to kiss you — pouring all of his love into his lips on yours. 

it could’ve been an hour that you both laid there, unwilling to move and not caring to clean up as you clung onto the heat of each other’s bodies, his cock long having gone soft inside you. 

“i need to pee,” you say eventually. 

“without me?” he pouts and you roll your eyes, shoving him lightly. 

he slips himself out of you and sits back, tugging his shirt off over his head and balling it up before pressing it between your legs. 

you hold it there as you sit up, raising a brow at him. “been taught well?” 

yunho rubs his neck, shy. “not from any of my own experience..” 

you just giggle, pressing a kiss to the pink-dusted apple of his cheek. 

“you know i love you?” 

yunho’s eyes go wide, your words punching him straight in the chest and knocking out his breath. 

“don’t feel like you need to say that..”

“why not?” you reply easily, “i already tell you all the time, and now you know how i really mean it.” 

well, he can’t argue with that. he’s never been able to argue with you anyways. 

yunho holds your head with both of his hands, long fingers splayed across your cheeks. 

“i love you too.” he kisses you, and it’s the sweetest taste he’s ever known. the taste that you’re his. “so fucking much.” 

@ttturnitup @jhthings @fweakygyatt @lunaryoongie @binneulton @kits-treasure-trove @kpopishgirlie @jaja-salute @joongtime

[glittoring]

unfortunately i do want that fictional man’s fingers in my mouth

[cha0ticbean]

rainy days

levi x reader blurb smut!

The weather had been gloomy all week. Today was no different as the patter of rain softly hit the window. A direct contrast to the harsh plap, plap, plap of skin currently filling the room.

It was supposed to be your day off. You’d spent the last week and a half running around all the districts trying to play diplomat as Erwin conjured up whatever crazy plan for whatever crazy circumstance. Levi was also off today. Erwin had been gracious enough to give humanity’s greatest soldier a break, and “coincidentally” on the same day he’d given you a day off.

Unfortunately for you, a day off with Levi was never truly a day off.

It had started in the morning. Levi had pulled you back into bed the second you’d tried to get up at your usual time, knowing you’d be on autopilot and forget you were just supposed to “rest” with him today.

He’d scooted closer to you and even spooned you. However, his sweet gesture had quickly been corrupted by ulterior motives.

The movements were subtle at first. A small shift of his hips against your rear. It quickly turned into a mess of grinding and kissing. Somewhere along the line, clothes had been discarded and hair had been mussed. Now, multiple orgasms later, the room smelled of sex and your sweaty bodies couldn’t seem to stop pulling each other in.

“Levi,” you panted, arms wrapped around his neck as he folded you into a mean mating press. “Levi, I’m gonna need a break after this. Been— fuck— we’ve been going at it all morning.”

His eyes squinted at your face, scoffing at the request. As if what you were pleading for wasn’t valid and he hadn’t been balls deep since the sun started to rise. “You were gone for two weeks talking to some rich snobs,” Levi stated obviously. He hissed when you clenched tightly around him, close to another orgasm— a count you’d lost track of a long time ago. “I’m sure you can endure a couple hours of me.”

You moaned as he nipped at your neck. “Levi, baby,” you tried pleading, which was becoming increasingly difficult now that Levi was also close and was fucking you like no tomorrow. “You’re insatiable.”

“Shut up,” he spat harshly. Not because he was mad but because he was literally two seconds away from filling you up and he just wanted to hear you moans instead of some pitiful pleas. “Just take this and stop complaining.”

In response, you gave him exactly what he wanted. How could you not?

Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as another orgasm washed over you, leaving you seeing white and shaking from the intensity. Sweat clung to your body. Your hair was all kinds of messed up, and you’re pretty sure you look completely fucked out. Levi was no better off, cursing like a sailor as he came just as hard.

He grabbed your face and kissed you hard. Still inside of you, and definitely still hard.

“Levi,” you panted, forcing him away from your lips. “At least give me ten minutes. Need to pee… and I need water.”

“You big fucking baby.” The man rolled his eyes but pulled out. You moaned at the loss, cum oozing out of you the second he was no longer plugging you up. “Whatever. Don’t be long,” Levi gave in, glare taking over his face.

You sighed, standing up on shaky legs, but more than grateful to get a break.

You did not know that this was the last break you were getting from your absolute fuck fest today.

hi! this is my first time posting on tumblr so please show some love. comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

[nanamisfae]

Katara is so much better than me cos I would've rebuilt the entire Airbender Nation with how much I would've been bouncing on him

[snug-gyu]

[chichireadss]

Heyy I really love your writing and zuko fanfics. Can we please have an angst fic where zuko x reader have an argument, like a really bad one.

Like an argument about the political stands of the fire lord or a mistake he did in the council. Or just a disagreement that turns really bad.

Then afterwards maybe some emotional smut to really showcase that they still love each other

The heavy doors to the council chamber slammed shut behind the last advisor, the sound echoing through the corridor like a thunderclap. You didn't wait for the echo to fade before you turned on your husband, your voice sharp enough to cut.

"What were you thinking?"

Zuko didn't look at you immediately. He stood at the head of the long table, both palms pressed flat against the polished wood, his shoulders tense beneath the ornate robes of his office. When he finally raised his head, his golden eyes were already hardening into that stubborn expression you knew too well.

"I was thinking about what's best for the Fire Nation," he said, his voice carefully controlled. Too controlled.

"Best for the Fire Nation?" You stepped closer, your own formal robes swishing against the floor. "Zuko, you just agreed to reinstate military outposts in Earth Kingdom territory. Territory we *promised* to withdraw from completely."

"Strategic outposts," he corrected, straightening to his full height. "For trade route protection. It's not the same thing."

"It's exactly the same thing!" Your voice rose despite your efforts to remain calm. "Do you have any idea how this looks? How it undermines everything you've worked for? Everything we've worked for?"

His jaw tightened. "I know how it looks. I also know that Fire Nation merchants are being attacked on those routes. People are dying. I have a responsibility to protect our citizens."

"By occupying Earth Kingdom land again?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This was the man who had spent years—years —working to undo his father's and grandfather's damage, to rebuild trust with the other nations. "This is exactly what Ozai would have done."

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you'd crossed a line. Zuko's face went pale, then flushed with anger, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Don't," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Don't you dare compare me to him."

"Then don't make decisions that sound like something he would make!" You were shouting now, all pretense of calm abandoned. "You stood in that council chamber and authorized military presence in another nation's sovereign territory. How is that different?"

"Because I'm not conquering anything!" Zuko's voice finally rose to match yours, fire flashing in his eyes—literally, small flames dancing at the corners. "I'm protecting trade routes that benefit both nations. The Earth Kingdom council members agreed—"

"The ones you've been negotiating with for months? The ones who owe you political favors?" You shook your head, bitter laughter escaping. "That's not agreement, Zuko. That's coercion dressed up in diplomatic language."

"You weren't in those negotiations," he shot back. "You don't know what was discussed, what compromises were made—"

"Because you didn't tell me!" The hurt beneath your anger finally broke through. "I'm your wife. I'm your partner. And you made this decision without even consulting me."

"I don't need to consult you on every council decision," Zuko said, and though his voice was quieter now, the words hit like a physical blow. "I'm the Fire Lord. These are my responsibilities."

You stared at him, something cold settling in your chest. "I see. So I'm just... what? A decorative fixture? Someone to stand beside you at ceremonies and smile?"

"That's not what I said—"

"It's what you meant." You turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "I thought we were building something together. A new Fire Nation. A better future. But apparently, you're building it alone."

"That's not fair." His voice was strained now, frustration bleeding through. "You know how hard this is. Every decision I make, someone questions it. Someone compares me to my father or my sister or tells me I'm too soft or too hard or too—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I'm trying to balance impossible demands from every direction, and now you're attacking me too?"

"I'm not attacking you!" You whirled back to face him. "I'm trying to tell you that you're making a mistake! A serious one that could undo years of peace-building!"

"And I'm telling you that you don't understand the full situation!" Zuko's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You see everything in black and white, right and wrong, but governance isn't that simple!"

"Don't patronize me," you said coldly. "I understand complexity just fine. What I don't understand is how the man who once said he wanted to restore the Fire Nation's honor can justify military occupation—"

"It's not an occupation!"

"—of another nation's land!" You finished over his protest. "Call it whatever you want, Zuko. Use whatever diplomatic language makes you feel better. But at the end of the day, you're putting Fire Nation soldiers on Earth Kingdom soil, and that's a betrayal of everything you claimed to stand for."

The silence that followed was deafening. Zuko stared at you, his expression a mixture of anger and something that looked almost like betrayal.

"Everything I claimed to stand for," he repeated slowly. "So you think I'm a liar now? A hypocrite?"

"I think you're scared," you said, and your voice was quieter now but no less cutting. "I think you're so terrified of being seen as weak, of failing, that you're willing to compromise your principles to appear strong."

"You don't know what you're talking about." But there was something hollow in his voice now, something defensive.

"Don't I?" You stepped closer, looking up into his face. "I know you, Zuko. Better than anyone. And I know when you're acting out of fear instead of conviction."

"I'm not afraid," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Yes, you are. You're afraid that if you don't project strength, the council will lose respect for you. That the other nations will see you as weak. That you'll fail as Fire Lord." Your voice softened slightly. "But this isn't strength, Zuko. This is just... repeating old patterns."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe even recognition. But then his expression hardened again.

"I don't need a lecture on leadership from someone who's never had to make these kinds of decisions," he said coldly. "You don't sit in council meetings. You don't negotiate with foreign dignitaries. You don't have an entire nation's future resting on your shoulders."

The words were like ice water. You took a step back, feeling as though he'd physically pushed you.

"You're right," you said quietly. "I don't have those responsibilities. Because you've never given them to me. You've never truly let me be your partner in this, have you? I'm just the Fire Lady. Someone to warm your bed and look pretty at state functions."

"That's not—" Zuko started, but you cut him off.

"I'm done with this conversation." You turned toward the door. "Make whatever decisions you want, Fire Lord. Clearly, my opinion doesn't matter."

"Don't walk away from me," Zuko said, his voice rising again. "We're not finished—"

"Yes, we are." You didn't look back. "I can't talk to you when you're like this. When you're so convinced you're right that you can't hear anything else."

You left him standing there in the council chamber, alone with his decisions and his pride.

The private chambers felt suffocating that evening. You'd retreated there after the argument, needing space, needing air, needing anything but another round of bitter words. But Zuko had followed eventually, and the moment he entered, the tension reignited like a spark to kindling.

"We need to talk about this," he said, closing the door behind him.

"There's nothing to talk about." You didn't turn from where you stood by the window, looking out over the capital. "You've made your decision. The council has approved it. What's done is done."

"It's not done if you're this angry about it." He moved closer, and you could feel his presence behind. "I need you to understand—"

"I understand perfectly." You finally turned to face him. "I understand that when it comes down to it, you don't trust my judgment. You don't value my input. You see me as someone to be managed, not consulted."

"That's not true." But there was frustration in his voice, impatience. "You're twisting everything I said—"

"Am I?" You crossed your arms. "Then explain to me, Zuko. Explain how making a unilateral decision about military deployment, without discussing it with your wife who has spent years studying Fire Nation history and international relations, is somehow valuing my partnership."

"I had to make a decision quickly," he said. "The situation was urgent—"

"The attacks on trade routes have been happening for months," you countered. "This wasn't urgent. You just didn't want to deal with my objections."

His eyes flashed. "Maybe because I knew you'd react exactly like this! That you'd be so focused on idealistic principles that you'd ignore practical realities!"

"Idealistic principles?" Your voice rose. "Is that what you call not wanting to repeat the Fire Nation's imperialist past? Idealism?"

"I call it naive!" Zuko shot back. "You think the world works on good intentions and moral purity, but it doesn't! Sometimes you have to make hard choices. Compromise. Do things that aren't perfect but are necessary!"

"And who decides what's necessary?" you demanded. "You? Alone? Without input from anyone who might disagree?"

"I have an entire council—"

"Of people who are afraid to contradict you!" You stepped closer, anger and hurt warring in your chest. "You're the Fire Lord, Zuko. They're not going to tell you when you're wrong. That's supposed to be my job. That's what a partner does. But you don't want a partner. You want someone who'll nod and smile and support whatever you decide!"

"That's not fair," he said, but his voice was strained. "You know that's not what I want."

"Do I?" The question hung in the air between you. "Because right now, I don't know what you want. I don't know if you even see me as an equal anymore, or just as an accessory to your reign."

Something cracked in Zuko's expression. "How can you say that? After everything we've been through together?"

"Because you're shutting me out!" The words burst from you, raw and painful. "You're making decisions that affect our entire future without including me. You're choosing to align yourself with policies I fundamentally oppose. And when I try to talk to you about it, you dismiss my concerns as naive idealism!"

"I'm not dismissing you—"

"Yes, you are!" Tears of frustration burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You're dismissing everything I believe in. Everything we supposedly built this marriage on. The idea that we'd be partners. That we'd face these challenges together. That we'd create a better Fire Nation together."

"We are creating a better Fire Nation," Zuko insisted. "Just because we disagree on one policy—"

"This isn't about one policy!" Your voice cracked. "This is about who you're becoming. About whether the man I married still exists, or whether the Fire Lord title has turned you into someone else."

The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. He stepped back, his face going pale.

"Someone else," he repeated quietly. "You mean someone like my father."

"I didn't say that—"

"You didn't have to." His voice was hollow now, all the anger draining out of it. "That's what you think, isn't it? That I'm becoming like him."

"No," you said, but even you could hear the uncertainty in your voice. "That's not—I'm just saying that you're making choices that scare me. That make me wonder if power is changing you."

"Power is changing me?" Zuko's laugh was bitter. "I've been Fire Lord for years. If power was going to corrupt me, don't you think it would have happened already?"

"Maybe it's gradual," you said quietly. "Maybe it happens so slowly you don't notice. Small compromises that lead to bigger ones. Until one day you wake up and realize you've become everything you swore you'd never be."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Zuko stared at you, and for the first time since the argument began, you saw real hurt in his eyes. Not just anger or frustration, but deep, wounded pain.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "That I'm on my way to becoming Ozai?"

The question hung between you, and you realized with sudden, terrible clarity that you'd gone too far. That in your anger and hurt, you'd struck at his deepest fear, his greatest insecurity.

"Zuko—" you started, but he was already turning away.

"I need some air," he said, his voice carefully controlled again. "I can't... I need to be alone right now."

He walked to the balcony doors and stepped out into the night, leaving you standing in the middle of your chambers, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the Fire Nation evening.

You didn't know how long you stood there, staring at his silhouette on the balcony. Long enough for your anger to cool, for the adrenaline to fade, for the full weight of what you'd said to settle over you like ash.

You'd compared him to his father. Not directly, but the implication had been clear enough. And you knew—you knew—how deeply that would hurt. Zuko had spent his entire life trying to escape Ozai's shadow, trying to prove he was different, better. And you'd just suggested that he was failing.

The worst part was that you didn't even fully believe it. Yes, you disagreed with his decision. Yes, you were angry that he'd made it without consulting you. But did you really think he was becoming like Ozai? No. Zuko was still the man who had given up everything to do what was right. Who had faced his father and chosen honor over power. Who worked himself to exhaustion trying to heal the wounds the Fire Nation had inflicted on the world.

He was still that man. Wasn't he?

The doubt itself felt like a betrayal.

You moved slowly toward the balcony, your earlier anger replaced by something more complicated. Regret, maybe. Or fear. Fear that you'd damaged something that couldn't be repaired.

Zuko stood at the railing, his hands gripping the stone, his head bowed. In the moonlight, he looked younger somehow. Vulnerable. Like the boy you'd first fallen in love with, before the crown and the council and the weight of an entire nation's expectations.

"Zuko," you said softly.

He didn't turn. "I thought you wanted me to be alone."

"I said you needed air. I didn't say I was going to let you stay out here all night." You moved to stand beside him, leaving space between you but close enough to talk. "I'm sorry."

"For which part?" His voice was flat, emotionless. "For calling me naive? For suggesting I'm becoming my father? For implying that I'm a tyrant in the making?"

"I didn't call you a tyrant—"

"You might as well have." He finally looked at you, and the pain in his eyes made your chest ache. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Every single day, wondering if I'm making the right choices. If I'm being too harsh or too lenient. If I'm honoring my nation's traditions or breaking free from its toxic past. And the one person who's supposed to believe in me, who's supposed to know that I'm trying my best—" His voice cracked. "You think I'm turning into him."

"I don't," you said, and you meant it. "Zuko, I don't think that. I was angry and I said something cruel, but I don't believe you're becoming Ozai."

"Then why did you say it?" The question was quiet, but it cut deep.

"Because I'm scared," you admitted. "I'm scared that the pressure of leadership is making you compromise things that matter. I'm scared that you're so focused on appearing strong that you're forgetting to be good. And I'm scared that you're shutting me out, and I don't know how to reach you anymore."

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze returning to the city spread out below them. "I'm scared too," he finally said. "Every day. That I'm not good enough. That I'll fail. That I'll make a decision that hurts people, that starts another war, that undoes all the progress we've made." He paused. "And I'm scared that you'll realize you married the wrong person. That you deserve someone better. Someone who doesn't carry all this... damage."

Your heart clenched. "Zuko—"

"I made the decision about the outposts because I thought it was right," he continued, his voice rough. "Not because I wanted to appear strong or because I was trying to be like my father. I genuinely believed it was the best option. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're right and it's a mistake. But I wasn't trying to shut you out or dismiss you. I just... I didn't know how to explain all the factors, all the considerations. And I was afraid you'd look at me exactly the way you did in that council chamber. Like I'd disappointed you."

"You didn't disappoint me," you said softly. "You hurt me. There's a difference."

He turned to look at you fully then. "How?"

"By making me feel like I don't matter. Like my thoughts and opinions aren't valuable to you." You took a breath. "I don't need to agree with every decision you make, Zuko. I know leadership is complicated. But I need to feel like I'm part of your life, not just an observer. Like you trust me enough to share the burden, even when it's heavy."

"I do trust you," he said. "More than anyone."

"Then show me." You moved closer, close enough to see the exhaustion in his face, the weight he carried. "Talk to me. Let me in. Stop trying to protect me from the hard parts and let me be your partner in all of it."

His hand lifted, hesitating, then gently touched your face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For making you feel like you don't matter. You matter more than anything. More than the crown, more than the council, more than any of it."

"Then act like it," you whispered. "Trust me with the difficult decisions. Value my input even when you disagree. Let me stand beside you as an equal, not just as your wife."

"I want that," he said. "I do. I just... I don't always know how. I spent so long learning to be a Fire Lord that I forgot how to be a husband."

"Then we'll figure it out together." You covered his hand with yours. "But Zuko, you have to let me in. You have to stop carrying everything alone."

He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm sorry," he said again. "For all of it. For not consulting you. For dismissing your concerns. For making you feel like you're not my partner."

"I'm sorry too," you murmured. "For what I said about your father. That was cruel and unfair."

"It was also my deepest fear," he admitted. "That's why it hurt so much. Because part of me is always wondering if I'm one bad decision away from becoming him. If the capacity for that kind of cruelty is just... waiting inside me. Part of my bloodline."

Your heart broke at the raw pain in his voice. "Zuko, no—"

"You don't know what it's like," he continued, his voice rough. "Growing up watching him. Learning from him. Having his voice in my head telling me I'm weak, that I'm a failure, that I'll never be worthy. I've spent years trying to prove him wrong, trying to be different. But what if I can't? What if it's inevitable?"

"It's not inevitable." You cupped his scarred face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. "Zuko, listen to me. You are nothing like your father. Nothing. The fact that you even worry about it proves that."

"Does it?" His golden eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance. "Or does it just mean I'm better at hiding it?"

"You're not hiding anything." Your thumbs stroked along his cheekbones, feeling the ridge of scar tissue beneath one. "Ozai never questioned himself. He never doubted. He believed he was right about everything, that his power gave him that right. You question every decision. You agonize over whether you're doing the right thing. That's not hiding cruelty, Zuko. That's being human."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "I don't feel human sometimes. I feel like... like I'm playing a role. Fire Lord Zuko, the redeemed prince, the one who's supposed to have all the answers. And I'm terrified that one day everyone will realize I'm just making it up as I go."

"We're all making it up," you said softly. "That's what life is. No one has all the answers, not even Fire Lords."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "That's not very reassuring."

"Maybe not. But it's true." You moved closer, until your bodies were nearly touching. "And you're not alone in it, Zuko. That's what I've been trying to tell you. You don't have to have all the answers by yourself. You don't have to carry everything alone."

"I know." His hands came up to cover yours, still cradling his face. "I know that in my head. But in practice... I don't know how to share it. I've spent so long being self-sufficient, not relying on anyone, that I don't know how to let someone else carry part of the weight."

"Then let me teach you." You pressed your forehead to his. "Start small. Tell me what you're afraid of. Not about being Fire Lord—about us."

He was quiet for a long moment, his breath warm against your skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid you'll leave. That you'll decide I'm too damaged, too complicated, too much work. That you'll realize you could have married someone easier, someone who doesn't come with all this baggage."

The confession made your chest ache. "Zuko, I didn't marry you because you were easy. I married you because I love you. All of you. Including the complicated parts."

"Even when I make decisions you disagree with?"

"Yes." You pulled back slightly to look at him. "I won't always agree with you. I'll probably argue with you about a lot of things. But that doesn't mean I'll stop loving you. Love isn't about agreeing on everything. It's about choosing each other even when things are hard."

"Is that what you're doing now?" His voice was tentative, hopeful. "Choosing me?"

"I never stopped choosing you," you said. "Even when I was angry. Even when I said things I shouldn't have. I was hurt and scared, but I never stopped loving you."

Something in his expression cracked open, vulnerability flooding through. "I love you too," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "So much it terrifies me sometimes. Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"You're not going to lose me." You kissed him softly, just a brush of lips. "But you have to let me in, Zuko. All the way in. Not just the parts you think are acceptable, but the messy, difficult parts too."

"I don't want you to see those parts," he admitted. "I don't want you to know how much I struggle. How often I doubt myself. How scared I am that I'm failing."

"Why not?"

"Because..." He hesitated, then sighed. "Because I'm supposed to be strong. For you, for the nation. If I fall apart, everything falls apart."

"That's not true." Your hands slid down to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the layers of silk. "Strength isn't about never falling apart. It's about being brave enough to be vulnerable. To admit when you're struggling. To ask for help."

"I'm not good at asking for help."

"I know." You smiled slightly. "But I'm patient. And I'm not going anywhere."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you like you were something precious. "I'm sorry," he murmured into your hair. "For shutting you out. For making you feel like you don't matter. You matter more than anything."

"I'm sorry too," you said against his chest. "For comparing you to your father. For letting my anger make me cruel. I know how much that hurt you."

"We both said things we regret." His hand stroked down your back, soothing. "But maybe... maybe that's okay. Maybe we needed to have this fight."

You pulled back to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe we needed to get everything out in the open. All the fears and resentments and doubts we've been holding back." He touched your face gently. "It hurt, but at least now we're being honest with each other."

"I suppose that's true." You leaned into his touch. "I just hate fighting with you."

"I hate it too." His thumb traced your lower lip. "But I'd rather fight with you than lose you to silence. At least when we're fighting, we're still talking."

"Is that what we're doing now?" you asked softly. "Talking?"

"I hope so." His eyes darkened slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "Though I can think of other things I'd rather be doing."

Heat flickered through you at the look in his eyes. "Zuko..."

"I miss you," he said quietly. "Even though you're right here, I miss you. I miss feeling close to you. I miss..." He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

"I miss you too," you admitted. The anger had burned away, leaving only longing in its wake. "I hate the distance between us."

"Then let's get rid of it." He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. "Let me show you how sorry I am. Let me show you that I still love you, that I still choose you, that I still need you."

"Yes," you breathed, and then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was different from the gentle brush earlier. This was deeper, more urgent, filled with all the emotion of the past hours. Apology and forgiveness, hurt and healing, all tangled together in the press of lips and tongue.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. He made a low sound in his throat, his arms tightening around you, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing, the familiar solid strength of his body.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his eyes were molten gold. "Bedroom," he said, his voice rough. "I need... I need to be close to you. Really close."

You nodded, taking his hand and leading him inside. The chambers were dimly lit, candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. You turned to face him, suddenly nervous despite years of marriage.

"Hey," he said softly, reading your expression. "We don't have to—"

"I want to," you interrupted. "I just... after everything we said tonight, I feel vulnerable."

"Good." He stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I want you vulnerable. I want you real. I don't want walls between us anymore."

"No walls," you agreed, and reached for the fastenings of his formal robes.

He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy outer layers until he stood before you in just his undertunic and pants. You could see the rise and fall of his chest, the way his pulse jumped in his throat. He was nervous too, you realized. Despite everything, despite years together, this moment felt significant. Like you were choosing each other all over again.

Your own robes followed, pooling at your feet in a whisper of silk. Zuko's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his gaze traveling over your body with unmistakable hunger.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, reaching for you. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I ask myself the same thing," you said, then gasped as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him.

This kiss was slower, deeper, a thorough exploration. His hands roamed your body, relearning curves and dips, finding the places that made you shiver. You did the same, mapping the planes of his chest, the muscles of his back, the sharp line of his hip.

"I love you," he whispered against your mouth. "I love you so much."

"Show me," you breathed back.

He did.

Zuko lifted you easily, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He followed you down, his body covering yours, his weight a welcome pressure.

"I'm sorry," he murmured between kisses. "For everything. For hurting you."

"I know," you gasped as his mouth found your throat. "I forgive you. I'm sorry too."

"Forgiven." His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, worshipping. "Let me make it up to you."

"Zuko—" Your words dissolved into a moan as his mouth moved lower, trailing fire across your skin.

He took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of you, until you were trembling beneath him. When you reached for him, trying to return the favor, he caught your hands and pinned them gently above your head.

"Not yet," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Let me take care of you first."

"But—"

"Please." He kissed you deeply. "I need this. I need to show you how much you mean to me."

You surrendered, letting him worship your body with hands and mouth until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more. Only then did he finally remove the last barriers between you, settling between your thighs with a reverence that made tears prick your eyes.

"I love you," he said again, his eyes locked on yours. "No matter what happens, no matter what we disagree about, I will always love you."

"I love you too," you whispered, pulling him down for a kiss.

When he finally entered you, it felt like coming home. You both gasped at the sensation, the perfect fit, the rightness of it. For a moment, you just stayed like that, joined completely, breathing together.

Then he began to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and meaningful.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his face buried in your neck. "So perfect."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Don't stop," you pleaded. "Please don't stop."

"Never," he promised, and increased his pace.

"Zuko," you gasped as the tension coiled tighter. "I'm close—"

"I know." His hand slipped between your bodies, finding the bundle of nerves that made you cry out. "Let go. I've got you."

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, pleasure radiating through every nerve. You cried out his name, your body arching beneath him, and felt him follow you over the edge with a groan.

For a long moment, you just held each other, trembling in the aftermath. Zuko's weight was heavy on you, but you didn't want him to move. You wanted to stay like this, connected, close, safe.

Eventually, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you pulled tight against him. His hand stroked through your hair, gentle and soothing.

"Are we okay?" he asked quietly.

You looked up at him, seeing the vulnerability still there in his eyes, the fear that maybe this hadn't fixed everything. "We're okay," you assured him. "We're going to be okay."

"I meant what I said," he continued. "About wanting you as my partner. Really my partner, not just my wife. I want your input on decisions. I want to hear your perspective, even when it's different from mine. Especially when it's different from mine."

"And I meant what I said about trusting you," you replied. "I don't have to agree with every decision to support you. But I need to feel like I'm part of the process."

"You will be." He kissed your forehead. "From now on, we make the big decisions together. Even if it takes longer, even if it's harder. Together."

"Together," you agreed, and sealed it with a kiss.

"Thank you," Zuko murmured sleepily.

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me. For fighting with me instead of just leaving. For loving me even when I'm difficult."

You smiled against his chest. "Thank you for the same. For being vulnerable with me. For letting me in."

"Always," he promised, and you believe him.

[aransmind]

MY MAN

[tinyfixon]

ATEEZ as cat breeds aka the post anon asked for — honourable mention of woosang as american shorthairs below the cut

[imthisyearsold]

San and Yunho for Workpoint 23

[yummydummyangel]

Put me in a headlock puhhheasddedded daddy

[yunhohohoho]

yuyu & yunho

bonus:

[wooyos]

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

YUNHO 🪐 NASA (260208)

[yeonlymine]

lady bugs & love letters ᢉ𐭩 yunho

happy valentine’s day. pssst — it’s always been you.

𑣲yunho x f!reader

𑣲wc: 8.4k (+bonus content of yunho pov at the end!!)

𑣲warnings!: soft smut, some angst if u squint rlly rlly hard, besties to lovers, smitten!yunho, worship dynamic, fluff, he's just a babbling lovesick sweetheart in this ok

this is a valentine's day gift for my secret cupid @eggielix!! writing this for you was so much fun. i have yunho brainrot now lmao, and i really hope it's everything you were hoping for. i tried to pour all my brain power and care i could into it. thank you so much to @everyonewooeverywhere for organizing this fic exchange, ily.

happy reading, and the happiest of valentine's days to you 💌

The saying ‘I hope your pillow is cold on both sides’ is supposed to be endearing, but now it feels more like…quite the opposite.

No heat from another person beside you, no heat coming in from your windows, just cold under your satin sheets.

You’re freezing, you don’t even want to come from under the covers to check your phone, check the date. You probably shouldn’t, it would only add to the despair.

But you do it anyway, because it’s your routine, a routine that maybe you should change because it’s Valentine’s Day, V-day, Love Day.

The day you’ve been trying to ignore in all of your adult life, but it’s evidence of it everywhere. Filters on Instagram, restaurants running themed promotions, the god damn dog being walked outside your window has on a V-Day sweater, even.

You roll your eyes, because what the fuck? Go back under your sheets, groan under your pillow, wish it could smother you itself.

But ma’am, it’s an inanimate object.

You eventually force yourself from under the covers, put on your slippers, and shuffle to the kitchen. Ironic as you look down and notice you’re wearing pink and red themed pjs.

You look in your empty pantry, empty fridge, and there’s nothing but bread to make toast. Just everything, empty.

It’s a holiday you try not to put stock in, but everything around you just reminds you of how lonely times can get.

Just one throw blanket on the couch instead of two, just one toothbrush in the holder, just one profile on your streaming services, one pair of slippers.

Have I finally made it to the age where I want consistent company?

Your home is your domain, it’s done up the way you like it, you’ve made it utterly you, but a piece of you sometimes wants to share that with someone.

Not just for one day, but for multiple days.

You grab your small watering can to water the numerous plants placed around the house, occupy your mind with watering everything else but yourself.

You make it to the big one by the window, the light shining through the curtains, it’s the best spot in the apartment, the prettiest light catches here.

He made sure of that when he placed it.

You see something cherry red peeking out the soil, you mistake it for a ladybug or some other small bug from afar. You definitely didn’t put your glasses or contacts on.

Without looking into it further, you pour water over the plant, notice no movement from the red thing sitting there.

Oh no, is it dead??? Did I just kill a ladybug on Valentine’s Day???? Luck is out the door, ain’t it?

You reach for the tip of what you think is a dead ladybug, but it’s not. The texture is not smooth, there are no spots when looking closer at it, and there are no legs.

Kay,’ not a bug. Then wtf is it?

You pull it completely out the damp soil, almost tear it. It’s a cherry red envelope, closed with a little pink heart sticker.

You hesitate, you think it’s a cruel prank being pulled. Maybe when you bought the plant that’s always been underneath the soil?

There’s no name on the outside, no address, nothing but a cute little sticker. It must be lost. Every odd scenario running through your head besides the practical one.

The light shining from the window almost makes it see through, you can tell there is a card inside. You open it gently, the paper is on its last leg due to drowning it in water.

It opens easily for you, as if it knew you’d find it in the most chaotic way. There’s more paper folded up inside, black ink bleeding through.

You uncrinkle it, and the fresh bleed is what gives it away that this envelope was not buried under the soil when you bought it.

It was just placed there, recently, just for you.

Your heart stops for a beat. Wait a damn minute.

You look around your apartment, taking note of the door, the windows, any shadows in the hallway leading to your room.

Everything looks the same, everything is in its usual spot, but someone was definitely here.

The edges are soft, the sticker is peeling slightly, paper breaking even more under your thumb.

When did he–?

Your heart is outside your body, the realization creeping up your spine. He was in your apartment, he knows where the spare key is, knows you water your plants every morning, knows you’d find this note on this day when you’re lonely and wearing ridiculous pjs.

The loneliness from earlier doesn't feel the same.

He always wrote legibly in the beginning, and it got a little messier towards the end. It’s something you’ve recognized since knowing him.

Since being knee high to towering over you now.

You automatically know it’s a prank, it has to be. You’d never think anything different.

It creates a smile on your face, still, at least the two of you can make some fun out of this otherwise depressing day.

You read it aloud, reading it outloud helps you imagine his voice, and that makes everything ten times better in your world.

“it’s cold, i know ur squinting reading this, so i wrote this in all caps. IT’S C-O-L-D. pls check ur closet for the scarf and earmuffs i left. remember when i said dont give up on me yet when studying for finals? meet me at the science library @ 12.”

You reread it, laugh to yourself, the damp letter that’s slowly falling apart in your hands. He knows you well, too well sometimes.

You have no idea what he has in store at the damn library, no clue why he didn’t just text you and say ‘let’s hang.’

You go to set the card in the windowsill in hopes it’ll dry out, you actually go to check your closet expecting something ridiculous, but it really is new earmuffs and a scarf.

Folded nicely in the deepest corner of your closet, like he intentionally tried to hide them. Must’ve noticed the tears and rips in your old ones.

You read the brand, same brand he wears, also smells like him. That cashmere scent he is always sporting is strong, makes your heart flutter at the mindfulness of it all.

You also noticed there’s a key to your front door underneath once you pick it up. He seriously made a spare key of my spare key, sneaky bastard.

You set the clothes out on your unmade bed, shuffle to the bathroom to get ready. You grab your lonely toothbrush, do your hair, and finally change out the pjs that’s giving you an eyesore.

You put the earmuffs and scarf on, layers on top of layers because you refuse to freeze. You look in the mirror, think he has nice taste, it’s your favorite colors after all. Favorite scent.

He wouldn’t have to buy me this if we just decided to hang at my house! He’s so random, I swear.

You turn off the lights and head towards your front door, grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet. The simple things that actually determine how your day is about to go.

You check your phone before putting your mittens on. It’s 11:30, you’re cutting it a tad close because you have to catch the subway to the library.

He can wait a few. Can’t believe he’s dragging me out in this weather.

You brace for the wind as you walk out your door and walk toward the station, you feel like your eyelids are about to freeze shut, and snowflakes hanging from your coat.

Once you’re out of the way of the wind, you whip out your phone to send a text, you’re that intrigued and annoyed.

you: this better be good or we’re not friends for like ten business days

yunyun: at least it’s not 20 like last time

You roll your eyes and take note of how fast he responded. He normally takes forever to respond, like you’re one of his many hookups since college.

As you’re waiting, you notice how your ears and neck aren’t cold, you hate when he’s right. You’re damn sure not going to let him know.

Matter of fact, I’m going to say my ears and neck are numb and got frostbite.

You get out of your thoughts as you hear the train coming up the tracks, and prepare to scramble for a seat, it seems everyone is on the thing today.

By the time you get off, you check your phone again, you’re right on time, 12 on the dot. The wind gusts are strong and blow your hood off.

You rush down the block to get to the library entrance, to get to some central heating, because you’re over it at this point.

You look up to see your favorite, unfavorite person in the world. He doesn’t notice you yet as he fidgets. His nose and cheeks are red, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ground.

He really waited for me out in the cold instead of the lobby.

After doing one more glance at the ground, he finally looks up at you with a smile, and you return it. You always adored how his smile puffed out his cheeks, he looks goofy in the cutest way.

Then his face changes, furrowing his brows as he strides over to you quickly. “Why the hell do you not have your hood on!?”

He pulls it back over for you. “It blew off, chill! The dramatics.”

“It’s cold out here.”

“Says the guy who was standing in it for who knows how long.” You tease him, the easiest thing for you to do, second nature. “Why did you pull me out in this, anyway?”

“Just wanted to do something fun, geez, c’mon.” He pulls you by your coat sleeve and leads you inside, the heat finally hitting your face, your whole body unthawing.

Yunho lets go of your coat as you follow him through the familiar library, making you nostalgic for your college days, even if it’s only been about two years.

It’s still dusty, carpet still has coffee stains that’ll never come out, couples studying instead of being on a date, midterm season.

“Soooo Yun, are we here to live in your glory days again? Likeeee?”

He glances back at you, doesn’t say anything, and continues walking. The man lowkey walks fast, and you have to put a little pep in your step.

Staring at other things makes you almost bump into his back. Notice he stopped at the private room you both called WD40 because the door squeaks like no other.

You two would book the room all the time, might as well write your names on the wall in permanent ink, seems like you can’t leave it alone.

He glances at you again, his face finally not as red as earlier. He’s a bit quieter than usual, he’s normally an auctioneer, but not right now.

He seems a little more tense, his shoulders haven’t relaxed since walking into the building. He didn’t make his jokes about the computers not working or his past hookup spots.

Just nothing, and that’s not the best friend you know. It makes you worry.

He’s terrible at keeping secrets. This is too strange.

The door clicks open, something taped to the chair that’s the same cherry red you saw in your apartment. It catches your eye immediately.

You have no clue what he’s playing at when he stands at the door and gestures to the chair. “Go grab it.”

He’s trying his best to be nonchalant about it, but his body shows otherwise. Deep down, he’s nervous and scared shitless, and you have no clue as to why.

You go to gently untape the envelope from the back of the chair. You turn to him, “Yunho, what the heck is this?”

“Can you just open it?”

You roll your eyes, you know how he likes games, but why a game on v-day and in your undergrad library?

You open it, you open this one with a little more intent since it’s not crumpling from water damage. His eyes don’t leave you.

“You want me to read it?”

“Did Sherlock Holmes ever solve a crime by not reading?”

“You’re shitting me right now, really, oh my gosh?????” The sarcasm is thick between the two of you, always has been, never see that changing.

“Read the damn thing even if it’s at a kindergarten level. I know the literacy rates are low nowadays.”

“Fuck you.” You grin as you unfold it, that same handwriting clear as day. You begin to read it outloud, wanna see if you can get a reaction from him.

“remember when i found u sleeping here after studying all night? u just finished crying ur eyes out about the boy who didnt know 2+2. u told me not to give up on you yet, seems like everyone was leaving ur world at the time. i’d take a look underneath the table if i were u :)”

Tears prickle at your eyes a bit, but you don’t let them flow. He pretends he’s looking away when you glance back at him, but you know he’s watching.

You listen to the instructions and look under the table. The Pocky he’d brought you that same night is taped to it, a small pick-me-up when you felt like your world was crashing around you.

It was so so small, but meant everything—

Means everything to you.

You don’t know why he’s doing this, you’re done trying to guess it. “Why are you being strange? What is this for?”

Yunho shrugs his shoulders with a slight smirk on his face as he stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, “It’s V-day. Can’t I do something nice for my best friend?”

“You’re never this nice.”

“Yes, I am!” He fake gasps, “How dare you!”

“Anywayssss–what’s next? Or did you only bring me here for the Pocky?” You whisper the next words, “Thanks, by the way, for then and now.”

He doesn’t respond right away, you’re still holding the Pocky, and you look down at it, notice it’s the same flavor from that night.

How does he remember the flavor, hell I barely remembered or didn’t wanna remember, but he did. 

You look at him, he’s looking away again, rubbing his neck. You see him a bit differently for once, something softer in his expression, but before you can dive deeper, he’s perking back up.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and gives you coordinates to a place that reads, 15h 34m, +26° 44’ “We’re not on an expedition, Yunho.”

He deadpans as he looks at you. “You have a phone gps that will take the coordinates and tell you where to go, duh.”

“Why couldn’t you just put the address?”

“That ruins the fun!”

“Fine, whatever, let’s go.” You huff as you enter the coordinates into the phone, it’s not too far from the library, but that does mean you have to walk in the cold once more.

You begin walking as Yunho moves you to the side of him, away from the street. He always did it subtly when walking along the street.

He’s quiet again. You glance up at him, he’s staring ahead with his hands in his pockets, tense.

The V-day decor haunts you on the walk there, flower vendors for last-minute shoppers, hearts on business windows, just love in the air. It’s just background noise.

Your phone buzzes, you’re expecting another name like your mom asking if you ate for the day, but it’s Jongho.

The guy from work who’s been trying to take you out for the longest.

Choi Jongho: happy valentine’s day! still down for drinks later?

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You were going to say yes earlier this week, or let’s say you thought you were.

You glance up at Yunho, he’s not looking at you. His eyes flicked to your phone screen for half a second before he looked away. His jaw is tense, hands shoved deeper into his pockets.

Hmmm.

You notice the shift between you, it feels wrong, not natural, and you can’t stand it. You don’t know if you’ll even see Jongho later, he’s a nice guy, you’ve considered it.

Never felt an urgency to see what Jongho’s about, though, and right now, walking while Yunho won’t look at you, you definitely don’t have that feeling.

You pocket your phone again without responding to the text, like your body is in autopilot.

“So,” you try to pull him back. “The coordinates thing is very, very extra, by the way. Did you have to Google how those work or—?”

“Probably.”

That’s it, just one word, so finite, no laugh, no ‘I spent an hour on Reddit figuring it out,’ nothing!

You look at him, he’s walking faster than before, you’re struggling to keep up the pace.

Does he care? If so, why?

You wonder if he’s being a protective friend, although he’s never been the one to be overbearing in your past relationships. He trusted your judgement always.

Maybe he thinks Jongho is a jerk? Doesn’t want this scavenger hunt to be interrupted?

Why, why, why.

“Yunho—” You stop yourself, you don’t know if you’re scared of the answer, if there even is one. So many possibilities running through your mind.

The silence just feels even heavier, like snow is piling up on your shoulders as you walk.

Yunho breaks it. “You should go.” His voice comes out tight, a little strained. “If you wanna.”

You stop in your tracks, look up at him. “Go where?” You know what he means, but you need to hear him say it, to mean it.

His expression is just off, wrong, his eyes are dark, and you can see the clench in his jaw. “Drinks. With–”

He doesn’t finish, can’t even utter the name. Your mittens are off, thumbs already moving.

you: no thxs, busy today.

sent.

You stare at your phone, confused, wondering what really triggered you to do that when you were planning to say yes before. But leaving Yunho feels impossible right now.

Choosing him like you’ve been doing for years and never clearly realized it.

I still don’t know why he’s upset, or why it matters so much, but I’m not gonna go.

You slide the phone back in your pocket once more, neither of you speaks.

You walk the rest of the way in near silence. Your breath fogs in the cold air, his does too. He fogs up his glasses in the process, but neither fills the space with a laugh or words.

You both have no clue what to say.

The energy from the library, the teasing, the mystery, the fun, it’s gone. Poof. Being replaced with something that feels like standing on a tightrope that’s about to snap.

You begin to see where your location is as you hear kids playing and see couples walking on strolls despite the weather.

You see the bench on the corner, the ice cream truck that’s always parked near the entrance. You pull out the gps again, then look up ahead, and your stomach flutters. You’re at the park.

The park.

You continue to look at where the gps is leading you by the exact coordinates.

To the spot where you’d drag blankets during sophomore year, where he’d bring hot chocolate in the most unconventional container that would go cold anyway. Where you learned what Alphecca looked like.

The small hill where the flowers and trees hold your secrets.

But it’s cold out, and those secrets seem to be dying out.

The grass is dead now, brittle under your shoes, the sky is in overcast with no stars in sight. You stop at the top and look around.

Seeing the city in the distance, couples laughing together, kids throwing woodchips. The air is harsh against your face, but you lean into it.

Yunho is looking at you and hasn’t moved his line of direction since.

“Where—” you begin, but then you see it.

Tucked under the edge of the bench, the one with your initials carved in the back from summer junior year, there’s another red envelope.

Your hands shake as you pick it up, not from the cold. You open this one slower, more cautious. Yunho is standing a few feet away from you.

This folded note has lines with dots in the margins, your initials scribbled, a little smiley face in the corner. You start reading the opening lines.

Your heart immediately flutters.

“you asked me once if anyone still loves like that. enough to make someone eternal–”

You smile at the first two sentences.

“you told me about the crown in the stars, how ariadne got hers. u wanted that too. i remembered, dont give up on me yet.”

Your heart gets tugged on even more. This is so sweet, so thoughtful.

This note is a bit longer as you continue to read it.

“i think about that night on this hill. junior year, midterms weeks. you were crying over a test you thought you failed—”

Your breath catches, a puff of air evident in the sky. “and i brought you here bc u said the library made you feel like u were suffocating. i pointed out alphecca. u said the stars didnt care about ur gpa.”

You’re smiling even bigger now. You remember that night so clearly, the way he made you laugh, how you felt safe just being in his presence.

“you told me you felt like you were drowning. that everyone expected you to be fine all the time and you didnt know how to ask for help.”

You smile falters just a bit. You said that and remember say it, but that was—

The cold air stings, but you barely feel it. You didn’t post about that night, didn’t text anyone after. It was just private.

“ –i told u the stars were older than any test score. that failing one exam wouldnt erase you.” That’s exactly what he said, word for word.

Your chest tightens, reread to make sure nothing was misread. This isn’t paraphrased, nor is it a general memory someone could’ve pieced together from stories.

It’s exact, it’s what he said when no one else was listening.

You glance in the margin again, there’s another note scribbled there, super small and slanted.

“(i wanted to hold ur hand that night. i didnt think i was allowed to)”

You burn holes into those words. I wanted to hold your hand.

The closeness of it makes your throat tight. It’s not just remembering a nice moment. It’s someone confessing their thoughts, feelings, what they wanted to do but didn’t.

Your fingertips trace the ink.

You look up at Yunho, he’s already watching you. His fingers pressing into his temples, his rings catching the light as his hands shake.

His face has gone pale, but his cheeks are still red, and when his eyes meet yours, they look terrified. Like he’s been waiting for this moment and dreading it at the same time.

He opens his mouth, closes it, then looks away.

Only two people were on that hill. You and him.

You try to rationalize, come up with a different theory. Maybe you’d told someone else? But no, you didn’t, and you know that.

And Yunho wouldn’t tell someone else about it…would he? Why would he give someone else that story to use?

Unless.

The pieces are forming a puzzle, and you don’t want to see the final picture.

Now your heart is pounding for a totally different reason.

You force yourself to keep reading, there’s more.

“you asked me if i thought you’d ever figure it out. figure out what you wanted to do with your life. i said yes without hesitation.”

There’s another margin note, it’s messier, like it was added at the last minute.

“(i knew even then. i think i’ve always known)”

Known what?

Your eyes skim down to the bottom of the note, “don’t give up on me yet.”

That phrase has been present in every note, below it, coordinates to another location. They show an address you don’t need to map.

amity ln.

You know that corner, it has a broken streetlight. Where it rained last spring, the kind that soaks through your jacket no matter how waterproof it is.

You’d both been laughing, because you two were never the type to check the forecast before heading out. You’d said something along the lines of the universe hating you, not being in your favor ever.

That’s when he stopped walking, just stopped, right there on the corner. Water streaming down his face, glasses completely useless. He’d looked at you like he was drowning in more than just rain.

Like he was about to say something that would change everything, and then he didn’t. You’d pulled him under a bus stop awning, the moment passed, and you never asked.

But you remember the look, it’s seared into your mind now. Your chest is caving in and you can’t control it.

You don’t look at him, you can’t. If you look at him now, you’ll ask, and if you ask he’ll answer, and if he answers…

You start walking.

Not toward the park entrance, but to the street, Amity. You hear him behind you, his footsteps are moving quickly, trying to keep up.

The cold really bites at your face, but your legs are moving, and your mind is trying to make sense of what you’re doing.

Please let me be wrong.

You don't remember walking there. Just footsteps behind you. His, too close. Then you're standing in front of Amity Lane.

The broken streetlight's still there. Same fractured glow on the wet pavement, slush everywhere because February can't commit to snow or rain. The corner looks exactly like it did.

Red envelope taped to the light post.

Your initials in his handwriting.

Oh, fuck.

Yunho's gone completely still behind you. Close enough, you could reach back.

Don't. Don't think about that.

His breathing is uneven. You turn around, and he looks wrecked.

Hair everywhere from the wind, glasses fogged up and crooked, eyes red like he's been crying or trying really hard not to. His jaw keeps clenching. And his hands, he's adjusting his rings. One, then the other, then back. Over and over.

He won't look at you, but you're looking at him.

"I'm sorry."

Oh no no no

His voice is so quiet a car driving past almost drowns it out. "For what?" Wrong question. You know for what. You know.

His hand goes to the back of his neck, fingers digging in. "For—for doing it like this. I didn't—I couldn't—"

He stops, adjusts his rings again, stares at his hands.

God, his hands are so pretty, I can't even—

FOCUS.

"I didn't know how else to—" He swallows. "To tell you."

And there it is.

Your heart is beating so hard, everything's clicking into place and you're actively trying to un-click it. The notes. The memories. The way he's been looking at you all morning.

"This isn't a prank." Your voice comes out flat and dead.

"It's you."

He finally looks at you, the answer's written all over his face, and it's killing him.

"It's—yeah. It's me." His voice cracks. "It's—I—"

"It's always been me."

Silence, just traffic and your heartbeat and the sound of your world ending.

"Since—" He drags a hand down his face. "God, since high school? Maybe—I don't even—I don't know anymore, I just—"

He's not making sense, he's breaking apart in real time.

"I didn't tell you because you're—you're my best friend and I couldn't—" His voice breaks completely. "I couldn't lose that. Lose you."

Oh my god.

"Every time I thought about saying something I'd just—I'd imagine you looking at me different. Like I ruined it. Like I made it weird and you'd start—you'd pull away and I—"

He stops. Swallows. Starts again.

"I couldn't. I couldn't risk it."

His glasses are completely fogged. He takes them off, rubs the bridge of his nose with shaking fingers.

"So why now?" Your voice barely makes it out.

"Because yesterday I saw you on your phone and you were smiling and I thought—" His laugh is broken, hollow. "I thought maybe you were texting him. Jongho. And then this morning you got that text about drinks and you looked—you looked like you wanted to say yes."

Well shit.

"And I just panicked, because I realized I was gonna lose you anyway. Not because I told you but because I didn't. Because I was too scared and someone else wasn't and—"

His voice cracks. "I'm so tired of pretending I'm not in love with you."

No. Wait.

Wait wait wait—

"I almost told you that night," he says, quieter now. "Right here. In the rain. We were laughing, and then you looked at me, and I thought if I said it and you didn't—if you didn't feel the same, I'd lose even that. The way you looked at me."

Your eyes are burning, but you're not crying. I’m not.

"So I thought if I could just show you. Remind you of all the times I was there, all the moments that mattered, maybe you'd—"

"The notes," you say.

"Yeah." He still won't look at you. "I kept writing 'don't give up on me yet' because I was scared you'd just walk away." 

You're frozen, every word landing like a punch, he's been carrying this for years.

All this time. It's been him. The whole time. And I—

The thought won't finish. It catches, snags, dies. 

Because if it's been him, then the way you always text him first when something good happens.

The way you'd rather crash on his couch than sleep in your own bed.

This morning. Standing outside the library in the cold, the pocky thing. The way you've replayed that memory over and over without understanding why.

The park, the stars. Every single time he showed up and you let him, wanted him to, without question.

Jongho's text, the way you said no without even thinking about it.

No no no.

Because that would mean…Oh god, you absolute idiot.

Every time you thought about moving on, you called him, every time someone else looked at you, you compared them to.

"In love with you."

The words echo in your head and you can't breathe because you thought you just loved him safely. Thought what you had was too important to name. 

Thought if you never said it out loud it wouldn't be real, wouldn't be dangerous, wouldn't be something you could lose.

But it's been there, growing, rooting so deep you didn't even notice until he ripped it out into the open.

I've been in love with him too. I've been in love with him too.

How did I not—

"You thought I'd—" Your voice comes out strangled. "Yunho, I—"

The words are stuck. You can't, you can't do this.

You can't stand here and watch him think you're about to walk away, so you close the gap.

You kiss him and it's a mess. His glasses dig into your cheek and your noses bump and you don't care. Your fingers grip his coat, pulling him closer.

His hands find your face, shaking, desperate.

When you break apart you're both breathing hard, cold air between you. His eyes are still closed and you can feel him trembling.

He laughs, broken, disbelieving. "Don't give up on me yet?"

You kiss him again, softer this time. It's your answer under the broken streetlight on Amity Lane, where it almost happened before, it finally does.

You don't remember deciding to go back to his place.

Just his hand in yours the entire subway ride. You took your mittens off because you needed to feel his skin and now your fingers are freezing but you don't care.

Are we—? Is this—?

Every time the train jolts he steadies you, hand at your waist. And it's stupid but your chest does that thump thump thing again, and you're trying not to think about it too hard because if you think about it you'll spiral.

Oh my god, I kissed him. Under the streetlight.

He said he's been in love with me since high school and I just—

You glance at him, he's staring at your joined hands. His thumb keeps twitching, not circles or anything romantic just nervous energy he can't contain and it's so him you want to cry.

Don't cry on the subway. Do not cry on the subway.

When you reach his building he fumbles with his keys, drops them.

"Sorry, I—" He bends down, picks them up, tries again.

You just stand there watching him struggle with the lock like an idiot because what are you supposed to do? Help? Say something?

What do you even say after???

The door finally clicks and you follow him inside.

His apartment is warm, always tidy. You've been here a thousand times but it feels different now. He helps you out of your coat and his fingers brush your shoulders and you both freeze.

"Sorry," he says.

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry—I mean—" He stops. Laughs. Runs a hand through his hair. "God, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Me neither."

That seems to help. His shoulders drop a little and you're just standing there. In his doorway. Like you haven't been here a million times before.

Why is this so weird? It's not weird. It's definitely weird.

You reach up and fix his glasses because they're still crooked from the kiss and your hands are steadier than you expected. He goes completely still, eyes locked on yours, and for a second neither of you breathes.

"Do you want—" His voice cracks. He clears his throat. "Juice? Water? I can—"

"Yunho." He stops.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

He laughs again, breathless and a little broken. "I don't know. Are you actually here?"

"I'm here."

His hand comes up like he's going to touch your face, hesitates halfway, then does it anyway. Palm against your cheek. Thumb under your eye, his hand is still shaking so bad.

"Yeah," he whispers. "You are."

Then he drops his hand and disappears into his room. No warning, no explanation, just gone.

You stand there listening to him rummage around. Drawers opening and closing, something hits the floor, he swears under his breath.

What is he—?

When he comes back he's holding a shoebox.

Old and beat-up. The kind that used to hold his basketball sneakers in high school, you remember because he wore them until they literally fell apart and you made fun of him for it.

He sets it on the coffee table. "I, uh." He swallows. "I wrote you letters. A lot of them. I just—I never sent them."

Your brain stalls."What?"

"You don't have to read them," he says quickly. "I just thought—I don't know. I wanted you to know it wasn't just today. It's been—" He stops. "A long time."

Letters? How many is "a lot"?

You move to the couch and sit. Stare at the box as it might explode.

It's worn, edges soft from being opened over and over. The lid's dented like he's gripped it too hard too many times.

You lift the lid, and there are dozens. Envelopes, folded notebook paper, napkins, receipts, whatever he had on hand, apparently. Some are sealed, some aren't. 

The dates span years. One from high school, sophomore year of college, and last spring. Your hands are shaking when you pull one out at random.

Last spring.

"i dont know how to tell u this, so im writing it down instead. maybe one day ill be brave enough (i wont be)"

You can't breathe, another one.

"you fell asleep on my arm bc you had horrible cramps. i didnt move for hours. my arm went completely numb and i didnt even care."

Another.

"you said you didnt believe in soulmates, but i think ive been trying to prove you wrong since we were sixteen."

Your vision blurs and you're trying not to cry. You set the letters down carefully because your hands won't stop shaking and you look up at him.

He's watching you, waiting for it to be too much, waiting for you to leave.

"You've been—" Your voice breaks. "God, Yunho, you've been doing this the whole time and I didn't—"

"You couldn't have known."

"But I should've—"

"No." He shakes his head. "I didn't let you."

You cross the space between you. You're kissing him and his hands find your waist and pull you closer and you end up half in his lap, fingers in his hair.

When you pull back just enough to breathe, his eyes are wide. Lips red and parted and oh so gorgeous, like he’s pleading. 

We're really doing this. "Don't stop," you whisper.

His hands tighten on your hips. "Are you—are you sure?"

"I'm so fucking positive."

He stands, pulling you with him, and you follow him down the hall.

You make it to his room, and the door clicks shut behind you. He kisses you, backing you toward the bed until your knees hit the mattress.

But you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. His eyes open, confused and worried, like he’s done something wrong.

“Sit,” you say softly.

He blinks, “what?”

“Sit down, Yun.”

He sits immediately, sinks onto the edge of the bed without question, looking up at you. His hands hover at his sides, uncertain of what to do with them.

“You can touch me,” you tell him, stepping between his knees.

“I just—I’m gonna wake up and hate myself.”

His hands find your hips gently, his fingers tremble against your jeans. You cup his face, tilt his chin up so he has to look at you. “If you wake up, I’m gonna haunt you anyway soooo.”

He exhales, and you lean down to kiss again. You pull back just enough to reach for the hem of his shirt. He lifts his arms without you having to ask, and you pull it over his head, tossing it behind you.

For a moment, you just look at him, the lean lines, the way his chest rises and falls, his long limbs, the redness creeping up his neck.

“You’re staring,” he mutters, trying to sound normal about it. Eye’s still locked on yours.

You smile, drag a finger down his chest. “You stood in the cold for me. I think that earns you a little attention.”

His eyes widen. “You–”

“Shh,” you cut in and work his belt loose. “I’m appreciating the view.”

He helps you with his pants, lifting his hips so you can slide them down, and he’s sitting in just his boxers, looking up at you.

When you start undressing your layers, his hands hover like he wants to help. You guide them to your shirt, and he pulls it over your head slowly.

“You’re so—I’ve thought about this so many times, and it’s—you’re—”

You kiss him so he stops, and he makes a broken sound against your mouth. His hands are all over your skin. When you’re finally down to just your underwear, he presses his forehead to your stomach, breathing hard.

“I love you,” he whispers against your skin. “I love you so much.”

You tug at his hair gently, “Show me, please.”

He kisses your stomach, you giggle as it tickles, and the space between your breasts, every touch leaves you aching. You push him back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

When you climb onto his lap, straddling his hips, he goes to grip your thighs. “You good?” You ask, rolling your hips, and he gasps.

“Yeah, I—” His head tips back, exposing his throat, his adam’s apple. “Fuck, yes.”

You take your time as you trail your hands over his chest and shoulders. You like watching the way his breath catches and the way his fingers grip your skin, the way he bites his lip trying to hold himself together.

“Please,” he breathes.

“Let me—”

He nods, and when you reach between you to touch him, he buries his face in your neck. “Is this okay?” you ask, even though you can feel how much he wants this.

“Yes. Yes, please I—” he can’t even finish the sentence, holds you tighter, hands sliding up your back.

You learn what makes him gasp, what makes his grip tighten, what makes him say your name. He's so vulnerable for you, every reaction clear on his face. 

When you shift to slide your underwear off, he helps you, and when you finally sink down his reaction is overwhelming. He buries his face in your shoulder and makes sounds that make your heart flutter.

"Oh my god," he chokes out. "Goodness gracious, I–"

You stay still so you both can adjust, he's trembling beneath you.

Fuck, I love you.

You start to move slowly, and he follows, wait is this too much? No, he's matching you perfectly, his hands are all over, but every touch asks for permission. 

You lean down to kiss him, and he kisses you back so desperately that you can feel the years of want between the two of you.

"You feel—" he starts, then loses it, a breathless laugh catching in his throat. "I'm sorry. I can't get a full sentence out."

"That's okay," you lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You don't have to."

His head tips back again, and when you kiss along his jaw, he lets out a sound that's half gasp, half a laugh. Like he's almost embarrassed.

You pull back just enough. "You okay?"

He nods, but his eyes are glassy and his hands won't stop shaking where they're gripping your hips. "Yeah. Yeah, I just—"

He's overwhelmed.

You slow down, stop. His eyes snap open.

"Don't—" His voice cracks. "Please don't stop."

"I'm not." You brush his hair back from his forehead. It's damp with sweat and sticking up and he looks destroyed already. "Just checkin’."

"I'm good," he breathes. "I'm so—good, you have no idea."

Actually, I think I do.

Because he's looking at you like you’re the crown in the stars he’s been trying to earn. Like every letter was a breadcrumb back to this exact constellation. 

Years. He waited years.

The thought hits you sideways and you have to kiss him again just to ground yourself. He makes a sound against your mouth and his hips shift up.

You start moving again, slower this time, and his hands slide up, god his hands are everywhere, my favs.

"You're so—" He tries, fails, tries again. "I don't know how to—you're everything."

He wrote you letters he never sent.

He planned an entire scavenger hunt just to tell you.

"Yunho," you whisper, and his eyes focus on you. Waiting, always waiting for whatever you need.

You lean down and kiss him. His hands come up to cup your face and when you pull back his eyes are wet.

"Are you crying?"

"No." He laughs, breathless. "Maybe. Shut up."

"Little bit."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing." You roll your hips and he gasps, fingers tightening on your waist. "You're allowed to feel things."

"I'm feeling everything," he chokes out. "I can't—I don't know how to. It’s so loud."

You pick up the pace and he follows you as his head tips back against the pillow again and you watch his face.

"Look at me," you say. Perfect, he’s so perfect.

Then his hips shift up to meet yours, you both gasp, and you lose the thought. Just sensation. The weight of him beneath you, the sounds he's making.

"I love you," he says again, "I love you, I love you."

"I know." Your voice breaks. "I know, I—"

Say it back. You should say it back.

What if you say it wrong? What if it's not enough after everything?

"Hey." His hand cups your face, thumb under your eye. "You don't have to say it yet."

How does he—?

"I can wait," he whispers. "I've waited this long."

That undoes you completely.

You kiss him so hard you both lose your breath and your teeth hit his. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you're moving together now, no rhythm.

He's saying your name between kisses, and you're trying not to cry because this is Yunho.

Your Yunho.

Who's been in love with you since you were kids and never said a word because he didn't want to lose you.

"I'm close," he gasps against your mouth.  “I'm sorry, I can't—"

"What did I say about apologizing!" You're breathless. Shaking. "Just—"

His whole body goes still beneath you, and buries his face in your neck. You feel him trembling, feel the way his hands grip you. 

"I love you," he whispers into your skin. "I love you so much."

God, you..."I love you too." It comes out quiet, but it's there.

He pulls back, those big, pretty eyes wide and wet and so full. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You're crying. "I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to—"

He kisses you, and when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard. Foreheads pressed together. 

"Hey there," he whispers.

You laugh, broken and wet. "Hey."

"Can we just—" He swallows. "Can we stay like this for a second?"

Duh, of course we can.

You nod, and he pulls you down against his chest. His heartbeat is racing beneath your ear. His fingers trace patterns on your back.

"I can't believe this is real," he murmurs into your hair.

"You and me both."

You tilt your head up to look at him. His glasses are somewhere on the floor. His hair's a mess. He smiles and pulls you closer.

–

You wake up to sunlight filtering through curtains and the weight of an arm draped across your waist.

For a second, you lie there. Processing. 

The events of yesterday crash back in waves, the scavenger hunt, the park, the confession, the oh my god we had sex part that your brain is still trying to categorize as "things that actually happened in real life."

Yunho's still asleep. You can feel his breath against the back of your neck. His fingers are loosely curled against your stomach.

This actually happened.

You should probably freak out. Do the whole "what does this mean"  morning after spiral. Panic about how this changes everything. But instead, you just feel warm.

Safe, like the cold side of the pillow wasn’t supposed to last this long. 

Yunho shifts behind you, mumbling something into your hair. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel him wake up in stages.

The slight hitch in his breathing, the way he goes very still, the soft "oh" against your shoulder when he remembers.

His voice is rough with sleep, muffled against your skin. "You didn’t run away, impressive work."

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe I dreamed it." He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. "Thought I'd wake up and you'd be gone and I'd have to pretend yesterday didn't happen."

You turn in his arms to face him, he's squinting at you without his glasses and he looks so soft it makes your chest ache.

"I'm not going anywhere," you say.

He smiles, small and disbelieving, and cups your face with one hand. "Okay."

You lie there for a while, just looking at each other. His thumb traces your cheekbone. His cheeks puff when he smiles, dimples cutting in deeper on one side. You noticed it freshman year, memorized and never admitted to it, but now you’re allowed to stare without pretending it doesn’t make your heart ache. 

"I'm starving," you finally admit.

What if I'm bad at this?

What if I'm a terrible girlfriend and he realizes he's been in love with an IDEA of me and not the actual disaster human who forgets to text back and leaves dishes in the sink—

He's still looking at you like the stars.

Okay, we're fine.

He laughs. "Yeah?"

"Scavenger hunts and emotional devastation really work up an appetite."

"We could—" He hesitates. "We could go get breakfast? If you want. There's that place you like with the—"

"Those special waffles?"

"Yeah." He's watching your face. "We could do that. If you want."

He's nervous like this is a first date and not the morning after we finally got our shit together.

"I want to get breakfast with you."

His whole face lights up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But you're buying. You owe me after putting me through emotional hell yesterday."

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "Fair. That's fair."

"And I'm getting extra strawberries."

"Whatever you want."

"And whipped cream."

"Done."

"And—"

He kisses you. "I'll buy you the whole menu if you want. Just—" Another kiss. "Just don't give up on me yet."

You freeze and pull back to look at him.

He's grinning now, that stupid grin. "Did you just—"

"I've been waiting to use that in context," he admits. "Thought it would be romantic."

"You're an idiot."

"Your idiot."

"Yeah," you whisper. "My idiot."

He kisses you again, and you lose a few minutes to the taste of him and the overwhelming reality that you get to have this now. That you get to keep him.

"Breakfast," you manage.

"Right. Breakfast." He doesn't move.

"Yunho."

"I know. I just—" He cups your face, looking at you like he's trying to ingrain this into his brain. "I really love you."

I’m going to cry again.

"I love you too," you whisper. "Now feed me before I change my mind."

He laughs and kisses your forehead and rolls out of bed to find his glasses, and you lie there for a second, watching him move around his room in the morning light, and think.

You're allowed to be happy, you absolute disaster.

You're allowed to—

He glances back at you, still shirtless, glasses slightly crooked, smiling.

Yeah, okay. I can do this. 

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

BONUS CONTENT [YUNHO POV]

୨ৎlove letter

march 23

okay so i'm writing this at 2am which is probably a bad sign but whatever. you're never going to see this anyway. i'll shove it in the drawer with the other six (seven? i lost count) letters i've written and been too chickenshit to send.

i don't even know where to start. that's a lie. i know exactly where to start but i don't know how to say it without sounding completely pathetic.

you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re lying. not big lies. little ones. “i’m not tired.” “i’m fine.” “it didn’t bother me.” you always do it twice before you say the sentence.

you hum the same notes when you’re scrolling. they’re wrong every time. i’ve tried to figure out what song it is. it’s not a real song. it’s just you.

you pretend you don’t like physical touch but you fall asleep on my shoulder every single time we watch something past 10pm. you say it’s because you’re tired. it’s not.

you read the last page of books first when you’re anxious. you told me that once and then made me swear not to judge you. i don’t. i just think about how badly i want to know what you’re going to do before you do it.

you say you don’t believe in soulmates but you still look up at the sky when you see the first star. every time.

i don’t think you realize how obvious you are. i don’t think you realize how obvious i’ve been.

your sense of direction is terrible. i know it stresses you out. i know you hate asking for help. but i love that you ask me. that you grab my arm when you think we're lost and look up at me like i have all the answers.

i don't. i'm just as lost as you are. just in a different way.

i'm not the guy who says this stuff out loud. i'm not smooth. i'm not confident. i'm not the guy who makes grand gestures or knows what to say.

i'm just stuck. completely stuck on you and i don't know how to be anything else.

i've tried. i've tried to be happy when you date other people. tried to be the supportive best friend who listens and doesn't leave the room when it gets too hard. tried to move on.

but i can't.

i can't watch you fall for someone else and pretend it doesn't kill me. can't keep acting like this is fine.

it's not fine. i'm not fine.

i've been in love with you for so long i don't remember what it felt like before. and i know you don't feel the same way. i know i'm just your friend. the guy you call when you can't sleep or when you need help with directions or when you just want someone to sit with you and not talk.

maybe that's enough. maybe it has to be.

but god i wish i was braver. wish i could tell you this to your face. wish i could risk everything just to know if there's even a chance.

anyway. it's 2:55 now and i have work in five hours and i'm still writing this like it matters. like you're ever going to read it.

you won't, but maybe someday i'll be brave enough to tell you for real. maybe someday i won't be so terrified of ruining everything.

maybe someday you'll look at me the way i've been looking at you.

don't give up on me yet.

— y

(god that sounds so dramatic. i'm leaving it though. it's 2am and i'm allowed to be dramatic.)

୨ৎtext exchanges

12:26am> did you eat

i typed it. deleted it. tyyped it again. i know she hates when people ask that, so i rephrased.

12:26am>did u survive dinner

she sent a picture of half a granola bar and said, “thriving.” i sent skull emojis and offered to drop food off. i was already in my car.

11:11pm>make a wish 

i've been sending that for years, i never tell her what mine is, i don’t need to. she knows now.

my love>  you’ve been like this the whole time haven’t you

i stared at that text for a full minute, because “the whole time” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

i typed: yeah. sorry.

because loving her quietly for years feels like something i should apologize for.

my love> don’t be.

and for the first time, i didn’t feel stupid about it.

୨ৎmusic playlist: wd40 door

wave to earth – bad i can't stop replaying it. the way she said my name today when she was distracted, just yunho like it was nothing. my phone's still in my hand. screen's too bright. i should sleep. i'm not gonna sleep. i know how long it takes her to text back. 3 minutes if she's busy. 30 seconds if she's not.i know her breathing changes when she's about to fall asleep on my couch. i know she touches her neck when she's nervous. i know too much. way too much. this song is so slow it makes my chest hurt. if i just don't say anything maybe it'll stop. 

mau narrator voice: it will not stop.

sza – garden she laughed at his joke. his. not mine. i was sitting right there and she was texting someone. i don't know who, i didn't look, i'm not that guy except i kind of am because my stomach did this thing. this ugly jealous thing. and i smiled. i smiled like "oh that's funny" and i wanted to throw my phone into the moon. the bass in this song sits wrong. like something heavy. lie to me, lie to me, yeah. i don't even want her to lie. i want her to look at me the way she looks at literally anyone else when they're funny. i came home and laid face-down on my bed for 20 minutes. mingi asked if i was okay. i said yeah. i'm such a liar. i'm not the chill best friend. i'm actively losing my shit on a daily basis and no one knows.

beverly – again okay so this song. this fucking song. it starts quiet, right? like you could still back out. like you could still just not say it. keep it in. stay safe. but then it builds and it's like my heart is louder than the street noise, louder than the train, louder than every single reason i have to keep my mouth shut. i listened to this on the way to buy the cards. i listened to it again while i was writing the last one. it's the streetlight song. it's the what if i just song. the moment right before i decide that losing her because i stayed quiet would be worse than losing her because i told the truth. i'm gonna do it. i'm gonna tell her. oh my god i'm gonna throw up.

josh makazo & jean seizure – sights where do i put my hands. no seriously where the fuck do i put my hands. i've looked at her a thousand times, across the table, across the couch, in the driver's seat while she picks the music, in my peripheral vision while pretending to watch movies. but now she's in front of me and i'm allowed to touch her and my brain is just. gone. static. i can hear myself breathing. that's embarrassing. she says my name and it doesn't sound like teasing. this song builds, it leans in, and that's what i'm doing. i'm leaning in. slow. trying not to rush. trying not to fuck this up. just me finally putting my hands on her after years of keeping them to myself. my mouth is so dry. i'm terrified. i'm doing it anyway.

rocco – in the morning she's still here. i woke up and she's still here. i'm not moving. if i move it breaks. if i move she disappears. this is the dream, right? this is the one where i wake up and she's gone. but i can feel her breathing. i can feel her. i press my face into her shoulder and i'm thinking please don't disappear please don't disappear please, and then she turns toward me. and she's still here. she's still here. oh my god she's still here.

[uchihabbynic]

This was so beautiful im crying 😭😭