Thorned, P.sh

— thorned, p.sh

wc: 1.1k || g: angst, best friends to enemies, gn!reader || w: explicit language, arguing || nets + tag list: @kflixnet @k-radio @enhypenwriters @ficscafe + @soobin-chois

Park Sunghoon is like a flower, you like to think. He's gracious and colorful, and you think he smells nice, too. He attracts people like pollen and bees, though he doesn't seem to enjoy the fact that he does.

He doesn't mind you, though.

The sun shines warm on his flushed skin as he watches you scribble and scratch a pencil against paper. "Having you draw me a portrait is flattering, but how long do I have to stay in this position? My arm's getting sore." Whines Sunghoon as he stretches his arm and rolls his shoulder.

Poking the end of your pencil to his thigh, you wipe the eraser residue off your notebook and sneer, "Oh, shush, you. I know very well Jay forces you to lift with him, so put that muscle into use for once."

"Oh, I will."

In a quick motion, Sunghoon lunges forward, fingers fisting the material of your shirt. You yell in attempts to slap his hands away from tickling your torso, wheezing a loud cackle as your sketchbook slides out of your lap.

"Park- Park Sunghoon you get away- get away from me right now!" Between laughs, you squirm and press your knee against his stomach, squinting when the sun glares it's light into your eyes because you'd fallen over.

Sunghoon makes an effort to shield himself over you, his hair ticking the top of your head when he asks if the sun isn't blinding you anymore. Your chest swells in something you don't want to admit.

Your best friend means the world to you. The bond you have means the world to you. But the gut feeling of something stronger than what you call a “friend” nulls out every rational thought in your being. It eats you up sometimes that it’s overwhelming and panicking, and you don’t think you can bear that feeling anymore.

"Look," You whisper. He hums, still in a playful nature as he raises his brows.

"I'm being serious, Sunghoon."

"I'm all ears, Y/N."

There’s a lump in your throat that swallows your words before you can spit them out, you don’t know if it’s one of fear of losing the one friendship you cherish with your life, or one of fear of finally admitting your feelings.

"Y/N? I didn’t make you shy now, did I? Or did drawing me enlighten you of your privilege as my best friend? You flat-”

“I think I love you.” Your words come out slow, almost as if the lump had tried to steal your voice before it’d come out. Sunghoon gives you a small smile and your body turns aflame in hopes that maybe, he feels the same way.

“I love you too.”

It’s absurd that Park Sunghoon has the power to make you hot or cold as if you were a light switch. Sunghoon smiles like what you’d said was a joke.

You frown. He won't take you seriously. He never does. Now you realize that from the start, he'd never listen. You don't think he'll ever. It's a spiral; he gets you high every time, but it all crashes down with another realization that he might never appreciate you as much as you do him.

“I’m not joking,” You bite, sitting up and pushing him off you. Again, the sun glares at you, but you don’t feel one bit warm.

You don’t fail to see Sunghoon’s smile falter, you never do. Sighing, a smile so sarcastic it twists your stomach plays his lips, “I knew you were too good.”

“What?”

“I can’t have something we have-” He pauses. “well, something I thought we had, without you taking advantage of the time we spent together.” You emit a scoff, one of shock. “Taking advantage of the time we spent together? Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Y/N. You just told me you liked me, I’ll assume everything else you’ve been doing without telling me. Tell me, was it fun having me around like a little pet?”

“Sunghoon, do you hear yourself right now? Get your head out of your ass, you fucking prick.” You stand up, grabbing your sketchbook and supplies and shuffling your shoes back onto your feet. Following suit, Sunghoon doesn’t bother fetching for his shoes, the grass stinging his feet but he doesn’t care for it and rushes after you.

“Get my head out of my ass? You’re the one enjoying whatever I had to do with you. You’re not thinking about how much this is paining me-”

“You’re not thinking about it either!” Your voice cracks, something you sense Sunghoon hadn’t expected to happen. The wind carries your words through the field and back to where you’d been doodling his portrait, where Sunghoon had reeled out all the laughs you had in you, where you wished you’d be with a shut mouth.

“You think I want to love you? You think I don’t want things to be the same?” With your words, comes a weight pushing down against Sunghoon’s chest. “I don’t love you, Sunghoon. I love the person I’d spent those nights with. I love the person who’d run miles from his house to mine. I love my best friend.”

Your eyes are glassy and beautiful, realizes Sunghoon. They’re beautiful and enraged.

“You- this-” You push his shoulder away and he hadn’t realized he’d been inching closer to you. “This is not my best friend. This is not who I love.”

With your whole chest, you seethe through your teeth: “I hate you.”

He laughs, it makes you more mad. “I fucking hate me too.” You take one step, two steps away. “I pity you, Sunghoon, I really do.” The side of your mouth twitches up in a smile of disbelief. “But until you see anything more past that ego- or hate, I don’t know- of yours, I don’t think anyone could love you. I tried. I thought I did at one point.”

Sunghoon can’t seem hear properly— as if he'd been dunked underwater— when you start to walk away. He hears his heavy breathing, his heart beating in his ears. He hears cicadas buzzing and the faint rustle of grass following the image of your figure.

There’s something hot on his face. He wipes it with his fingers. It’s wet and hot. He’s crying, his breathing is quick and shallow and of panic. Sunghoon had pushed you away in fear of being hurt, but had hurt you in the process. It dawns on him the cost of it all.

Park Sunghoon is a flower, you like to think. He’s gracious and colorful, but he’s thorned. He’s thorned and masked and nearly untouched— he’d hurt the one person who’d made an effort to reach.

© riki-soba, 2022

m.list

a/n: haha angst, how was it?

people like us.

pairing: doctor!yuta x bartender!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: you know you can’t get involved with nakamoto yuta, but you were never really good at following the rules anyway.

author’s note: hi so this is a spinoff of and stupidly, us but it can also be read as a standalone! dedicated to the lovely j ( @lxomoons ) ♡

warning(s): there is violence/use of weapons in this so steer clear if that bothers you!

Another night, another fight. 

You’re no stranger to having to deal with drunken men brawling with each other for a reason that they themselves can’t even remember. Usually, you can settle it pretty quickly, but you seem to be out of luck today. As you try to calm down one of the men, you get an accidental (and quite nasty) right hook to the face. He hits you so hard that you crash onto the floor and directly onto shards of a broken shot glass. Luckily, your arm takes the brunt of the impact and you get away with a small gash on your forearm. 

By the time you pull yourself together, (the extremely late) security is already hauling the men away. You’re still seeing stars as you shakily stand up, feeling the stares of everyone else in the bar. You grab a roll of paper towels and tear off a sheet, dabbing at the injury on your arm. 

“You alright?” Lee Taeyong asks, suddenly materializing next to you. Taeyong is your boss and probably one of the scariest but kindest people you’ll ever meet.

“You couldn’t have sent security sooner?” you grumble, cheek still throbbing. 

“Sorry,” he says genuinely, “I was on the phone, and by the time I noticed, you were already on the ground.” 

The bar that you work at isn’t just an ordinary bar. It’s the hub for the biggest vigilante group in South Korea, NCT. Taeyong isn’t just the owner of this bar, he’s also the leader of said group. When he says that he’s “on the phone,” it usually means he’s discussing important information about NCT’s next operation. Technically, what they’re doing is good―just extremely illegal.

Keep reading

Keep reading

take care

pairing: sub!heeseung/afab reader

summary: heeseung is in need of some comfort. luckily, he has you.

warnings: mentions of depression, oral sex (f. recieving), PRAISE KINK, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia

word count: 1.9K

masterlist here

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𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙

genre: smut (18+)

cw: afab!reader, dom!reader, sub!jake, established relationship, mommy kink, bondage, edging, use of vibrator & gag, slight mention of pet play, protected sex<3

words: 3.1k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you and jake have been dating a little over a few months but have known each other for years even before as childhood best friends. so really, a relationship with someone you knew inside-out shouldn’t pose many difficulties, right? 

Keep reading

♡*:.｡. SOFT THINGS PARK JONG-SEONG DOES BECAUSE HE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU ❥

pairing: park jong-seong x reader

genre: fluff, romance.

word count: 693 words.

warnings: none.

a/n: it's jay time, yk what it means *winks* yeah husband material!!! (again? hell yeah why not? 🤩) hope yall enjoy this one as well! feel free to leave an ask screaming in my inbox, i will love to read them! ♥️ this one a bit longer btw!

↻INVOLUNTARILY OPENS EVERY DOOR FOR YOU, in such casualness and as an ordinary behavior of his— which became obviously a habit; after a couple recurrences during the course of your relationship’s first steps, that nowadays, Jong-seong simply does it. He’s, without exception, agile to surpass the previous pace shared side by side with you— as the familiar warmth leaves your palm empty to welcome an undesired coldness, Jay is already further, striding in long steps to reach the entrance of whatever it could be: a normal, heavy wooden door; a push-pull glass or mayhaps, as silly as it came out to be, those automatic ones, with movement sensor. 

Nevertheless, there’s a particular secret inside the objection towards opening doors for you, that Jong-seong would never utter out loud, finding shyness interlinked across the belief of his. Truth be told, the amount of doors opened until this exact moment are refined to a certain forgotten extent.

However, the one his pride strikes higher, a slight smuggish grin on the corner of his lips whenever the memory surfaces afresh, is the door to your heart, which Jong-seong opened. 

It was through this sweet, subtle action the boy showcased a crystalline glimpse of his own natural personality and mannerisms, attached to a silent politeness which managed easiness along the path of a conquering journey Jay administered towards your direction. 

↻ENCOURAGES, CHEERS AND MOTIVATES, throughout a few drops of positivity distributed within the daily reminders he leaves in shared conversations. A muttered reassurance is mentioned, as Jong-seong prudently listens over a singular insecurity you shared, ebony eyes trailing beyond the adored — perhaps as well from his insight— heavenly features the joy of his life possesses, but also attempting to gather the concealed feelings in between the lines.

As the soothing presence of his hand strokes a gentle, repeated movement onto your back, Jong-seong constantly advises you, recalling a couple achievements and how far your own strength has led you. Furthermore, Jay himself mentions admiration towards this quality of your persona, striving one day to be the same. 

↻BRINGS BREAKFAST IN BED ALONG SLEEPY SMILES, it begins as the lazy day approach settles in the still, exceedingly early morning of a balmy Sunday; whereas the content to remain entranced in the warm of your arms runs tempting enough for a short moment of second considerations, Jong-seong is adamant on his aim.

Besides, the aftermatch includes his most prized acquisition in life: the tender smile of yours, passionate kiss which feels way too sugarcoated on top of his cheeks complemented with the adorableness, still drowsy speech of a grateful mention to his doing. It conceives a long matured idea, as the boy slowly trails your figure, silently eating in joy — disheveled hair accompanied by oversized pajamas, a natural glow contrasting in the sunlight —, Jong-seong had to admit: there was no wish to be somewhere else.

And the moment he catches your extended arm, a spoonful of honey staring directly at him in short come and go motions, Jong-seong finds himself in the urge of another unspoken, brief confession: the honey tastes just like your kisses. Candy and soft heartening enough for a second yearning, which whatever bargain makes the end here, surely it will be worthy in the end. And he can’t help but do it again, and again, and again… 

↻PLANS FURTHER AHEAD, A FUTURE ALONG YOUR SIDE, because if there’s a tomorrow to begin with, it must be where you are — and that being announced, Jong-seong would move across multiple obstacles to remain each, exceptional day there. Either it being simply examining the shine across your alluring eyes; especially when set above him, tenderly watching his sudden rambles and even, annoyed prose. Or hearing the adored sound of your laugh; who’s hands reach quickly to cover it loudness. Jay doesn’t mind though, finding adorableness within it. 

And maybe that's one of the details among the vast lists of the reasons behind the boy's thoughts on a place, another home which isn’t your heart to cultivate new, unforgettable shared memories. Hand in hand, heart and heart, and a prosperous future to honor walk in together. Side by side.

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