#ANYWAYS YEAH FUN ASK GAME I LOVE THESE THINGS I JUST NEVER GET AROUND TO ACTUALLY DOING THEM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pboogerswbb · 11 days ago

Text

TOO LOST IN YOU - pt II

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc (Valerie) (i know first part is x reader... i'm sorry for changing to an oc but it makes more sense in a multipart series)

playlist, part I, part III

DISCLAIMER!: this is fanfiction (note the word FICTION), this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like, this is purely fiction for entertainment purposes

Warnings: toxic!paige, language, some sexual thoughts but no smut in this one (sorry guys), paige is an asshole fr

Wordcount: 4.9k (sorry)

A/N: i got so much love and so many people asking for more after the first part <3 ty all i'm so grateful! this will likely be around 7 parts so please buckle up lol. ALSO I'M SORRY FOR NO SMUT but let me cook guys it'll get good. the point of this part is to get inside paige's head and understand why she is the way she is, things will speed up in the next part i swear. OK GO READ ILYSM MWAH

It’s hard being Paige Bueckers. Not every 23-year-old had to deal with the kind of pressure I did. Most of the time it felt like the whole world was watching me, waiting for me to fail. It used to bother the shit out of me but after all the injuries, everything I’ve been through, I thrived on it. I knew I would prove them wrong - prove that I’m great, that I’m me. Just like my dad would tell me, over and over again. I knew I was great, so greatness was expected. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come with a great deal of pressure. I always said pressure is a privilege. But sometimes when I lay in bed alone after a game, even a win, the pressure consumed me. I didn’t like to be alone. So I went around different girls’ beds, like they meant nothing. Because they didn’t - they were just a distraction from my own mind. Like I said, it’s hard being Paige Bueckers - hard being me.

“You okay babe?”

I’m shaken out of my thoughts, returning back to earth, back to the small bed I was lying in. The brunette next to me nuzzles her nose into my arm, watching me with that look I knew too well. Like she wanted something from me. I hated when girls looked at me like that.

I clear my throat, trying not to flinch as she wraps her arm around me. “Yeah Zoe, ‘m fine,” I murmur, letting her press herself to my side, her body sticky from our prior activities. Zoe was a cuddler, so she was usually last on my roster. It’s hard to plan your escape when a girl clings to you like a koala and worst of all, wants to sleep like that all night. I never got that, cuddling while sleeping. It gets hot, sweaty and cramped, I find it hard to believe anyone actually enjoys it. People just think they do because they’re in love or something. And I can’t afford to be in love. I had a natty to win.

Zoe’s slender finger brushes through my blonde hair and I can feel that claustrophobic, uncomfortable tightness inside me. Like I had to get out. Her dorm was dim and the air was heavy and slightly humid from the second round I had insisted on. The sheets stuck to my skin uncomfortably and her bed made this annoying sound everytime I moved or even breathed.

I turn my gaze to Zoe who’s looking at me, all googly eyed. Oh God. She smiles wide and presses a kiss to my cheek. The scent of her shampoo lingers in the air, the smell of banana and some kind of citrus. I had never liked banana scented things.

“Uh, anyway that was fun,” I mumble, and sit up on the bed, forcing her off me as gently as I could. “But I got practice early,” I add, reaching for my t-shirt and throwing it on.

I don’t notice the offended look on Zoe’s face. I grab my phone from the floor, checking my texts urgently.

Yo you tryna do a lil sum tonight?

I know ur not workin sooo we could have a lil fun like we did the other day

Valerie?

I sigh, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I stare at the read receipt underneath the texts. I tap on the back of my phone case impatiently, wondering if sending a fourth text would make me pathetic. Maybe I should just call her? Nah, I must be trippin.

Since I met her at Ted’s, Valerie was the first I called when being in my bed alone was tearing up my mind. But it didn’t mean anything, she was good in bed, good at making me forget who I was when I needed to. Also, I liked how she smelled, like coconut. And when she tangled her legs with mine I didn’t shutter or pull away. Sometimes I even wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into me. Not because I needed her. But because her body felt good against mine.

“Aw baby really?” Zoe whines in an overtly soft voice, wrapping the blanket around her as she scoots up on the bed. Her plump bottom lip, swollen from the rough kissing earlier turns into a pout. I quickly avoid her gaze, my eyes landing right onto the floor looking for my pants. “I wanted to cuddle.” Figures.

“I know baby, me too,” a lie, she would never know that though. “Can’t keep my hands off you if I stay tho and I need some sleep.” I lie more, never looking at her. She buys it though, like she does every time. It’s not like I liked to lie, but I also didn’t like disappointing people. Especially girls that looked at me like that. It would kill her to know I texted three girls after Valerie didn’t answer, and the only reason I was here was because Zoe was the fastest to reply..

I leave Zoe like that, naked in bed, pleading with her eyes. Sometimes I felt bad, because I could tell she really liked me. But then I remembered how hard it is to be Paige Bueckers, and I didn’t feel so bad. My job was to be great on the court. Everything else was just background noise.

I sit by the court, my chest heaving, throwing my head back to down some water. The squeaking of sneakers echo all around me, blending in with the sound of Geno’s voice screaming at some of the girls working on plays. Coach had been killing us today, not happy with how the last game had went. We had still won, but that was merely a reason to celebrate in his eyes.

All day I’d been missing shots that should’ve been child’s play for me. I couldn’t help but beat myself up. I was distracted, unfocused. I had been killing myself on the court, hoping it would bring me to my senses. Geno had been the one to tap me on the shoulder and force me to take a break I wipe the sweat off my face into the inside of my shirt, and grab my phone.

Bro are u alive?

I’m gettin worried lowkey

i’m fine paige

Five days. For five days Valerie hadn’t texted me back anything but that. I clench my jaw in frustration, shaking my head to myself. It made no sense to me - yeah we had a falling out but that’s what we did. We bickered and then we kissed and made up, and that’s what we had been doing for months so why was she acting like this now? Well… maybe calling her a psycho bitch last week hadn’t been the best move on my part.

I don’t know why the things she did bothered me so much. When she didn’t laugh at my joke, when she didn’t answer my texts. I don’t know why I felt a constant nervousness swirl inside me when she was mad at me, I had no reason to care. I guess the pussy was just that good, it was tricking me into thinking I did.

“Va-le-r- oh that’s the girl from Ted’s!” KK slams her hands on my shoulders, coming up from behind me, peeping at my phone screen. In a panic, I lock my phone, hiding it from her view.

“Bro, you heard of privacy?” I complain, shoving her playfully as she sits next to me on the ground. KK snickers, her nose scrunching a little as she does.

“Not since you started peeing with the door open,” the shorter girl next to me argues and I scoff loudly, my mouth wide open.

“One time! And I was drunk!!” I groan, my voice rising a little and eyes going wide. CD quickly turns around and shushes us, shaking her head. Me and KK quickly shut our mouths, my cheeks turning a little red from the scolding.

KK looks at me with raised brows, and then at the phone, and then at me again. Most of the team knew how I kept myself busy when I wasn’t training, but KK was the one who had joined me those countless times at Ted’s and sat with me at the corner table as I watched her. Valerie. There was something so intriguing about her I just had to keep coming back. I always thought once I’d get her to my bed and have my way with her, I’d be done with her, which is how it usually goes. Before I realised that one time turned into five, which turned into me being in her bed getting her right, not even caring about my own most of the time. Getting her off got me off. Just thinking about the way she looked when she came, the way her back arched, her perfect mouth fell open - I really had to stop thinking about her. Why was it so goddamn hard?

It won’t be hard to find another Valerie if she’s gonna keep this difficult act up.

“Girl trouble?” KK asks, her tone more genuine and I roll my eyes, looking at her sideways.

“Yea right,” I chuckle sarcastically, leaning my elbows to my knees. “Just need to find a new one is all.”

KK lets out a small laugh, sipping her water bottle. “The five you got not enough?” She jokes.

I smirk a little glancing at her. “Four,” I correct, as if that made it better somehow. “Just need someone… new,” I mumble, knowing it was the best bet to get my mind off Valerie. I’m sure eventually I’d find someone who was just as hot. Someone who also smelled like coconut.

“Then what do I say to Zoe.”

“Wh- Zoe?”

KK nods and grins at me. “She texted me asking about your shoe size or sum, wanted to get a gift for you.”

“She- she what?” My voice is full of shock and I can feel the claustrophobic tightness quickly grow inside me. I had never given her KK’s number. She was doing too much. KK just nods, clearly finding the situation amusing.

“Bro…” I groan quietly, as to not piss off CD again, and lean my head forward, resting my forehead against my arms. Zoe clearly hadn’t understood what “just fucking around” meant. Sometimes shit slipped out of my mouth, sure, but I never let her think I liked her. I had to be careful with her.

KK kisses the her teeth and is still nodding. “Yeah… probably time to let her go huh?”

“That bitch is crazy I swear,” I murmur and KK laughs out loud again. I punch her arm, reminding her to keep quiet - an impossible task for KK. Before I can stop myself, the words just slip from my mouth.

“Ted’s tonight?”

KK looks at me pointedly. “Valerie workin’?” she teases but I shake my head sternly.

“No man, fuck Valerie.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “Just need to find a new one, k?”

“You sure you’re not just gon’ ogle at her all ni-”

“KK.” I say sternly

KK nods. “Ok,” she repeats but I can tell from her tone she doesn’t buy it. She shuts up though knowing she could tease me about anything but anything about Valerie got under my skin. Truth was Valerie was working today. I just needed to see her just for a second. Just to know if I was overthinking it, or if she was really icing me out.

The Friday night had brought many other students to Ted’s as well, the bar pretty packed and the chatter loud over the music. KK had convinced Ice to join us so the three of us made our way in. The best thing about crowds was it made it easy to blend in, even for us. We push our way through to the bar, my eyes immediately searching for a glimpse of Valerie’s golden brown hair or her wide eyes. All I needed was to see her, I told myself. Even for a second. Then the twist in my stomach would straighten out.

“What can I get you?” The perky voice of the redhead asks over the buzzing crowd. I think her name was Natalie or something. Ice looks over the flyers on the bar, advertising a range of new drinks.

“Let’s try some of these,” Ice suggests and I grab the flyer from her hand. I didn’t really come here to drink so I couldn’t have cared less what we ordered. Especially now I realised Valerie wasn’t even here.

“Uhh yea can we get three Aperol Negronis,”

“You won’t like it,” a stern, but sweet voice interrupts the conversation. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Valerie steps out from the back, pinning her hair away from her face and for a moment our gazes meet. Her dark, wide eyes make me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. For a moment I want to jump over the bar and touch her, to make sure she was really there and not just a mirage of my desires.

“W-why not?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically shaky. Only with her I got like that. Suddenly my throat felt dry and the nervous twist in my stomach was turning into something you could only call butterflies. Of course I knew it couldn’t be butterflies, because that would mean I cared. I couldn’t afford to care. I didn’t have the time for distractions. I had a national championship to win.

Valerie scoffs looking away from me, ignoring me as I chase her gaze. “Because I know you won’t,” she says. The way she thought she knew me that well irked me. Still, I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t beaming at the fact that I had her attention after a week of trying to chase her down.

I can’t help the pout that forms in defiance. She’s still ignoring me, pouring drinks for a group of boys clearly ogling at her - which only irked me more.

“Well… I want three of them,” I say matter of factly, trying to prove a point.

“Whoa Paige, maybe we should just get a shirl-” Ice chuckles but I shake my head.

“Three Aperol Negronis,” I dictate. Valerie’s stern eyes finally look at me. She looks almost a little scary, not pleased with my tone. “... please.” I add urgently, not wanting to get on her bad side. I guess some would say I already had.

Wordlessly, Valerie rolls her wide eyes and gets to mixing the drinks. I allow my eyes to wander for a moment, noticing how the white shirt of the work uniform hugged her body, the curve of her breasts making my mouth water. Just seeing her was enough to ignite the fire deep in my abdomen. The things I would do to leave with her tonight and take her to my bed, like I had so many times before. I would even settle for just some kissing. Just wanted to let my hands wander down her body, squeeze and feel where I wanted, with no urgency. I needed to feel all of her, wanted to drown in her.

“By card orrr…?” Valerie asks, clearly waiting for the payment. My eyes had gone glassy, and my lower lip had a small dent from the way I’d been biting down on it. I blink stupidly at her, struggling to calm myself down.

“I got it,” KK murmurs and slides her card to Valerie. I grab my drink, and the smell is enough to make my face scrunch up in disgust. I swear it smells like battery acid, and as I take a sip I notice - it also tastes like battery acid. I swallow the orange liquor, it burns on its way down making me cough a little. Valerie was watching me amused. I hated when she was right.

“People actually drink this and like it??” Ice asks, her voice hoarse from coughing as well. KK nods agreeing but I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.

“I actually like it,” I lie with a straight face, my fingers twitching around the glass as I try to get over the bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

“Oh right,” Valerie says, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turns to another group of customers. I can’t help reach over the bar, my hand grabbing her arm. She turns back to face me, icier than I had ever seen. It shocks me enough that I let go of her, taken aback.

“What?” she asks, her voice filled with annoyance.

“You seen my texts?” is all I ask, and it comes out a little too desperate for my liking.

“Yes,” Valerie says matter of factly. I wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.

“Uh… well thought we’d link up or something,” I add, shifting on my feet as I do.

Valerie sighs in frustration and takes a deep breath to compose herself.

“I’m good,” is all she says and flashes me an ice cold smile. I feel a strange pang in my heart. She had iced me out before, but not like this. Usually seeing her face to face was enough for her to forget our petty little arguments, enough to get her on me again. “I have work,” she adds before finally returning to serve the other customers.

I stand there for a moment, astonished. An uncomfortable ache that had been wavering in my chest was growing too intense for me to ignore anymore. Maybe it was all my fault after all. I had told her I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else and in the moment I had meant it. But then I remembered the stakes. Last year to win a national championship, last year to prove my greatness. I wasn’t going to mess it up just because of some girl. A relationship would be nothing more than a distraction, an unnecessary responsibility. I had enough on my plate. Valerie was selfish for wanting me all to herself. She didn’t understand what she was asking for. Maybe calling her a psycho bitch wasn’t so far off.

I feel someone bump into my back and turn around to find a girl, cheeks blushed and apologetic. I see her eyes widen in recognition - it was always that moment when I knew I could have this girl if I wanted.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m a little drunk,” the girl giggles and I offer her an easy smile. I consider taking this girl home, imagining the way I’d lure her into my bed, just a little bit of sweet talk and a smirk would be enough, a hand on her waist, thumb rubbing her skin and soon she’d get this look on her face like she had to have me. It would be so easy, and I wouldn’t have to think about Valerie at all.

But the pain in my chest doesn’t go away, even when I let my mind wander further, how this girl would look underneath me, whimpering while I fuck her. It did nothing to make the pain go away.

“‘S fine,” i murmur and decide to ignore the way she was blinking at me, biting her bottom lip. I grab my drink from the bar, and push past her, finding KK and Ice sitting at our usual table. They both look at me, but don’t ask where I’d been. They both knew better. I sip my drink, cursing to myself in my head about ordering it. With sheer stubbornness I finish it quickly, finding that easier than taking small sips.

“You’re never picking what we drink again,” KK scoffs, copying me, her face scrunching involuntarily when she finishes her drink. But I barely register her words, as I lean back in the chair, head tilting back to watch Valerie.

She’s giggling with Natalie, throwing her head back in amusement. The chatter in the bar is deafening, but I swear I could hear her laugh in my head vividly. Like my brain had memorised each tone of her voice. There was something different about Valerie, she always shined the brightest in every room she was in. Even the dingy bar was lit up by her. She wasn’t even necessarily extremely lively. It was her mere presence that just made everything better.

I noticed it the first time I ever saw her, early september. All she did was walk past me on campus, talking lively into her phone. It was her voice I had heard before even seeing what she looked like. Her voice had been enough to make me have to see her. Of course she hadn’t even looked my way, not even a glance. That was the moment I knew I had to have her.

“You enjoy it?” Valerie asks KK and Ice, fully ignoring me as she walks to our table to clean up. I watch the golden bracelet she always wore dangling on her wrist as she grabs the empty glasses. I lean back and tilt my head to look up at her, needy for her attention. Licking my lips I look her up and down, that usually worked enough to get her naked. But now, she didn’t even glance at me. Annoyance grew within me as she chatted with KK, laughing at her jokes.

It was then when my eyes moved from her lips to her neck that I saw it - a dark bruise underneath her ear, right on the spot where she liked to be kissed. I knew, because I had left many bruises there and gotten scolded for it. But this wasn’t mine. This was someone else’s.

“Okay well see ya around,” Valerie smiles and turns to take the glasses to the back. I feel the pang in my chest quickly flip, turning into anger. I was furious. Who did she think she was? Sleeping around with someone else, not answering my texts, letting someone else mark her like that. I felt my body turn hot, and without a word to KK and Ice I get up from my seat, nearly knocking it over as I take quick strides to reach Valerie, following her into the back, ignoring the STAFF ONLY sign on the door.

My steps are heavy and loud as I reach her, standing by the sink, handling the dirty glasses. I was shaking my head to myself, trying to control my anger. But it was getting the best of me.

“Staff only plea-” Valerie starts and turns to me, unable to miss the redness of my face, the clenched jaw and the way I was biting on the insides of my cheeks. “Paige?” she asks, furrowing her brows, confused.

The pounding in my head grows and I let out a scoff, not feeling in control of myself. My brain was moving faster than I could follow, I felt lightheaded. I felt furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my voice loud. I didn’t really care about being overheard.

“Huh?” Valerie asks, clearly bewildered, but already getting defensive in response to how I was acting.

“What, you don’t text me, call me or nothing? Because you’ve been too busy fucking some other bitch?” I yell, my hand pointing to her neck. Valerie’s eyes widen in realisation but quickly turn angry too.

“I- WHAT?” She yells back and takes a step towards me.

“Don’t play dumb. So who is it?” I say sternly, grinning bitterly at her, my eyes looking down at her.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes shaking her head which only infuriates me more.

“I said. Who. Is. It?” I repeat, grabbing her arm. She pushes my hand off her, anger growing on her face as her brows furrowed further.

“How is it any of your business who I sleep with Paige?” She argues.

She had a point. We weren’t exclusive. Matter of fact it was pretty hypocritical of me to be so angry when I had a roster of girls on my phone, ready to answer my calls at any time of day. My anger had taken over though, and the little sense I had when it came to Valerie, was completely gone.

I throw my head back and chuckle bitterly, provoking her further. “See I knew you’re a lotta things but didn’t know you were a slut too,” I hiss, the words slipping out without much thought. I couldn’t think of anything but how furious I felt.

Valerie laughs loud, but it’s not the sweet laugh I was used to. It was a bitter, angry laugh.

“Me?! You’ve slept with every girl that swings your way on campus and even some that don’t! You’re the slut Paige!” she screams, her wide eyes burning with anger, her finger coming up to point at my face. It pissed me off, the way it was assigning blame, like all of this was my fault. Like it wasn’t she who slept with someone.

“I don’t owe you anything!” she declares, her voice revealing a hint of hurt, the way it cracked slightly. “I’m done with you. I’m serious Paige. Done,” she adds, her voice calmer, but more authoritative. “Now get out of my bar.”

My face was hot and red, my chest was heaving and my head spun. The hurt in her voice made me waver, made my chest ache more. I blink at her stupidly as she turns back to the dishes, already missing having her attention. I was fine with the yelling, the fighting, as long as it meant she was looking at me, or talking to me. But now she’s done with me? Fine, so was I. Wouldn’t take me longer than a day to find a new Valerie.

“Pshh whatever,” I murmur and storm out of the back, heading fast towards the exit. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight and I could taste the bitter Aperol on my tongue still. It made me nauseous,

I’m gasping for air once I feel the chilly breeze of february hitting my skin. The silence outside was overwhelming, forcing me to realise the rapid pace of my own thoughts. My mind was swirling with flashing images of Valerie, on top of someone, looking down at her like she did at me, the idea of her moaning someone else’s name made me sick.

“Fuck!” I shout, unable to control myself. A group of girls near me turn to look at me but return to their conversation when I sit myself down on the curb. What a standard I was setting for student athletes everywhere right now.

My eyes burn and before I notice, a tear rolls down my cheek. I bury my face into my hands and rub my jaw, my anger easing with each exhale. I didn’t know why I was crying, I didn’t understand any of this. I couldn’t believe the things I had said, the way I had acted. I was supposed to be disciplined, in control, but I felt so out of control when it came to Valerie.

“Paigey…” KK murmurs and suddenly I realise her and Ice are standing in front of me, looking down at me sympathetically. Embarrassed, I wipe the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

“Uhh sorry just gimme a sec guys,” I sigh looking at the ground. They sit on either side of me, wrapping their arms around me. I lean into Ice’s shoulder and I’m grateful how they don’t pry, or talk. We just sit there in silence for a while.

I take a deep sigh and lift my head back up, chewing on my bottom lip. I glance at both of the girls sitting next to me, grateful for the friends I had. At least I got one thing right.

“I dunno what just happened,” I sigh, shaking my head thinking back to my behaviour. The shame I felt made my cheeks turn a shade of red.

KK chuckles softly and ruffles my hair affectionately. “I do,” she mumbles.

I furrow my brows and turn to look at her. She looks back at me like whatever was about to come out of her mouth was obvious. KK and Ice glance at each other before KK opens her mouth to speak.

“Bro you have feelings for her.”

Oh?

Oh.

My mouth parts in realisation as I move my gaze from KK to the pavement. It’s just us now, sitting in silence, the sounds of passing cars and the muted sounds of the bar the only noise in the chilly evening.

“C’mon P boogers, let’s go home,” Ice says, standing up and reaching a hand down to lift me up.

KK hops up and nods. “You need some Tru Fru,” she adds.

With a nod, I let them pull me up, following them to the car. I had feelings for Valerie. Shit. I'd just have to find a way to get over it - I couldn’t afford all this. Not right now. Not with the world watching, waiting for me to fail. Not with a national championship on the line.

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @mandyvivic @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @taylynbueckers44 @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @tndaqlifwy @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her

NEXT ONE WILL BE HOTTER I PROMISE

#too lost in you #lilas writing #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc #paige bueckers smut

378 notes · View notes

starsstuddedsky · 1 year ago

Text

Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.”

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try.

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead.

“That looks like shit.”

“Trust the process,” he says.

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?”

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?”

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit.

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved.

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?”

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.”

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?”

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.”

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically.

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.”

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him?

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?”

You don’t trust your voice so you nod.

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.”

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere.

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag.

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away.

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him.

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.”

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes.

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.”

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly.

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says.

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says.

“Did you need a handshake?”

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).

“Advice?”

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?”

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.”

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?”

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position.

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at.

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council.

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?”

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.”

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse.

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.

But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.

“Are you following me?”

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.”

“As opposed to by myself at the table?”

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.”

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.”

“You could–”

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you.

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him.

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?”

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.”

“Not yet.”

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.”

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!”

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.”

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense.

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.”

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you.

What just happened?

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?”

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?”

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.”

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.

“He wants to be president.”

“Of student council?”

“Apparently.”

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you.

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!”

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin.

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.

You should have trusted your gut.

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester.

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.”

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.”

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.”

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper.

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.”

“Are you even passing this class?”

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades.

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again.

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale.

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something.

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.”

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says.

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.”

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.”

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.”

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask.

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?”

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.”

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would.

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.”

“Really?” You frown. “Why?”

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.”

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.”

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back.

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.”

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone.

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?”

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you.

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.”

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.”

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.”

“That’s so much work.”

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.

“You okay?” Chenle shouts.

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.

“So,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?”

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.”

“And if I ask you?”

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.”

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.

“I heard he’s running for president.”

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.

“Why are you helping him?”

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?”

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says.

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.”

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say.

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.”

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.”

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.”

“You don’t have the power to do that.”

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?”

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room.

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.

[Na Jaemin] you busy?

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not.

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.”

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?”

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.”

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?”

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.”

“Don’t you have a lab partner?”

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.”

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.

“So are you free?”

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now.

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?”

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?”

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up.

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?”

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!”

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene.

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!”

“Well, you’re not physically possible!”

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.”

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.”

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.”

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.”

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.

[Na Jaemin] in the library [Na Jaemin] lost in the library [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs

[yn] need me to come find you?

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please)

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting.

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.”

“Why?”

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?”

“Is there any other?”

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.”

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation.

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.”

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.”

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly.

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.

[yn] on the way now 👍

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.”

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.”

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone.

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.”

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.”

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.”

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.”

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.”

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.”

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.”

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly.

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.”

“How come?”

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.”

“Fresh-tern?”

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not.

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says.

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?”

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.”

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information.

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.”

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes.

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.”

“None of you are poli-sci?”

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.”

“You really hate them?”

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory.

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.”

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?”

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.”

“No!”

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.”

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.

You eye him. “Do you even need these?”

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.

“What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts.

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts.

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout.

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts.

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’”

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol.

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?”

“Professor Ahn,” she says.

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.”

She smiles even wider. “Really?”

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute.

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms.

“Jaemin.” You grin at him.

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips.

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.”

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee.

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.”

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?”

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting.

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways.

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word.

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass.

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.”

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round.

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.

Yeah, you’re definitely staring.

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music.

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.”

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?”

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty.

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away.

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back.

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.”

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?”

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked.

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out.

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.

“You feeling okay?”

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.”

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?”

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.”

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?”

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.”

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?”

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it.

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?”

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.”

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?”

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry.

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.”

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?”

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up.

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says.

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?”

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?”

You shrug. “It’s fun.”

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries.

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!”

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all.

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.”

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes?

“What?”

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.”

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it.

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?”

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he.

“Take me home?”

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.”

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.

“Goodnight, YN,” he says.

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?”

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.”

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain.

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?”

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.”

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.”

“The one in red?”

You nod.

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.”

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?”

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?”

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been.

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin.

“Hey,” Renjun says.

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching.

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.”

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?”

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.”

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.”

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.”

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time.

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.”

“Do you want toast?” You offer.

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?”

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face.

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small.

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen.

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first

2) he pretended not to know you were running

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone

4) he never belonged in your world

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.”

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.”

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?”

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.”

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.”

“Okay, I’m not understanding.”

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.”

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.”

“That would be too easy,” you mutter.

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you say.

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.”

You snort.

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.”

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?”

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.”

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–”

“Did you know that I was running for president?”

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.”

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all.

And today, Chenle got a puppy.

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly.

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!”

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.”

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!”

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!”

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?”

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.”

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand.

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter.

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.”

“What are you talking about?” You eye him.

“How was the sex?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.”

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“And yet you’re not denying it.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.

“Just tell me.”

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.”

“Of school?”

He rolls his eyes. “The election.”

You stare at him. “Seriously?”

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?”

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?”

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.”

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’”

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol.

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?”

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.”

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!”

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung.

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says.

“You better be fun, then,” you say.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go.

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.

“Hi,” you say.

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?”

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?”

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?”

You shake your head.

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest.

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you.

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.”

He nods slowly.

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.”

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?”

“Do you?”

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you.

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me.

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.”

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.”

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?”

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.”

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?”

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.”

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.”

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?”

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.”

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.”

“They really don’t like me,” he says.

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask.

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s).

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.”

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.

“What’re you doing?”

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.”

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.

“Good answer,” you say.

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.”

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?”

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.

“A persimmon?”

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.”

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says.

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.”

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.”

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.”

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.”

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?”

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.”

thank you for reading!

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin #na jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst

2K notes · View notes

peachhcs · 1 month ago

Text

a trip to van

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy spends a weekend in van with her two favorite people

4.5k words

hiii here's this that i've been working on for a few days. i thought this idea was super cutie and wanted to write more quinn and samy dynamic. also lowkey predicting that sjs vs. van game in a week so lol this won't be accurate but anyways let me know if u guys like these longer fics or not bc i think they're fun to write sometimes!! (also i imagine samy taking these pics of quinn and will)

au masterlist

"i actually can't believe you convinced me to let you stay for a whole weekend," the oldest hughes brother teased samy as they climbed into the car once her stuff was in the back.

"oh shut up. you've been begging to spend more time with me. plus, i haven't been to van in years," the younger sibling countered as they shared a laugh.

"yeah, you're right. you're right. it's good to see you, squirt," quinn squeezed her arm across the armrest as they pulled out of the pickup line.

it was thursday night and samy was in vancouver for the weekend to watch her brother and will play one another on saturday. she was ecstatic to say the least to be spending some time with quinn and getting to see will. it wasn't often that the oldest and youngest sibling spent 1 on 1 time together—in the summer if they were lucky, but even then, quinn had things keeping him busy and so did samy.

"mom told me you need to take me to a hundred different places while i'm here. she sent me a whole list," the brunette chuckled.

"oh really? like where?"

"apparently this bakery that sells really good bagels. there's an italian restaurant in downtown mom really liked that she wants me to try. i dunno, i'll send you the list," samy clicked around to add quinn to the note.

"alright, i'll have to check it out. is she expecting me to pay for all your meals this weekend?" the older boy hummed, amusement on his features.

"i mean i won't complain if you do. i am a broke college student," the younger brunette grinned.

"good thing i make millions," samy hit her brother's arm for that comment making quinn laugh out loud.

"you better stay humble for someone making 8.6 million a year," the girl mumbled, still unbelievable that her brothers were that rich for doing something they genuinely loved doing. she knew she'd never make anywhere close to that even if she did put in the same amount of work.

either way, she secretly enjoyed bugging and asking her brothers for things knowing how much money they had and that they could definitely swing helping her out with groceries here and there.

"plus, you got your boyfriend making a good couple hundred thousand. you're in good hands," quinn added and samy just flushed, rolling her eyes slightly.

"don't worry, i know. i've been told many times that i should just drop out of college and move to san jose because will can support us," he poked at her every time about it and sometimes samy also still couldn't believe her childhood best friend now boyfriend was rich enough to support her and she didn't have to do a thing. "don't worry, i got you, squirt. welcome to luxury for the weekend," quinn grinned as he leaned back in his seat and really embraced his millionaire status inside his expensive car and fancy sunglasses atop his nose.

—

later that night, samy sat in quinn's apartment on facetime with their parents plus jack and luke so they could see she made it in safely.

"i'm so happy you had a safe flight! how is it so far?" ellen wondered with a bright smile while quinn slipped into frame.

"it's been really good. quinn's been a really great host," she pinched her brother's cheeks making him push her hands away.

"damn, i'm so jealous i'm not in vancouver right now. it could've been a reunion!" jack exclaimed.

"hey you get to see will in like a week when he plays you guys in jersey," samy smiled a bit, sad that she couldn't fly out for that reunion.

"yeah, i guess. how's quinn's? has he made you his weird protein shake yet?" the middle hughes wondered while luke snickered.

"dude, it's not that bad, i swear. it gets me up in the morning," quinn rolled his eyes.

"oh it's bad, don't try gaslighting yourself. if he does make it, don't drink it. it had me on the toilet for an hour," jack mumbled while samy laughed and ellen and jim just shook their heads.

"well, i'm glad you've been having a good time so far. it's rare that i see my kids getting along on their own," ellen chimed in.

"hey! we get along! what are you taking about?" luke defended himself.

"mhm, yeah, sure you do," jim chuckled.

"we do! i swear. at least jack and i kind of get along better," the second to youngest sibling patted jack's arm and the two boys gave their most convincing smile.

"key word: kind of," samy chirped.

"oh shut up," luke rolled his eyes at his sister.

"there it is," quinn mumbled, concealing his laughter so their parents or luke wouldn't see.

"well, anyway, it's good to see my kids sort of together. you two have fun in van this weekend! i want lots of pictures and tell will we said hi!" ellen cheered, breaking up the bickering before it got worse. her kids smiled, all nodding.

"will do. love you guys," samy waved before disconnecting from the call.

quinn jumped up from the couch to continue making dinner. the siblings sat in comfortable silence for a moment until the older boy decided to keep talking, "so how have you and will been doing? okay?"

"yeah, we're good. we talk like every night. it's good," the brunette nodded.

"good, i'm glad. i'm happy you guys worked things out," quinn nodded in approval.

"yeah, me too. we're still..readjusting, but it's been easy i think now that will's had time to settle into california and the team."

"that's good. i mean it'll take time, but i'm glad to hear it's been easy," samy appreciated her brother's words knowing some may think she took him back way too soon and way too easily.

"thanks. what about you? have you found anyone or been seeing anyone?" she loved poking into her brothers' lives. it wasn't easy with quinn considering how closed off he was and how easy it was for him to hide things because he lived in a different country.

"funny, but no. i haven't really been seeing anyone," the older boy hummed.

"lameee, we need to get you someone. i mean don't you have like girls lined at your feet?" samy giggled, thinking about all the edits she saw about her brothers on tiktok.

"very funny. i'm just trying to work on myself. is that a crime?"

"of course not, but i feel like mom's looking for another daughter," the younger brunette teased a bit.

"she'll find one in jack's girlfriend. i have a feeling he's getting married first out of all of us," it wasn't too out of character for jack since he was the middle child and all.

"you think so?"

"i mean i don't know, but yeah. he likes jumping into those things," quinn chuckled.

"yeah, i could see it. i think it will be jack, you, me, then luke. or luke and i are switched and i'm last."

"you last? that's surprising."

"well will and i aren't getting married anytime soon. we wanna live a bit and establish ourselves before anything serious," samy nodded. she wasn't too big on getting engaged so soon anyways. it was probably the only thing she wanted to take her time with other than having kids. that was a way later thing.

"alright, fair. i guess i could say the same. i'm not looking for anything," quinn shrugged. he wasn't huge on any of those life milestones knowing he'd find his person when he was ready.

"do you think you're gonna stay in van forever?" samy changed the subject, leaning her arm across the back of the couch and resting her head down.

"i mean probably. i've got a good few years left in me. plus, i like it here. it reminds me of being a kid and growing up in toronto," the older brunette smiled.

"i kind of miss living in toronto. i basically grew up there, you know?" a good 12 years of samy's life was spent in toronto and they were probably some of the best years.

"yeah, i know. they were good years for sure. you could always go back, you know. move back up there," it was definitely something quinn thought a lot about whenever he did decide to retire from the ice. even though he loved michigan, those times in toronto would always call back to him.

it called back to all of the hughes siblings.

"yeah, maybe when i'm like forty and will's retired," the girl grinned and quinn nodded in agreement.

the rest of the night, the two watched some hockey highlights and then a movie before calling it a night. samy excitedly awaited will's arrival tomorrow afternoon where he was able to pull a few strings and fly out early to spend a bit more time with her and quinn.

—

the two siblings rode back to the airport to gather will while samy continuously checked his flight to see if he had landed yet.

"the plane's not getting any closer every minute you look at it," the older boy laughed, watching the way his sister constantly looked at the website.

"i know, i'm just excited," the genuine happiness was a good look on samy that quinn enjoyed seeing. he hated seeing her so sad this past summer, so he was glad her spirits were back up and she was her usual, bubbly self.

"does this mean i'm gonna be third wheel for the rest of the weekend?"

"no, i promise. we'll just be all gross and kiss when you aren't looking," the girl laughed to herself while quinn rolled his eyes.

"great, great. thanks for having some decency," the boy mumbled but he was secretly smiling.

they pulled back into the airport pickup line where quinn started getting serious deja vu from yesterday. the two of them sat in comfortable silence on their phones and listening to the soft hum of the radio in the background. a few minutes passed when samy began hitting her brother's arm repeatedly, her face glowing.

"his plane landed! he should be coming out," she squealed, jumping out of the car. quinn followed after, the two of them leaning against the side waiting for the blonde.

the younger brunette was bouncing on her heels, scanning every face that came through the doors knowing will was bound to walk through them any second.

finally, will came through, his big hockey bag slung over his shoulder, backpack strapped to his back and sharks hat to cover his messy hair. samy jumped up, running to greet her boyfriend in the middle where quinn couldn't help the smile on his lips.

will dropped his bag so he could lift samy into his arms, the couple spinning around in their bone crushing hug. "missed you," the brunette hummed, pulling back a bit once her feet were back on the ground.

"i missed you, too. its so good to see you," will's hold on her waist drew her in closer, admiring all of her features up close after only seeing them through a screen for months.

"i'm so excited you're here. this is gonna be so fun," samy grinned and pulled her boyfriend down for a kiss, not caring that they were in public or who was watching.

they melted into one another, lips and bodies molding together. quinn, who was watching the entire exchange, pretended to act disgusted which pulled the two apart.

"sorry to break up this reunion, but maybe save that for back at the apartment?" he raised his eyebrow. samy rolled his eyes while will flushed, letting the girl go.

"good to see ya, smitty. it's been awhile," quinn opened his arms for a quick hug.

"it's good to see you, too, quinn. thanks for letting me stay for the weekend," the blonde smiled.

"my apartment is your apartment. although the ice will be a different story tomorrow," the older boy teased a bit, laughing when he saw will pale a bit.

"just kidding. it's gonna be a good game tomorrow. i'm excited to play you and see what you got," quinn smacked will's shoulder and a bit of a nervous chuckle left the blonde's lips.

"alright, don't scare him. let's get back," samy broke them up, tugging them back to the car so they could stop taking up a spot.

—

once quinn and samy helped will get settled in, the oldest hughes brother let the couple have some time to themselves. they sat out on the balcony curdled up together enjoying the nice weather and city below. it was nice de-stressor for will before the game, too.

"so how do you like it so far? be honest," samy wondered, referring to will's time in the nhl so far.

"i really like it. it's like a dream come true," will said honestly which made the girl smile.

"i'm really glad. you look like you've been thriving."

"i do miss boston and the guys and my family and michigan and you though. it's not the same not having all of you an arm's length away," the blonde frowned briefly, thinking of the boys and his parents on the other side of the country from him.

"i get it. we miss you, too, but i'm glad you've been loving it so far. you've got a pretty big name to yourself now," samy giggled while will rolled his eyes a bit.

"just so you know, i'm only thinking of you when i do those press interviews," his words made the youngest hughes blush, burying her face into his shoulder.

"i actually can't believe all of you are in the nhl now. it still feels like yesterday listening to you guys talk about that dream in our living room, or pretending you were playing a real game back on our rink in toronto," all of those memories were still so fresh in their minds, it was hard to believe it was nearly 10 years ago.

"wow, i remember those days. i was always so excited to fly to canada to visit you guys because i knew i'd get to play hockey," will chuckled.

"back when you were more interested in seeing my brothers than me," samy teased.

"only because we were like nine and thought we were gross and had cooties," the blonde countered and the two shared a laugh.

"i was telling quinn yesterday that i miss being out there. i spent my whole childhood there."

"yeah, toronto holds a lot of good memories for us. i miss it too. maybe we can go back one day?" will raised his eyebrows while a little grin appeared on his girlfriend's lips.

"i had the same thought. i said maybe when you're retired and we're like forty or something," they both laughed again.

"forty? i don't know if i'll be playing for that long. i'll probably be done at around 30 or so."

"so thirty. we'll set our plan now," samy determined and will squeezed his arm tighter around her torso, kissing the top of her head.

"sounds like a great plan."

—

the next morning the apartment was buzzing with excitement mixed with nerves and adrenaline. quinn had to be at the rink in the late afternoon and will needed to meet up with his team, so the three spent the morning getting themselves ready. samy was a bit torn trying to figure out what to wear, wanting to support both will and quinn.

"what do you think?" she stepped out of the bathroom to show off her outfit—a jean mini skirt paired with one of will's sharks shirts that had his name on the back and one of quinn's many canucks hats.

will fell silent as he took in her appearance when she did a full spin. the gears in his head started turning and a feeling he hadn't felt in a while bubbled in his chest.

the whole idea of playing in the nhl was something will dreamed of forever. dating his best friend was another unimaginable dream and now the two were colliding and knowing samy would be in the arena wearing his number and his name so everyone would know she was his...the blonde's brain nearly stopped working.

"will?" samy snapped will from his daze.

"huh? sorry. you look..wow.." he mumbled, losing his train of thought as he snaked his hands around her waist, drinking in her outfit even more.

"what's that mean?" the girl chuckled, noticing her boyfriend's lustful expression.

"i just..i'm so lucky. you look good wearing my name," will dipped his head down to place a kiss to samy's lips.

he pulled her flush against his chest, hands wandering with a mind of their own. samy fiddled with will's loosely buttoned undershirt and other hand dancing into his curls. the hockey player's hands drifted further down her hips until he grabbed ahold of her ass and squeezed. she giggled at the action.

they pulled back for a second, panting into one another's mouths. will wanted more. he craved more and so did samy, so they reattached their lips. a soft moan escaped will when samy pulled particularly hard on his hair. her lips felt so good against his own.

"god, you're so gorgeous," will pulled back, lips tinted from samy's pink lip gloss.

"right back at ya, hot stuff," the brunette winked and will couldn't stop himself. he dove back in for more, the desire burning from his head to the tips of his toes.

he backed her against the wall of the bedroom where his lips started dipping further down onto her neck. samy moaned when will found her sweet spot almost immediately, tugging harder at the base of his curls.

"will...people are gonna see," she said but she didn't make any move to pull him away.

"good, let them see," he said, the possession clear in his voice and fuck, if samy didn't find that super attractive.

"we should stop. you have to go soon," she tried knowing he was due to see his team in thirty minutes.

"how soon?" the blonde mumbled, still attacking samy's neck.

"like thirty minutes."

"i can do it in ten," his words sent a rush of heat down the girl's spine, but she knew they couldn't. not now anyways.

"will, not now. later, i promise," she finally found the courage to pull him away from her. he looked back up, breath heavy and lips swollen in pink. he was such a sight to see that had samy wishing they didn't have to go.

"i'm keeping you to that promise then," will smirked.

a quick knock on the door caught their attention, the two of them tensing slightly. "yeah?"

"leaving in fifteen!" quinn called.

"be out soon!" samy yelled back, returning her gaze to her boyfriend's burning stare, placing one last kiss to his lips.

"you're gonna do amazing out there. don't be nervous. you know how quinn plays."

"i know, i know. just scared he'll rip me to shreds," the blonde mumbled with a low chuckle, samy going to help him get himself together as she buttoned up his shirt.

"even if he does, know he's trying to push you and help you get better," samy knew quinn wasn't going easy on will tonight, but she also knew he was gonna use all the tactics he knew that would push the blonde out of his comfort zone a little to get him to play harder.

it was how luke played on will too whenever they went head to head back in michigan.

the two finished getting ready, slipping out of the bedroom as quinn was making sure he had everything and everything was turned off before they left.

"nice touch," the older boy noticed his sister's hat, smiling a bit as he flicked it up.

"don't worry, i didn't forget about you," she cheesed as the three of them headed down to the garage.

quinn dropped will off around the back of the rink where the sharks were gathering in the locker room. the siblings wished the blonde luck before they drove back around to the front and the cameras and media were waiting for them.

"good luck, quinn. i'll see you later," samy smiled as she climbed out of the car.

"thanks, squirt. text me if you need anything before we get on," the two departed as samy headed to the doors and quinn headed towards the cameras to capture the player's game day outfits and walk up.

—

rogers arena was electric leading up to the game. samy had her spot just behind the canucks bench behind the glass where quinn wanted her incase she needed his attention or something—always looking out for his baby sister even during the game. the two waved to one another before samy searched for will doing his warmups. the black and dark teal was a nice addition to the away game jeresey's and she spotted her boyfriend a little bit further down.

the fans were excited for this matchup, canucks fans loud and eager to get the game underway against the two newest rookies on the sharks. macklin skated by, quickly waving to the brunette. she grinned, waving back and giving two thumbs up indicating good luck.

the game revved up quickly as quinn took to the ice against will in the first period. samy saw how much the sharks were improving with each game, but she knew the canucks still had the upper hand with their older players and more experience. she was on the edge of her seat watching her boyfriend and bother race towards the puck sliding across the ice.

quinn was up in will's business, pushing and shoving the younger boy for the puck, so will pushed back harder. the two were basically dancing with one another, the older hughes brother making will work for it.

some of the other canucks players bumped against the blonde and then in the next second, he was on the ground from a hit. the whistle blew, but will bounced back up, a little flustered but okay. it was a clean hit, so no penalties. samy sighed and then made eye contact with her brother as he skated towards the bench. cool off a bit her look said while quinn just shrugged, but he understood.

at the end of the first, canucks were up 2-0. samy texted her parents updates even though they were also probably watching. she sent quick messages to gabe and ryan as well as hannah.

gabe

ur brother's got killer aim

samy

tell me about it

he's making will work for it

ryan

figures

during every intermission, the cameras always panned to the players' family members if they were in the stands. when the jumbotron showed samy she quickly waved and pointed to her canucks hat. the fans cheered, always excited to see quinn's siblings or parents in attendance.

the second and third periods played out almost the same as the first. the guys were fast on the ice for the puck and scoring goals. canucks led now by 5-3 and samy knew this would be another loss on the sharks side. she knew it'd discourage the boys, but there was definitely improvement from last game. will got his stick on the puck a few times, passing to his line, but still not enough to over power the older guys on the canucks team.

when the game ended the fans cheered loudly for quinn's team. samy cheered for her brother too while also giving will and macklin a smile for trying their best. she knew press would take some time, so the girl mingled with fans as they left the rink and back into the lobby.

she enjoyed getting to talk to girls who looked up to her and parents who congratulated her on having a good soccer season so far, asking questions about conference games and the national title coming up soon.

will came out before quinn now showered and back in his suit. samy made her way over to him, giving him a loving hug and kiss on the cheek, "sorry you lost, but you played well."

"thanks, it's okay. i knew we would against quinn. he definitely pushed me though," the blonde chuckled.

"see, i told you. not too bad," samy grinned, squeezing his arm as the couple waited for quinn.

he came out a few minutes later, waving to the two. "press wants some pics of all of us around back. is that okay?" the older boy wondered while samy and will nodded.

they followed the older boy around the back where the media snapped a few pictures of the siblings and will together to share online later. once those were done, the three climbed back into the car to head back to the apartment, feeling exhausted from the long night.

quinn's ringtone started playing through the car as ellen's name lit up the screen. the older brunette answered, "hi mom."

"hey quinny, great game! you guys back at the apartment in once piece?" the older woman said.

"we're on our way back right now. samy and will are here."

"hi mom," the younger girl called.

"hi ellen," will said too.

"hi guys. sorry you guys lost, willie. you played really well, though. it can be tough with these big, old nhl players," ellen chuckled.

"mom, are you calling me old?" quinn cut in as samy giggled too.

"yeah, i am. just wanted to check in with you guys and make sure everyone had fun. any plans for tonight?"

the three exchanged a glance, the silence taken as probably nothing since the late game tired all of them out. "probably a movie or something. kind of beat," quinn answered.

"i bet. well, have fun guys! i'll talk to you soon. love you."

"love you too, mom," samy and quinn said in unison, giggles escaping both of their lips.

once they got back into the apartment, samy collapsed onto the couch, glad to be back in a warm temperatures and not on a frozen metal bench. will copied her movements, falling down beside her while quinn chuckled at their behavior.

"you guys can pick out whatever movie. want anything to eat?" the older boy wondered as he started shedding himself of his tie.

"whatever you wanna make, we'll eat," samy said.

"got it," quinn disappeared into his room.

"so one day this really could be our life," will hummed, breaking the small silence that had filled between the couple.

"it really could," the brunette agreed as her eyes flicked around her brother's apartment.

"only...2 more years?" the blonde raised his eyebrow.

"possibly depending on what career path i choose," samy reached up to mess with some of the misplaced curls hanging off will's forehead.

"sounds like a dream," the boy smiled warmly, moving so their heads were touching.

"yeah, for real."

will went in to press a sweet kiss to samy's lips, all the love in his chest feeling full and abundant. they pulled apart knowing quinn would come back out any second.

"also i think ryan and gabe wanted to facetime to say hey and talk about the game," samy giggled while the blonde playfully rolled his eyes.

"of course they did. don't forget about that promise you made to me earlier," the boy grinned as samy stood up to change into something more comfortable.

"oh, don't worry. i didn't forget," she winked, heading into the guest room leaving will to quickly follow after her.

174 notes · View notes

sunny44 · 7 months ago

Text

Joker

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Max and the others celebrate the end of the racing season at a club. And obviously he and Y/n will discuss.

The pulsating music filled the club, creating an upbeat atmosphere as Max, Charles, Carlos, Lando, Daniel, Pierre and Y/n celebrated the end of the racing season. The dance floor was crowded with people having fun, and the group found a quieter corner to chat and enjoy the night.

Max, always the joker of the group, couldn't resist making a tasteless joke that ended up irritating me for how inappropriate it was. I shot him a furious look and began expressing how idiotic that joke was.

"Max, you have no limits, seriously!" I complained, crossing my arms indignantly. "You have no idea how inappropriate that joke is."

Max just smiled, seemingly unconcerned with my reaction. He was used to the love-hate game they played.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know I can't resist a good joke.” he said, trying to calm the situation.

"But there's a limit, you have to stop with these senseless things in public, someday someone's going to hear and not like it at all. We might understand your sense of humor but eventually..."

But before she could continue complaining, Max interrupted her with a sudden kiss. He pulled me closer, silencing any protest she might have had.

Surprised by the unexpected gesture, she was momentarily speechless. But soon she surrendered to the kiss, setting aside her initial irritation.

Meanwhile, the other members of the group watched the scene with amused smiles. Charles laughed and shook his head, accustomed to the peculiar interactions between Max and me.

"These two will never change, will they?" Carlos commented, raising his drink to toast the couple.

Lando nodded, agreeing with his friend. "That's what makes life interesting. Never a dull moment with them around."

“They say they hate each other but they can’t be apart for too long.”

“That's built-up horniness, they need to get laid.” Pierre said.

“And what made you think they haven’t yet?”

“I’m sure they already have.” Carlos says.

“I’ll ask.” Lando says waiting for them to come back.

Daniel and Pierre just smiled, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of the night. They were happy to be there together, celebrating the end of an intense racing season.

As the kiss between Max and me continued, we gradually pulled away, smiling at each other as if we had shared a funny secret.

"You're impossible, Max.” I said, shaking my head with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"But you love me anyway.” he replied, winking at me with a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. After all, it was hard to resist Max's irresistible charm, even when he was being annoying.

“I have something to ask.” Lando says as they get close to them.

“What?” Max asked hugging her from behind.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

“What kinda questions is that?”

“Yes.” They answer at the same time.

“You are so indiscreet.” She says.

“Oh cmon, no one is a virgin anymore.”

“But yeah, we fucked. Why you want to know?”

“Just curious.”

“Really? Or you want to participate next time?” Max asked.

“I mean, look at your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well than you won’t mind me asking her out right?” Lando says coming to get her hand and Max pushed her back.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend.” We stated laughing.

And so, the night at the club continued, full of laughter, jokes, and memories that we would cherish forever in our hearts. After all, that's what made life exciting: the moments shared with those we love.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“We for sure know how to party”

276 notes · View notes

maxlarens · 4 months ago

Note

(last one for now) 🩷: Logan + (american 😤) football game 🥹

honestly this is how i think that me going to a american football game would go (at least re: not knowing whats going on). anyway loved this idea actually thank u 💝 can u tell i dont understand how american football works

cw: ummm slightly suggestive?

“Logan,” you sigh, “I’m sorry, I know this is fun for you, but what the fuck is going on down there?”

Logan laughs, tips his head back so you can see the line of his throat. Foamy beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup as he points an arm out, gesturing at players down on the field. You’ve got no real way to know who he means when he says words like Quarterback and Wide Receiver and Outside Linebacker. It’s a whole different language, never mind the way his accent has thickened since he’s been home. Vowels turning honey-sweet and long.

“You understand?”, he asks off the back of a long spiel that you definitely didn’t get.

You wince a little, shake your head, “All I got is that they’re chucking a ball around, Loges. Same as every other sport.”

Logan raises a blonde eyebrow at you, smile tugging charmingly at his mouth, “Every other sport?”

“Yuh huh. Tennis, soccer, footy— uh, padel. Even you guys, I guess.”

A snort, indelicate, childish as he waits for you to elaborate. Clearly intrigued to see how you’ll relate the two, “Go on.”

You shrug sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed about your dumb joke, but persevering anyway, “Yeah, y’know. Twenty of you slinging your balls around the track every weekend.”

Logan, who’d made the mistake of taking a sip of his beer, bursts suddenly into laughter. Has to redirect the beer-spray that shoots out of his mouth onto the concrete steps below you. Not quick enough apparently, as some hits your bare knee. You can’t help joining in on his snickering as you wipe your knee dry with a napkin.

“Gross,” you complain.

“I’m gross?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yeah. You spat on me.”

Logan’s cornflower blue eyes sparkle under the stadium light. You eye the smattering of blonde stubble as his jaw ticks. Mouth twisting in amusement.

He shrugs his broad, muscular shoulders, expression glinting with something familiar, “I’ve done worse.”

Something tingles down your spine as you bite the inside of your cheek. You raise both eyebrows at him in surprise, maybe just daring him to go on.

“Oh, have you?”, you bite, knowing for certain fact he has, just wanting to hear him say it.

He nods, a polite, perfunctory thing, says, “Yes ma’am,” pretends like he doesn’t know what that does to you.

You purse your lips like you’ve sucked on a sour lemon. Raise an eyebrow at him incredulously for what feels like the hundredth time today. Really, it asks.

His eyes are still bright and mischievous. Happy. The crowd erupts into cheers as some Quarterback or Linebacker or fucking whatever, scores a goal or a touchdown or something of that nature. Neither of you are looking— only at each other.

You grab for the plastic cup in Logan’s hand, in an attempt to stifle the electricity buzzing between you— it’s not the place, nor the time, “Gimme that.”

His lip curls up, satisfied, acquiescing the drink easily to you, “Sure thing, babe.”

A little breathless, a little warm, you gulp down lukewarm beer in an attempt to stifle the heat inside you.

“You’re fucken’ evil, Sargeant.”

He hums, “Yeah. You love it.”

what is it with logan and me making the drabble slightly h*rny. is it just because i’m writing it for u viv????? is it logan?????

#logan sargeant x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #💫drabbles #drabbles:ls2 #lilli’s birthday celebration

209 notes · View notes

loulovingho · 3 months ago

Text

The Aftermath

Part 2 of my Meeting the Parents series. Each part can be read individually, but it's better together. Here's part one, you can read part two here or on ao3.

Summary:

After Tommy's dinner with the Buckley's goes surprisingly well, Buck's issues with jealously causes his and Tommy's first big fight.

“So,” Buck began nosily as Tommy drove them toward the loft, “what were you guys talking about?”

“Oh, you know, they were telling me all about baby Evan. How much you loved running around the house naked, stuff like that.”

“Okay, that was only for like six months and I wasn't even two and-”

Tommy laughed, reaching over and taking Buck's hand. “I'm kidding, Evan. I didn't even know that was a thing you did. However, now that I do, I will be using it against you in the future.”

“Ugh,” Buck whined. “Come on, Tommy. What'd you guys talk about?”

“Not a whole lot, really. Your mom asked if I actually went by Thomas, and when I said no she started calling me Tommy. Then, she told me I could call her Margaret.”

“Seriously?” Buck eyed him, unimpressed. “That's it?”

“Actually,” Tommy spared a glance in Evan's direction, “she told me a little more than that.”

“Yeah? Like?”

“Like, that I- I'd probably be calling her mom soon anyway.”

Buck was glad he wasn't the one driving, because if he had been, he probably would have swerved right off the road and into a ditch. “R- Really? She said that?”

“Mhm. That's what she said right before you came out. She was sweet about it, seemed happy. May have been the wine though.”

“No, she... I'm sure she meant it.” Buck turned his head to stare out the window, hoping Tommy didn't notice the fact his hand was getting a little sweaty.

“Hey,” Tommy squeezed his hand, “it's not like she's planning our wedding or anything. She was being nice. Probably wanted to make me feel more comfortable with calling them by their first names.”

Buck managed a quick smile in Tommy's direction before returning his gaze to the highway. “Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

*****

Tommy entered the loft behind Buck, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You okay?” he asked, resting a hand against one of Buck's dining room chairs. “You were quiet most of the way home.”

“I'm fine,” Buck lied, plastering on a smile. “Just tired. Family time can get kinda exhausting for me sometimes.”

"Mm." Tommy set the keys on the table and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I gotta make a reminder to reserve a chopper in December. Phillip and I are gonna go to a Lakers game in Vegas.”

“Y- You made plans with my dad?”

“Mhm. Your parents are coming back in town in a couple months and your dad said he'd get tickets if I flew us there.” Tommy shrugged, “Seemed like a pretty good deal to me.”

“Mm, yeah. Yeah, it is. Sounds fun.”

Tommy looked up at Evan from his phone, noting the expression on his face. “I'm sure he'll get extra tickets if you wanna go? Maybe Howie could come along too. I just figured since basketball isn't really your thing...”

“No, no. I- You're right. I wouldn't wanna go. You two should go together. Bond,” he replied, before muttering out loud enough for Tommy to hear, “Since you'll be calling him dad soon anyway.”

Tommy sighed, putting his phone away. “I knew something was wrong. Come on, Evan, hit me with it. What'd I do?”

Buck headed to the fridge to grab a beer. “You didn't do anything.”

“Obviously, I did. You're clearly pissed at me.”

Buck shrugged. “I just think it's weird, okay? It's weird that my dad wants you to fly him around to basketball games. It's weird you were talking to my mom about marrying me when we don't even live together. Hell, we've never even talked about marriage.”

Tommy shook his head. “God, Evan, it's not like I'm dragging you down the aisle right now.” The words came out harsher than he intended. “And we didn't talk about marriage. It was something she said in passing. Sorry for being happy she thinks we'll last.”

“Forget I said anything, okay?”

“No, I'm not gonna do that. This is a really weird thing for you to be mad at me about.”

Buck slammed the bottle down on the counter so hard it caused a loud clang. “I told you I'm not mad at you!”

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “So you yell for fun now?”

"I'm not yelling!" he yelled. He took a breath, collecting himself before he continued. "I just don't wanna talk about it right now."

"Well that's too bad, because I do wanna talk about it. You can't get angry with me for things I didn't even say and then not explain why you're mad. That's not how this works."

Leaving the beer behind, Buck headed for the living room. “You wouldn't understand,” he said, waving Tommy off.

“Yeah, that's what I'm trying to do.” Tommy followed behind him until Buck grumpily turned back to him. “Gotta be honest, did not think you'd hate the fact that I got along with your parents. You were the one making a presentation on how to interact with them. Would you have preferred if I acted like an ass? Stepped on their toes? Made them uncomfortable?”

“I don't know, maybe.”

“You cannot be serious.”

"Well, it would've been better than you sucking up to them. Basically kissing the ground they walk on."

"Maybe you're right. We shouldn't be having this conversation right now." Now it was Tommy's turn to walk away and Buck's turn to follow. They made it to the dining room table before Tommy swirled back around to him. “You know, you are acting like such a child, Evan. Maybe I should call Howie and set up a playdate for you and Jee.”

“They're just trying to replace Daniel with you!” The accusation escaped him before his brain caught up with his mouth. The way Tommy stared in shock should have been enough to stop him, but it didn't. “That's all this is, so, you know, enjoy it while it lasts! As soon as they realize you're not what they imagined him to be, you'll be left behind.”

He'd gone too far. He'd probably gone too far a few minutes ago, if he were being honest, but now he'd definitely gone too far.

Tommy's face fell. Buck wasn't sure he'd ever seen him so visibly shaken before. “Wow. Okay. Uh, I don't... I think I'm gonna go home for tonight, Evan.” He picked his keys up from the table and headed for the door.

Half of Buck wanted to beg for him to stay. The other half wanted to yell and tell him that's fine, he wanted to be alone anyway!

He settled on not saying anything at all.

He kept his mouth sealed shut as Tommy left. He didn't even slam the door behind him. Buck wished he would have.

*****

It took three series of knocks before Tommy answered the door. He was wearing a sleeveless tank and a pair of boxers, his hair wildly free of product. There were dark circles under his eyes as he stared at Buck indignantly. “It's three in the morning.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here at three in the morning?”

“Can I come in?”

There was a pause, then Tommy moved out of the way so Buck could come inside. Tommy closed the door behind him, but stayed in the entryway. If this was going to turn into round two, he wasn't sure how long Evan would be welcome to stay. “Did you forget you have a key?” he asked.

“Yeah, sneak into the forty year old army vets house in the middle of the night,” Buck answered with a nervous smile. “I'd give you a heart attack... or get shot one.” He was trying to lighten the mood, but Tommy couldn't quite find the humor in the moment.

“Why are you here?” he reiterated.

Buck sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Couldn't sleep,” he admitted. “Could... Were you asleep?”

Tommy knew what the question really meant. Were you able to get rest after what happened earlier? Were you able to let this go?

“No, I wasn't asleep.”

“Oh, okay, um. Good. I mean, not good. But, good that I didn't wake you, I guess. Even though-”

“Evan, where's this going?”

“Can we,” Buck motioned toward the living room. “Can we sit? Talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” Tommy breathed out. “Of course.”

They moved to the living room, sitting stiffly on opposite ends of the sofa. There was an awkward minute of silence before Buck turned toward Tommy and began to ramble, “I'm sorry I acted like an idiot. I didn't mean the things I said, I swear. I think I got so jealous that you got along so easily with my parents that it made me feel, I don't know, insecure. Then I took it out on you, which wasn't fair. I was such a dick after a perfect night-”

“Evan.”

“-and you didn't deserve that. I know I screwed up. I- I know I did. I practically maimed you with my words the same way I maimed Eddie when I was jealous of him, and I-”

“Evan!”

Buck stopped. He looked up to see Tommy had turned toward him, watching him closely.

“What?” he asked.

“I forgive you.”

If things weren't so serious, Tommy might've laughed at the shocked expression on Evan's face. “Yo- You do?”

Tommy nodded. “I do.” He let out a sigh, scooting closer to Evan, “And I'm sorry, too. I just- I didn't think. I wanted to make a good impression, and I was so happy everything went well. I didn't think about what it would all mean to you. I'm sorry.”

“Oh God,” Buck dropped his head down. “I may actually be the worst person in the world. Tommy, I- I'm not mad they like you.”

“Evan.”

“No, really. I promise, I'm not mad. I'm,” he let out a laugh, “I'm thrilled. They have never really shown an interest in my life, not until the last few years. Even then, I never thought to introduce anyone to them. The fact they get along with you, it... it's incredible. See, it- like I said before, it's my jealousy. It's the fact it doesn't come that easily for me. I acted stupid, and immature, but I'm not mad at you. I'm not even mad at them. I'm just... sad, that it's not that way with me. And I took it out on you. You have no reason to be sorry. I'm sorry.”

“You told me about all the crap they put you through growing up, and I hate that they did that. It's not fair to you or Maddie. But you said they were trying to be better,” Tommy explained, “and they seemed so nice tonight. They liked me, or at least I think they did, and I was happy. It felt good, and I got caught up in that.”

“They did like you,” Buck assured him. “They do like you. A lot. And that's a good thing. I swear to you, Tommy, it's me. It was so easy for you to fit right in. I mean, I'm their kid and they had to go to therapy with me just to accept that. It... I don't know, seeing you guys getting along, I- it was a me problem, not you. Not them.” He moved himself closer to Tommy now, so they were both nearly in the center of the couch.

“I don't have to go with your dad,” Tommy said. “Really, I don't mind. And I know I probably freaked you out with the stuff your mom said, but I really think she was trying to be polite-”

“Tommy, no, I-” he reached out for Tommy's hands, who folded them into Evan's easily, “I want you to go with my dad. I want you guys to get along and have a good time. And the stuff my mom said, it... it didn't scare me.” He looked away, blushing a bit. “I like the thought of that. A lot.”

Tommy squeezed Buck's hand to get his attention back, a crinkly smile growing on his face. “Oh yeah?”

Buck nodded, grinning. “Yeah.”

They both leaned in at the same time, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

“You tired?” Tommy asked when he pulled back just enough to speak. “We can go to bed.”

Buck brought his hands up until they were curled around the nape of his neck. “Bed sounds nice.” He kissed him again, less gentle this time. He licked across Tommy's lips with his tongue until Tommy, without a seconds hesitation, opened his mouth to let him in. Tommy rested his hands on Buck's waist, gripping at his shirt.

“You're not tired, are you?” Tommy mumbled between kisses.

“Nope.” Buck ran his hands down Tommy's shoulders, over his chest, letting his nails drag over Tommy's clothed nipples. “You know, this is our first big fight,” he informed Tommy, lifting his shirt just enough to get his hands under the hem, feeling how Tommy sucked in a breath at something so simple as Evan touching his skin.

Tommy moaned, dropping his head to Buck's shoulder. “Make-up sex?”

Buck nodded. "Make-up sex," he agreed, taking Tommy's hand and they stood to head for the bedroom.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley

147 notes · View notes

lunarlando · 4 months ago

Note

Hi I just saw ur girl dad lando requests r open and ran over bc I'm obsessed with dad lando too and there's simply not enough fics on it unfortunately.

Anyway my fic/blurb idea is fluffy and slightly angsty? so lando and fem!wife!reader's daughters r in their teens and and they're used to reader (their mum) typically being the "bad cop" and lando being the "fun parent" who will spoil them and can never say no to them when reader does. One day readers tired of her teens hating her for being the mean one so they decide to switch roles and the girls r rlly confused and angry at lando and start being nice to reader who's enjoying watching lando take her place for once. Maybe the girls ask to go out to a party or ask for new phones or smth u can decide. Ignore my request if it doesn't seem interesting 😭 and have a grt day byee xx

thank you for the request! a few other grid kids make an appearance, hope that's okay! and lando is such a fun dad type guy you're so right x

feel free to request more :)

Having teenage girls was not an easy feat.

You were warned of the terrible twos and gotten through them twice with your sanity intact, but nobody had ever warned you about teenagers. You suspect it should’ve been a given, but when you thought about having teenagers you always saw yourself as the type of mum who your daughters would feel close to.

Now that you’re the mum of a sixteen and seventeen year old, you find yourself becoming the opposite. You’ve turned into the bad cop between Lando and yourself. He’s the fun parent, you’re the party pooper. He spoils Estelle and Delilah because he can, because he loves his girls more than life itself, and you’re stuck reining in his gift giving because you don’t want them to become accustomed to always getting what they want when they want no matter the cost.

Even when you put your foot down on some of their more extravagant requests, Lando finds a way around it.

Part of the reason Lando spoils them so much is because he was still racing in Formula One when both of them were born and while they were growing up, so he’d miss things sometimes. He tried his hardest not to miss bigger events like their birthdays and holidays, but other stuff like their school recitals, sports games—he did the best he could, but a lot of the time it just never aligned with his busy schedule.

Now that he’d taken a step back from being in the seat of a car for the past three years, he was trying to make up for lost time.

“I feel like the girls think I’m a hardass,” you sigh as you’re getting ready for bed one night. Lando is brushing his teeth, but he sticks his head out of the bathroom at your words, frowning at you with the brush still in his mouth. “Do you think they hate me?”

“You’re their mum, they don’t hate you,” he replies through toothpaste bubbles, wrinkling his nose at you. “All you’ve done their whole lives is take care of them. How could they hate you?”

“Because I’m their mum,” you say pointedly. Lando cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Mums and daughters are different from mums and sons. Trust me.”

“Okay, fair. But I don’t think you’re a hardass. You’re just…firm with them, is all.”

You snort unattractively, looking at him pointedly. “Yeah, I have to be, mister take my credit card, buy whatever you want.” Lando hums thoughtfully, disappearing back into the bathroom to finish washing up before reappearing and padding over to his side of the bed. “I love that you want them to have everything they could ever dream of, and I say this with nothing but even more love, but you’re not the best when it comes to saying no to the girls.”

“I know. I just…I hate it when they look so disappointed and sad.”

“And you think I do? I don’t want to be the bad cop, but someone has to,” you grumble, setting aside your book. Lando snuggles up close to you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “You should try it.”

“Ha, that’s funny.”

“No, I’m serious, Lan. Tomorrow, we switch roles. You’ll be me and I’ll be you, and then you’ll understand,” you propose, smiling at him in that way you know he won’t be able to resist. All these years and you’ve still got your husband wrapped around your finger.

“That doesn’t sound like a good time.”

“Oh, it won’t be. Not for you, at least. But we’re a team, aren’t we?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

—

Fortunately for Lando, things at the Norris household don’t get interesting until nighttime the following day.

“Hey Mum, we’re going out tonight. Just wanted to let you know since we might be out after curfew,” Estelle says absentmindedly, not looking up from her phone. Beside her, Delilah giggles quietly, ever her older sister’s follower. You want to tell them no—their curfew is late enough as it is and they’ve got school tomorrow—but you refrain. It’s Lando’s turn to be the bad cop.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Ask your father first though,” you reply instead. From the couch where he’s watching some rerun of an old grand prix, Lando straightens at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. You raise a brow, tilting your head at the two girls who’ve turned their attention on their dad. “Go on, he’s listening.”

They share a confused look with each other, but you can see the gears turning in their quick teenage brains. If mum said yes, dad would definitely say yes. Easy.

Or so they think.

Delilah bounces over to sit on the couch next to Lando, smiling at him widely. “Hi daddy! Can we go to a party tonight?”

Now Estelle’s sitting on his other side, bringing out the same patented charming Norris grin. “Well, it’s not really a party. More like a few friends hanging out. Super laid back.”

“Uh huh. Gonna need some more details, lovebugs,” Lando hums, flashing their same smile right back at them. There’s no use in trying to play the guy who invented the game. “Who’s gonna be there, where it is. You wouldn’t want your mum and I to worry, would you?”

“Um…” Delilah balks. She probably wasn’t expecting him to ask so many questions. He usually doesn’t, just says yes because he can’t bring himself to say no to them.

Estelle cuts in before her sister can potentially dig them into an inescapable hole. “Adrien’s going, Clara and Maeve will be there too, and Teo.”

Adrien and Teo—Charles’ and Carlos’ sons, respectively, and Clara and Maeve—Oscar’s twin daughters. You know that she knows the two of you trust your friends, so name dropping their kids would give them a fighting chance. She’s smart like that. You’d admire it more if her intellect wasn’t aimed at sweet talking her parents.

Lando sneaks another panicked glance back at you, and you shake your head slightly. That solidifies his resolve, because as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint them, you have an agreement, and a deal’s a deal. “Sorry girls, it’s gonna be a no. We’re all staying in tonight.”

“What?”

“Let’s do something as a family, yeah? Game night? Or you can do some laps on the sim, I know how much you like that,” Lando offers up, as if enticing them with sim racing would soften the blow of their dad’s first no.

“Seriously? But dad, it’s not a party! We’re just gonna watch a movie or something!” Estelle exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

The girls share another look with each other, this one more irritated than confused. Lando just tries his best to stay firm looking. You, on the other hand, watch the whole thing play out from where you are, fighting to hide a smile, because now he knows how you feel all the damn time. It shouldn’t please you, but as someone who’s been taking the brunt of their teenage-ness for a while now, it brings you just a smidge of joy.

“That doesn’t change things, unfortunately. You two will be staying here with your dear old parents, and that’s it.”

“That’s so unfair though!” Estelle huffs, rolling her eyes.

Lando cocks his head at her, brows raised in challenge. “I’d watch the attitude if I were you, Stell.”

Delilah switches her tactic to try and salvage things, coming over to where you’re still chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. Out of the two of them, your youngest knows exactly where her mum’s soft spot lies. “Mum? We just want to hang out with our friends. Please?”

“You heard your dad, girls,” you say, shrugging. “If he says no, it’s no. Sorry.”

They disappear down the corridor grumbling to each other rather quickly after that, no doubt already texting their friends about how awful their dad is. It almost makes you laugh, because for once, you’re not the one they’re mad at. Lando trudges over to you, pressing himself against your back in a rather dejected hug.

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

“Is this what it feels like to be you?” he groans. You can feel him frowning against your neck and you chuckle, running your fingers through his curls affectionately. “We’re setting some more ground rules, effectively immediately.”

“Like what, don’t be mean to your mum? They’re teenagers, Lan. It’s what they do.”

“I was never like this.” That draws quite a laugh from you. “What?”

“So if I call your parents and ask them if you were ever a little shit when you were younger, they’d say no?”

“...Don’t call them.”

“That’s what I thought.” You kiss his cheek gratefully still. “We balance each other out well, I’d say. I don’t mind being the bad cop sometimes, but you can’t just be a fun dad all the time.”

“But it’s so fun being a fun dad,” he whines, but you know he understands. “I don’t have to feel like this.”

“You’ll get over it, darling. They will too, and we’ll be back to the same old thing tomorrow.”

“I love you, bad cop.”

“Love you more, fun dad.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris x fem!reader #dad!lando norris x wife!reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris flangst #lando thoughts 💭

182 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 10 days ago

Note

I remember a while back you did a fun ask game where people sent in kinks and you rated how good an investment they are and it keeps popping into my mind because of how chill you were about kinks that even kinky people tend to view really negatively in the sense of ethics. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to *feel* chill in terms of my own kink ethics. I intellectually believe that fantasies can’t be immoral and that kink with other adults is moral as long as there is consent (and appropriate risk awareness).

But I am still pretty triggered on the topic when it comes up. Eg, earlier a friend told me they are cutting someone they love off for being friends with someone who “sexualizes trauma”. And yeah, that is definitely where some of my darker kinks come from—though not all. They’re entitled to that opinion and action of course! But hearing all the things they said against this person triggered me, making me feel like I’m dangerous and that it is wrong of me to interact with them going forward even though this isn’t a topic I would discuss with them anyway. Until writing this I hadn’t even considered if they are still a person I *want* to interact with given this. Though I’m sort of unclear on whether it is actually wrong of me to interact with them still.

I am working with my therapist on this. And I know it will take some time to work through. I was just wondering if you had any words of wisdom on the topic.

My thoughts are that if I had a friend who cut people off for having problematic (or in this case, just like, unsettling?) kinks, I would not feel safe around that friend. It would seem to me that they were judgemental, moralizing, and had a completely different viewpoint on how the world operated than I did, and that sooner or later they would demonize me for things I thought, fantasized about, felt, and so on. I might have sympathy if the person was a trauma survivor early in their recovery, as it's quite common for people to think in very dogmatic, black-and-white ways about morality in order to protect themselves and to be highly reactive to perceived threat. But their feelings of safety are their own business to guard over, and mine are mine, and I just wouldn't be able to get along very intimately with someone like that. I'd have to give them a wide berth until they started to get over it, if they got over it.

Recently, a friend of mine was completely ostracized from their local queer community simply for writing a piece that touched on a taboo fantasy -- a taboo fantasy they had concocted as a way to cope with some really gnarly early childhood abuse. They lost performance gigs and friends, had hate campaigns erected against them, had mobs of people threatening all their remaining friends and colleages, all based on a rumor about a piece that they never even got to perform anywhere because someone had heard it was about a taboo subject and even the IDEA of what it might be made them uncomfortable, and so they assumed my friend was condoning abuse when they were literally just describing what had already happened to them and how they found healing from it. Shit like this sucks, and it comes down most heavily against queer people, especially trans femmes, and I've seen the fear mongering ruin enough lives that I try to steer really clear of it.

My life has been so blessed by inclusion of people with really intense, taboo, stigmatized kinks into my life. I was afraid to even breathe a word of my hypnosis fetish to anybody until I was in my late 20s, because I thought it was so freakish and evil. and now I routinely talk with people about really animalistic feral fantasies, harkness rule violating monsterfucking, rape play, necro fantasies, abdl, age regression, incest roleplaying, blood, eating bodily fluids, and everything else that freaks people out but harms no living being. Even when it's not my stuff, even when it's something I might personally find a little squicky to actually be in the room with, it makes me feel seen, safe, and free to express the depths within me. I think surrounding yourself with more people like that or just consuming their stories can help a lot. And trying to find some mental distance from the people who do fear monger and get triggered. They have their reasons for feeling as they do. But that doesn't mean we have to align with their values or actions.

129 notes · View notes

mt-oe · 6 months ago

Note

felt like this would be cutteee, but can we get a small writing maybe of reader x modern!mizu in their shared apartment, but there is a fly and both the reader and mizu start arguing (lovingly) on who will kill it? mizu just doesnt want to and reader is scared to death of the flies, just a silly idea!

i hope you are doing well! take care! <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for this idea <3 I really love fun and quirky requests like these. They're so unique and, at the same time, so cute and silly.

Part two link? Kaboom!

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, suggestive themes, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

This was just ridiculous.

Did you really just panic-call her a million times for this?

Yeah.

Did she really just go past the speed limit for this?

Umm...yeah.

It was early evening and Mizu had just wrapped up a meeting with her client. Stepping into the elevator, she watched as the numbers descended, mind busy with thoughts about what could you be doing at home today.

Maybe folding the laundry while watching a show? Oh wait, did you eat already? Maybe she could bring you something delicious today. Oh god, she really wanted to see you already. To bury her face against your shoulder while you did your own thing like read a book or a comic.

Her thoughts were cut off by the loud 'ding' sound from the elevator. The doors opened and just as she was about to step out, her phone was suddenly bombarded with texts all coming from you.

: mizu wya pls come home : hurry : pls : pls : pls im going to cry : answer me now pls : pls ;; : pls oh my god he's here : come home NOW plsplspls im scared : baby im really going to cry pls go home nowplspls

He?

Who's he?

Her eyebrows furrowed at your messages. You never really texted her when you knew she was at work except for the occasional 'update me or u're sleeping on the couch' text. And who was this 'he'? A tightening feeling squeezing at her throat from the rising anxiety from how scared you seemed. What got you so worked up anyway?

The anxiety she felt rose even more when she heard her phone ringing. You were calling her. But just as she was about to answer, you had ended it immediately. Then, another call. Ended. Another call. Ended.

"What the—?" Her eyes narrowed as this little game of panic-calling her and ending it before she could respond continued. Finally, she was able to answer the call, only to hear a small terrified squeak and a loud thump. The sound of your footsteps scurrying and running around the room could be heard before she heard you pick the phone up from the floor.

"Oh shit, nonono please," she heard you say through the phone before you let out a disgusted sounding whine then...buzzing? followed by the sound of something being thrown. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she continued to listen, trying to figure out what was happening behind the phone. "Dove, what's going on? Why are you—"

"Mizu, baby, please come home now please. There's—oh my god it's so fucking big.." Your pleading cut off with a gasp before she heard another thing being thrown and another disgusted whine.

What.

What was so fucking big, huh?

Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask, the sound of you dropping the phone and the call ending cut her off. Flustered didn't even begin to describe what was boiling inside her. The hairs on the back of her neck standing as she hurried to her motorbike, footsteps fast yet quiet.

'Just what was so fucking big?' she thought, hands subconsciously buckling her helmet more aggressively than usual. Even the way she pushed her bike off the center stands was more brash than usual, almost as if she was about to throw it around.

Her mind was fogged, boggled with what could possibly be happening at home. An intruder maybe? But she couldn't hear any other footsteps aside from yours. Maybe the intruder was quiet? But that seemed so unlikely, what kind of intruder would break-in early in the evening with light footsteps?

Fuck, she didn't know anymore. She just wanted to get home and make sure you were safe. Her hands cranking up the engine further, going past 100km/h on an 80km/h road. Absolutely no fucks given if she got a speeding ticket. Fuck getting caught. Fuck the police. She needed to make sure you were okay.

As soon as she reached your shared apartment, she steadied her breath as she took off her helmet, preparing for what ever could be happening behind the door. Her mind was sharp and focused, ready for anything.

...

Well maybe except this...

Upon opening the door, she was greeted with a soft buzzing sound followed by your figure covered in a blanket from head-to-toe, running away from something that was flying around. Your breath hitched as the unidentified flying object..insect..whatever landed on the basket of apples on the kitchen counter. She blinked in clear confusion, fully expecting something worse.

As soon as you saw her enter, your eyes lit up as if your savior had arrived before running towards her and pulling her in. "There! Hurry!" you lightly exclaimed, pointing to the basket of apples resting on the kitchen counter, lightly pushing your still-confused towards it.

On top of the apples was a fruit fly. A pretty big one at that. Soft buzzing emanating from its small dark green body as its red eyes shining ominously, small grubby hands rubbing itself together. This was what you were panicking about? This was he? This was what was so big?

She groaned, rubbing her face in her hands and shaking her head. Her eyes narrowed at the pest, staring it down to its very soul as if cursing the fly from its current life up to its ancestors. If looks could kill, the fly would have been toast by the moment her blue eyes landed on it.

"Kill it. Hurry," you whispered to her, wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as you took a few more steps back. Your body shuddered as your eyes stared at the insect's eyes. You swore the fly was looking back up at you with its ruby red eyes, plotting to murder you in your sleep and frolic around in the blood. Creepy.

Her eyes continued to stare at the insect before glancing at you and stepping away with a loud sigh. "Dove...it's a fly. I'm sure you can handle that," she sighed out tiredly, setting her helmet down on the kitchen counter beside the basket of apples. The impact of the helmet on counter causing small vibrations, startling the fly and prompting it fly away.

As soon as the little menace took off, you immediately pulled your girlfriend near, hiding behind her. The buzzing sound growing louder then softer then louder again was making you freak out. "I can't! It's disgusting!" you whined, making Mizu snort softly.

She placed a hand on top of your head, giving you a pat despite how flabbergasted she was from the absurdity of this situation. Did she really just go past the speed limit because you were freaking out over a fruit fly? Really...she didn't know whether she thought you were adorable or frustrating.

"...I'm going to put my things away," she sighed out, turning around to walk off before being pulled back in by you. Your eyes glaring at her before glancing at the fly which had now made its place on the sofa. "I..I'll wash the dishes for a week. Please just kill it," you pleaded. She rolled her eyes at your proposition, but made no move to pull her arm away from you. "You do that anyway. What difference would it make?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

A nervous gulp went down your throat as your eyes watched the fly move around the cushions in search for whatever it could eat. You swore it was rubbing its tiny arms menacingly at you, making a threat that only the two of you could see.

"U-Umm...laundry for a month?"

"Our laundry isn't too bad for that to be tempting."

"Food? Any dinner you want for a month?"

"That...Hmmm..Do you think I care what food you cook?"

"A massage?"

"Not interested."

"Oh c'mon, Mizu! Just..Just kill it already!" you whined, tugging at her arm. The glare you had earlier was replaced with a pleasing look. So adorable, she almost wanted to give in. "Don't want to. I'm pretty tired and your little messages didn't really help," she replied, turning to head back to the bedroom.

Panic set itself on to your face as soon as she pulled her arm away from you. More so when the little pest started fluttering its wings again, the piece of shit buzzing again. Shit...what could be a tempting offer? Something you know your girlfriend couldn't resist...hmm..

An idea popped up in your mind, making you blush a bit. You were hesitant but your desire to get rid of the fly invading your territory was stronger. With a bit of hesitance, you opened your mouth to make the offer..

"Phone sex while you're at work..?"

...

She was sold.

The moment the offer escaped your lips, she froze immediately. Her body heating up slightly and a slight dust of pink making its way to her cheeks and the tip of her ears at the thought. Your naughty pictures while she was in a meeting, maybe a voice recording on her lunch break, sexting while waiting for the next client. If she was lucky, a video call during a 'bathroom break'.

She really did miss you while she was at work. There were times when she wanted to just bail out of a meeting or call in sick just to be with you, but she knew she couldn't do that. As much as she hated talking with insufferable indecisive clients, she loves providing for you.

And your offer? Your offer might just be the cure to her unspoken problem.

Removing her jacket, she opened the window and approached the fly. The two of them having a stare-off while she approached it with slow, quiet footsteps. As soon as the insect started flying, she used her jacket to swat it off, guiding it towards the window until the buzzing little creature was flung out of your apartment. She immediately closed the window, locking it before looking over at you with a slight smirk.

"Make sure you add some videos in for me, okay?" she chuckled lowly, handing her jacket over to you before heading towards the bedroom. You really couldn't back down from this anymore. "You're lucky I love you," you sighed out, following after her, a smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm lucky you're a wuss."

"Oh shut up!"

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #bes #mizu x fem!reader

175 notes · View notes

educatedsimps · 6 months ago

Note

hello!!! I love your fics! Can I request a kenma x reader? where he does things he hates but still does it for the reader because the reader loves it? eg: getting wet in the rain etc? thank you if do!!

≪ back to fics masterlist

kozume kenma x reader

a/n: HI ANONNN i'm so glad you like our stuff! and ofc bae :) yes kenma would 100% do stuff he doesn’t like just for his partner because they love it.

cw: not exactly the usual type of fic with a storyline, it's kind of like headcanons? mostly? but written headcanons? i think ????? idk man. anyway it's all fluff and kenma being ridiculously in love with you :)

wc: 1.7k

fic below!

the following is based on true events: lyssa: *sends yves a screenshot of the request* look there's another kenma req! yves: he's a literal cat lyssa: yeah! wait but that's not the point of the- yves: hold on i have a tweet for this lyssa: LMAO ofc u do

okay, on to the real stuff!

"Kenmaaaaa, let's go (insert activity of choice)!"

"...do we have to?"

"Yes! It'll be fun, I promise!"

"...are you sure?"

"Yes, come on!"

"...you really wanna?"

"Yes! And I promise to spend a whole day gaming with you. We can play literally any game you want. Now, can we go? Pleaseeee?"

Sigh. "Alright."

This was the usual conversation between the two of you whenever you wanted to do something Kenma didn't necessarily enjoy. In other words, you’d bribe him with a full day of gaming together.

You knew he'd much rather stay in any day of the week instead of go out and engage in such uncomfortable, sweaty and outdoor (derogatory) activities. Anyone who even remotely knew him would know that. However, you genuinely thought that doing more physical activities together would be good for the both of you.

Hence your increasingly frequent pleas for him to join you in doing said activities.

The first time you asked him out on such a date, it was to go swimming together. He looked at you with a blank expression, but you could read his thoughts exactly. "Do you even like me? Do you even know me?" was what he seemed to be saying. With his eyes, at least.

To be honest, most of his reasons for not wanting to go swimming were pretty valid. Why would he wanna get soaked just to take another shower after that? Why would he go swimming when there are gonna be people around to witness him flap around in the water? And his hair is already bleached, so why would he want to ruin it further by going into a pool practically loaded with chlorine? Out of everything, chlorine had to be the bacteria killer? Why couldn't it have been something nicer, like chocolate or something?!

Fair enough, you thought. But by the time the two of you were out of the pool that day (you don't even remember if you just played in the water or if you actually swam laps together), the sun was literally shining down on him, yet his smile seemed brighter than the sun itself. You weren't sure exactly what about swimming had made him smile like that the first time, but since then, every time you suggested going swimming together, you'd remind him how much fun he had the last time and he'd be less opposed to the idea.

Even though he'd probably never admit it to you, he actually enjoyed going swimming with you that first time because of you. The way you laughed and the way you seemed so comfortable in the water honestly captivated him. Then he started to notice how the sun reflected off the water and onto your skin, casting a golden glow around you.

So damn pretty, he remembered thinking to himself.

Soon, you started going swimming at night - to not "die of UV rays", in his words - and the way the moonlight reflected off your skin was simply ethereal. He couldn't have used any other word to describe you in that state. You reminded him of a siren, and if real sirens were even half as beautiful as you, he’d understand why those pirates and sailors were so easily lured out to sea.

Even if you couldn't swim swim, you still looked so content in the water that slowly, he couldn't say no to going swimming with you anymore.

The next kind of activity you asked him to do together was to go to the beach. And of course, you were met with the usual resistance at first. The way his face lightened when you said "swimming" then pinched together when you said "at the beach" told you exactly what he was thinking.

Ew. Sand. Everywhere.

Honestly? Valid. Sand gets everywhere - and I mean everywhere. The sand gets scorching hot in the daytime so why would anyone wanna go there? To get sand up your ass? To burn your feet off?? Like, can't you just do that over the kitchen stove or something?

That was until you were spending the day together at the beach, building sandcastles and sunbathing and just hanging out by the water. You could never forget how relaxed he looked by the end of it.

Sure, there were tons of other people at the beach that day, but he completely forgot about that when he was with you. You just did that somehow - make him feel like it was just the two of you even in a crowded room.

"It's not that bad, right, Kenma?"

"Eh..."

It's "not that bad" only because of you but I'm not admitting that, is what he was thinking.

This process continued with several more activities - cycling, hiking, even going to the gym.

When you asked him to go cycling together, his face told you, "What makes you think I'd enjoy cycling when there isn't even water to help me cool off this time? And what if I lose balance and fall?"

When you asked him to go hiking together, his expression screamed, "There aren't even gonna be wheels this time, are you kidding me? My legs are gonna give out. You're gonna have to haul me back home by yourself and it's not gonna be my problem."

And when you asked to go to the gym together, he muttered, "Kuroo and Yamamoto are rubbing off on you."

Despite these complaints, Kenma always came home looking more refreshed than ever. Even though he still didn’t love those sports, he didn’t hate them either, thanks to you. But that wasn't the point.

To him, the point was just seeing you do what made you happy. And as much as he hated getting all sweaty and sore and tired, he absolutely loved watching you go about the activities you had planned. Sure, you were just as sweaty and sore and tired as he was, but he didn't care. He honestly just cared that you were happy, and he knew then that he would do anything just to make you smile like that for the rest of your lives.

As for non-physical activities, if you love doing things like going to the museum, painting, gardening, yoga or meditation, board games, photography, he'd definitely be less resistant even though he doesn't particularly love those activities, and of course he'd just enjoy spending that time with you. Honestly, he's just glad you didn't pick something physically draining this time.

One time, you dragged him away from his video game and out of his bedroom to go play in the rain together. When you told him you wanted to go out into the rain, he had half a mind to drag you back into the house and lock you in the bedroom with him. But he was also kinda curious as to what you could possibly find so exciting in the middle of a rainstorm, so he followed you outside with just his hoodie, sweatpants and house slippers.

As raindrops pelted against his skin and clothes, he looked up to see you standing in front of him with your arms held out to the side and your head tilted slightly upward.

It was cool and rainy night, and Kenma would typically be in the comfort of his bed or gaming chair, safely sheltered from the rain. Why the hell would you wanna go out in the rain when you have a perfectly good house to stay in? He thought earlier.

Now, he finally had an answer to that. Two, in fact.

One, it was beautiful. He's obviously seen rain before, but only from his window. He had never been in the rain like this before. He's been caught in the rain on the way home from school or practice, sure, but never deliberately in the rain.

Looking up, the night sky was splattered with stars, barely visible behind metallic grey storm clouds. Silvery droplets raced towards the ground and glistening specks of water started to collect on his lashes. Blinking them away, he could see you in front of him.

The second answer to his earlier question was simple. You.

Dressed in one of his old volleyball jerseys, home shorts and slippers, you still looked so goddamn beautiful to him. You were laughing wholeheartedly even as raindrops assaulted your skin from above. You were somehow glowing even with just the dim streetlights nearby. Turning towards him, you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards you, further out onto the empty street.

"Come on, babe, have some fun!" You yelled, making sure he could hear you through the downpour. He could feel the rainwater slowly soaking through the material of his hoodie and onto his skin. He watched as you started kicking your feet and jumping into puddles of water on the road, and soon, the two of you were in the middle of an all-out puddle war.

Sooner or later you'd both be out of breath, and you'd end up with your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. As the two of you swayed slowly back and forth, everything seemed to be in slow motion. The falling of rain around you, the steady beating of your heart, your slow breaths and the quiet rumble of thunder nearby added to the overall ambience.

Thinking back, he wasn't sure if this experience was beautiful because of the rain or because of you. Probably the latter, he thought. Furthermore, if he had to describe this experience in one word, he'd say it was magical. Simply and absolutely magical, and all thanks to you.

That day, he also decided that going out into the rain with you was worth an extra shower, and eventually this became a habit for the two of you whenever it rained heavily at night. If you moved to an apartment, you'd stand on the balcony together and stay there while it rained. Sometimes you'd dance, sometimes you'd play around with the puddles of rainwater on the ground, and sometimes you'd just be in each other's arms talking about anything and everything.

Main point is, he’s in love with you and he would do anything for you - even if it means getting sweaty and tired. Though I don’t think he’d complain that much if you asked to play volleyball HAHAHA

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #lyssa.writes #simps.write #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyu #hq fluff #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma x reader fluff

159 notes · View notes

daisyvisions · 1 year ago

Text

✦ Day 19 - Face F*cking

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: academic rival!Changmin x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.8K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), will consider this a dark fic, face fucking, blowjob, blackmail (sexual favor - don't read if triggering) , mean!changmin, slight fingering and mentions of it, slight handjob and ball massaging, dacryphilia?, some graphic descriptions, names used (sweetheart, whore, slut, good girl - wow that's the whole quad), a bunch of swearing, reader is basically being used here, let me know if I missed any more! Proofread once, will edit later if needed.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Did not expect how this one turned out if I’m completely honest, but here you go! This was fun to write, different tone than what I usually do! Fun fact, story was based on this little Tumblr game I did long time ago.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

“Love me or hate me, both are in my favour.”

A picture quote you mindlessly scrolled pass as you were on your phone taking a break from a paper that was due at midnight. It’s not that you procrastinated this specific essay. In fact, you could even do it in your sleep. That’s just how fast your brilliant brain works.

Today just seemed like any other normal day. Wake up, go to school, come back home, the usual routine. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. But not even your brain could conjure up the events that were about to unfold in three… two… one…

Ding dong.

You looked up from your phone, eyebrows knitting together in confusion from the sound of your front door ringing. Who could it possibly be? You didn’t plan any hangouts with friends nor did you order any takeout for dinner. You think for a moment to check if you had any deliveries coming in-

Ding dong.

You got up from your chair and placed your phone down on the desk to answer the door. As soon as you swing it open your eyes slowly look up to meet another pair of eyes you were definitely not expecting to see at all.

His figure leaning against the doorframe like the men you read in your books. But only this time, you wanted to punch him.

“Hey sweetheart. Missed me?” He smirks down at you.

“Changmin? What the hell are you doing here?” You question.

“I could ask myself the same thing-” He suddenly walks into your hallway uninvited. You scoff at his rudeness (not that you were surprised, he’s always like this with you anyway.)

“Cozy-” His eyes survey the room. “-didn’t expect you to live in a place like this especially with that icy attitude of yours.” He turns his heel to face you, you roll your eyes as you close the door and walk towards him, meeting in the middle of your living room.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“No need to get aggressive, just here to collect that favor you owe me.”

“Favor? I don't owe you any favors what the hell are you talking about?” Your patience wearing thin as his words dance around you instead of getting straight to the point.

“Oh… you don't remember?” His eyes gleam with a hint of mischief. “Let me refresh your memory then-” He turns his back to you as he walks towards the couch and plops himself down, instantly manspreading and getting comfy as if were his own home.

“If I can remember correctly, you owe me a favor from helping ward off that jackass during Younghoon’s party. Grabbing my arm and pretending I was your boyfriend so that he could fuck off. Ringing any bells?”

“Yeah, and I thanked you for it-”

“No no no. You didn’t thank me.” He interrupts you. “You said ‘Never doing this again but I owe you one.’”

“That counts as a thank you-”

“C’mon now sweetheart. You’re smarter than that.” His black orbs staring you down, slowly making you feel unsettled. He suddenly gets up from his seat and walks towards you like a predator, slowly walking you backwards until your back hits the wall.

“Enough stalling. I’m here to cash in my favor now.” His hand resting at the side of your head.

“W-what did you have in mind?” Your voice slightly shaking. His other hands lifts to hold your chin before the corner of his lips slowly curl upward.

“On your knees…”

“I’m sorry?” Your eyes widen. Did he just-

“Are we speaking two languages? On your knees. Or else…”

“Or else what?” You try to play it cool and hide the fear coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, Changmin pulls out his phone, plays the video in his gallery, and shows it to you. You were like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as you saw the figure moving through the tiny screen. Said figure was moaning and playing with themselves like some kind of homemade porn.

It was you. It was a video of you touching yourself.

“Give that to me!” You try to reach for his phone, but Changmin already anticipated your moves by holding the phone high up beyond your reach.

“Nuh-uh. I didn't say you could touch my phone now did I?”

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Panic and anger radiating from your body.

“I have my ways.” He smiled at you as if he surprised a friend at their birthday. But this was not a gift at all.

“That was for my ex’s eyes only. How. Did. You. Get. It?” You attempt to reach for phone once again.

“Well, he's not the smartest of the bunch. Seriously you dated that idiot? Expected more from you.” He says with a disappointed tone.

“Changmin this isn’t funny. Delete that NOW!” You demand him.

“No can do sweetheart. Grant me my favor and I’ll consider. If you don’t, this hot as fuck video will be played in the auditorium for everyone to see. How will the whole school think of their precious little valedictorian now?”

As you look into his eyes, you could already tell he’s not playing around. You would know this, you see that look every time he would try to win against you. And you can’t put your whole reputation down the line. Not like this.

You gulp down the saliva in your throat and let out probably the biggest sigh of defeat you’ve ever uttered your life. You pulled the hair tie out that was on your wrist and hastily tied your hair as you sink down to your knees, looking up at him with the face of disgust.

“Such a good girl. Was that so hard?” He coos at you. “Now, get to it before I change my mind.”

You hesitate for a moment before you reach out your hand to touch his bulge. Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion as soon as you touch his already hard member.

“But you’re alrea-”

“What? You think I didn’t already touch myself watching your video?” He says this like it’s common knowledge. “Needed something to work with. And trust me, it fucking worked.” He smirked down at you.

“You’re disgusting.” You grimace at him.

“And you’re taking way too slow.” Changmin unbuckles his pants and instantly pulls out his cock from his boxers.

If anyone told you your rival’s dick was rock hard right in front of your face, you would’ve vomited. But here you are, in this exact scenario. His cock flushed pink with a hot mushroom tip oozing out with what you probably thought was the most delicious pearls of precum you’ve ever seen.

“If you want this done quick, you better listen to what I say got it?” He raises his eyebrow. You nod your head in response.

“Good. Now kiss it.” You immediately hold his length in your hand and close your eyes before giving the tip a light peck, already tasting him on your lips. You give another peck to his tip before kissing the under side of his cock. Planting each kiss gently but firm at the same time.

“Fuck that’s it. Keep kissing my cock.” Changmin hisses at the feeling of your soft lips. His hand resting on the wall the balance himself. He groans suddenly when he feels your other hand massaging his balls as you continue to leave hot kisses on him.

“You’re such a little tease you know that? That’s what I’ve always liked about you. Getting me so riled up all the time just wanna fuck the brat out of you.” He mumbles as he watches you.

You’re not gonna lie, hearing him dirty talk like that sends your core throbbing like a bitch in heat. You keep kissing his cock until you’re suddenly licking it, practically making out with it at this point.

And somehow you don’t even realize that you’ve stopped massaging his balls just to snake your hand under your skirt to rub little circles on your sensitive clit, trying to relieve the ache down there.

This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Changmin however, making him smile from ear to ear at the sight beneath him.

“Touching yourself now are we? You were always a selfish one.” He tuts.

“But that’s alright. I’ll allow it. Just thank me. Say it-”

You pause kissing his member to look up at him with a raised eyebrow, replacing it with your hand jerking him off.

“What?” You slightly tilt your head to the side

“Go ahead sweetheart…Thank me.” He holds your face with his free hand and places the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip.

“Thank me. Like the dirty little whore you are.” You scoff. Of all things, he’s still looking for that? His eyes go wide at your response.

“No? Rather take my cock instead of saying two simple words?” He pulls your bottom lip with his fingers, making you whimper from the slight tug.

“If you aren’t gonna thank me, then might as well treat you like a fucking slut.” As soon as Changmin says this he swats your hand away from his cock and grabs it firmly and squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth with is other hand and shoves his whole length inside.

Before you even have the time to process what’s going on, both his hands are grabbing your face as he fucks himself in your mouth.

Gluck gluck gluck.

That’s all the sounds you can hear ringing in your ears as Changmin groans in pleasure. He fucks your mouth with raw aggression, you’re sure your throat’s gonna bruise after this from how his whole length goes in and out. He’s bigger than you anticipated, making you slightly gag as small tears from fall from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, especially when you’re like this.” He continues to fuck himself into your mouth. The way he manhandles your face as he quickens his thrusts has you getting wetter by the second.

And without warning he instantly shoots his hot load down your throat as his hips stutter. Swallowing the warm salty liquid as it infiltrates your taste buds… and it’s intoxicating.

You cough out and try to catch your breath as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, tucking it back inside his pants before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Such a good girl.” He looks down at you with a post orgasm haze in his eyes before zipping his pants up and walking towards the front door. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“W-where are you going?” Your raspy voice calls out to him.

“You didn't think I was gonna stay did you?” He turns the knob and pulls the door open.

Before he sets a foot out of the door he looks back at you over his shoulder and smiles one last time,

“You really should've just said ‘thank you’ instead…”

#deoboyznet #ji changmin #changmin smut #tbz smut #tbz fics #tbz scenarios #tbz #tbz hard hours #the boyz drabbles #the boyz hard hours #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz smut #kpop smut #the boyz fanfic

452 notes · View notes

the-boy-meets-evil · 9 months ago

Text

today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again.

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful.

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with.

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do.

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.”

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.”

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief.

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.”

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased.

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party.

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met.

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either.

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together.

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.”

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say.

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed.

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning.

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back.

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are.

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends.

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful?

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks.

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

“Maybe I am,” you answer.

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks.

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say.

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work?

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction.

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll.

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.”

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by.

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid.

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?”

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.”

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget?

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you.

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist.

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs.

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine.

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.”

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm.

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs.

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming.

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace.

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge.

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say.

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke.

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.”

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life.

325 notes · View notes