#Art of Beer and Food Pairing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minisugakoobies · 1 year ago

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Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no?

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye.

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate.

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb.

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide.

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch.

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that.

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.”

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through.

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light.

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do.

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.”

“I live here.”

“So that’s fine, then?”

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?”

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?”

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall.

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard.

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky.

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?”

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon.

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.”

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?”

You nod. The stranger hums.

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.”

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?”

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Fair.”

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off.

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?”

He raises an eyebrow, nods.

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks.

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?”

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.”

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.”

“Thanks for the tokes.”

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute -

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?”

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative.

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.”

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.”

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.”

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.”

“And I need that?”

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window.

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away.

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner.

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to.

“Again?”

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight.

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages.

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick.

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?”

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way.

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!”

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.”

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San.

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in.

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace.

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.”

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares.

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his.

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?”

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts -

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door.

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag.

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?”

“A brownie.”

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?”

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door.

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half.

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite.

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to.

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?”

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.”

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.”

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.”

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now.

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.”

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat?

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.”

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.”

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.”

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof.

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him?

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?”

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.”

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment.

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.”

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you.

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before.

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation.

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong.

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle.

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?”

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.”

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation.

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again.

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used.

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit.

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again.

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it.

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire.

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips.

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?”

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul.

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss.

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out.

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!”

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell.

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks.

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad.

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!”

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly.

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before.

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away.

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative.

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly.

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back.

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core.

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights.

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know.

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.”

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble. “As soon as you tell me your name.”

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!”

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time.

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting.

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure.

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then -

He stops.

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch.

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!”

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.”

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it?

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs.

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist.

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?”

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin.

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.”

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary:

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over.

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth.

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly.

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.”

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word.

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name.

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan.

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face.

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.”

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth.

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.”

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while.

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more.

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was.

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?”

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile.

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?”

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

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blockedbykei · 5 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

🏐 — kageyama tobio x f!reader

— synopsis: kageyama always had one agenda in his life: volleyball. it just so happens that you seemed to challenge him even more than the sport has ever done in his life.

- warnings: pro player!kageyama, frenemies to lovers, volleyball player!reader, swearing, kageyama being too obsessed with volleyball while also being obsessed with you, angst to fluff. lyrics taken from "slut!" by taylor swift but the story isn't actually based on the song lol

— parts: i, ii, iii, iv

i; being this young is art

kageyama only had one agenda settled in his life: volleyball.

every day, every second and every minute that took up his life, he'd spent it with his feet on the court, his sweat dripping down his body, his eyes on the ball, and his ears listening to the sweet sound of the ball richocheting off every corner of the gymnasium.

he felt like he couldn't live without the feeling of the blue and yellow leather being spiked with his palm, or the way it felt on his fingers when he sets it, or how the impact felt on his wrists. it was his craving, his air, his life.

was it an exaggeration? others may say so. kageyama thinks it's simply his passion.

and then he would eat and eat until all that food would turn into muscle. on mornings he would go on jogs, afternoons would be spent in courts, evenings would be spent planning how his next game could occur.

serve. set. receive. spike. repeat.

it was a cycle he'd run around until his heart would stop beating and his legs had run out of life. he never had any other responsibilities to stress himself out on (except his studies, of course). his love, attention, and care– all on volleyball.

so it was no surprise if someone were to find him spending his free time in the gym, with waterbottles aligned by the net, practicing alone because his team decided to use their rest days to actually rest rather than exert all their energy in practice and lose it all when the game arrives.

"oi, kageyama!"

to his surprise, he looks at the doors and sees hinata's bright tangerine hair illuminating the room. kageyama didn't expect that his rival stood at the doors of his team's gym, let alone see him in casual clothes rather than the ones he wore when he played.

"what are you doing here?" he snickers, catching the ball he had previously set before the interruption. "this isn't your team, dumbass."

"i know that," hinata snarls. "come join us! our teams are gonna go out and have some drinks."

"what for?"

"to celebrate our victory."

kageyama groans. "boastful dumbass."

"do you have any other word in your vocabulary other than 'dumbass'?"

"yes," he throws the ball and shoots it to the cart of other balls, picking up the waterbottles aligned. "idiot."

hinata charges at him.

his small albeit heavy body topples kageyama to the ground, his back hitting the floor and the bottles thrown astray from the impact. kageyama groans and pushes him off when hinata's knee presses accidentally on his stomach.

"get off me, you tiny dumba– idiot!"

a couple minutes of rowdiness created by the pair, and kageyama finds himself stepping foot into a small party surrounded by people he has grown up with– those who taught him how to be better, to be a good sport, how to win.

he was clad in a blue simple shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed by his friends who wore casual yet elegant clothing that suited their personalities best. he approaches atsumu first, the blonde twin smiling brightly at the sight of kageyama nearing with his hands in his pockets.

"tobio-chan!" he exclaims, an arm extended to wrap around kageyama's shoulders. "take it you were practicing again, huh?"

"yes," he answers, taking the beer bokuto enthusiastically offers him. "i don't want to waste my free time not practicing."

"you spend so much time improving yet you remain mediocre at best," tsukishima snickers, taking a light sip of his beer. "at ease, your majesty."

"i'm 21!" hinata pleads, showing the bartender three valid ids. "i'm of age! i'm allowed to drink! atsumu, please tell him i'm of age."

"give him something to drink," atsumu smiles. "it's past his bed time so he's talking nonsense. give him apple juice and he'll think it's beer."

"atsumu-chan!"

kageyama hollers, the warm liquid inside the beer bottle sloshing from his jovial movements. it all feels nostalgic– he feels as if he's back at training camp, except with the presence of atsumu and sakusa, whom he had met at the all youth training; with the addition of ushijima and oikawa's presence.

everyone was here– those he had considered rivals at the opposite ends of the gymnasium, now sharing laughs and stories like they had all been best friends since the beginning of volleyball's existence.

divided by talents and hard work, united by volleyball.

and he was there for hours, talking about nothing but volleyball, except the occasional school talks. kageyama's body unwinds at the familiar environment, the alcohol in his system temporarily taking over his usual tense demeanor.

kageyama was in the middle of ordering another drink when he sees you.

his chest fumes.

you're a seat apart from him, elbows on the counter, dress tight around your body. the scarlet hues of your attire reflecting beautifully underneath the dim lights of the bar. your hair hangs loosely over your shoulders, and suddenly you looked entirely different from the woman he sees on the court– sweaty and tired, bare faced, hair up in a ponytail, agitated yet pumped up with adrenaline at the same time.

your red lips leave a stain on the rocks glass. kageyama clears his throat.

your head darts to his direction. and your eyebrows shoot up in amusement. "kageyama tobio. what a nice surprise."

"nice to see you're dressed like a girl." kageyama puts his elbow on the counter, a strand of hair touching the space above his left eyebrow. your chin tilts up at his backhanded compliment.

"nice to see you have your head out of your ass."

"it happens once in a while." he shrugs, placing the rim of the beer on his lips. you mirror him, sipping on what he assumes to be whiskey. it leaves him impressed. "you're a hard drinker."

"you drink like you're a teenager." you snort. "beer, really? you're at a classy bar and you're drinking beer?"

he cocks his head behind him to show his tipsy friends, cheeks reddened from the alcohol that is taking over their senses little by little. "it's what they offered me."

"you're here to celebrate the black jackals' victory, right?" you spin on your seat, fully facing him. your legs cross and your heel bounces on your bare leg, leg jerking. your nail traces the lips of your glass. "did it hurt your tiny little ego, tobio-chan?"

"i want to hurt your little ego."

"seems like i just hurt it again."

"(y/n)!" kuroo booms behind kageyama, his arms spread to approach you into a hug. you accept it, wrapping your arms around his buff figure, your head in the middle of his chest. kageyama clutches his bottle tightly. "nice to see you here."

"victories should be celebrated," you smile up at him.

kageyama remembers the recent victory of your team in the women's division, ranking second. you were their wing spiker, the main source of the team's consecutive scoring; albeit you weren't their ace, so that fact was enough to lighten his spirits.

"oh! congratulations then, pretty girl," kuroo combs your hair and kisses your cheek. this bond that he sees remains to leave his queries unanswered– he doesn't know when and how you became close wth kuroo, but he knows damn well it didn't happen during high school.

kuroo's lips on your cheek, the smile on your face, the innocence, the close friendship. something pokes on kageyama's brain, and his eye twitches.

"thanks, kuroo."

he walks away and leaves the two of you again. your body rotates to face the counter fully, letting kageyama stare at the sides of your body. he huffs. "where's your team?"

"over there," you cock your head to the side. his eyes follow the crowd of girls laughing somewhat drunkenly, talking loudly about the recent events of your match. "left them alone 'cause i needed another drink."

"okay," is all he says. it's all he ever really says to every person. though the silence that follows is comfortable to him, because kageyama was never really a talker unless it was triggered by anger (thus, he only ever really yelled at hinata, which makes up the most of his loud moments).

you didn't seem to mind the silence, either. you twist your wrist to see the ice cubes rock against one another in your drink, lips pursed, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek. when you bring your glass up to your crimson lips, kageyama speaks again—

"do you wanna get out of here and play with me?"

you almost choke on your drink, eyes widening as you slowly spin to face him. he sees a slight disturbance in your eyes to which he can't figure out the reason why. "what?"

"you know, like, play volleyball with me?"

"oh," you laugh. "we're here at the bar for a reason, tobio-chan. we can't always play volleyball for every second of every day."

kageyama scoffs. "lame."

"excuse me?"

"LAME," he says loudly.

you seethe, eyes narrowing. you slam your glass on the counter, a light rattling sound emitting. you grab your purse that was on your lap tightly, hopping down the seat.

"me? lame? guess which one of us won." you poke your tongue at him. "i'll show you who's lame, loser. calling me lame. who the fuck are you calling lame?!"

you mutter the last sentences, though kageyama laughs behind you as you trail away from him and towards your teammates, bidding your goodbye. their drunken states barely brought the thought of questioning into their minds as they mindlessly let you go.

kageyama, on the other hand, seemed to find difficulty into making the situation innocent— bringing a girl home you met at the bar wasn't a situation that lacked innuendo.

"kageyama, you're bringing a girl home?" hinata pips in surprise. "is- is that (y/n)? you're going to bring her home?!"

"i won't bring her home, dumbass." he snarls. "we're just– gonna toss balls at each other."

"what kind of foreplay are you into?" atsumu snorts. "you're supposed to let her touch your balls."

kageyama shivers. "that's disturbing."

"oi, asshole," you throw your coat on you, easily slipping your arms into each sleeve. kageyama thinks the coat you're wearing was something you grabbed last minute; it did nothing to contrast nor match your dress. it makes him raise a brow. "ready to go?"

"yes," he takes his coat from one of the couches his team sits on. he claps ushijima's back to nods in acknowledgement, ignoring the teasing hollers of his tipsy friends. you blow a kiss to kuroo that sticks a stem of thorns on kageyama's eyes.

🏐 —

the cold never seemed to leave japan no matter the weather. despite this, you're both still comfortable enough in your thick coats that covered your thin clothing.

the snowflakes fall on your hair, melting tiny wet spots at your scalp. there are some that fall on your eyelashes, at the tip of your nose, but it's nothing to you now.

you didn't expect kageyama to bring you at an alleyway beside the bar. you didn't expect that this is what you would be doing at an alleyway. the fact that kageyama had a ball in his car was expected, but it was something you found endearing nonetheless.

your instincts allowed your wrists to seamlessly catch the ball kageyama tosses to you.

"you know, i'd expect that you'd bring a girl back to your apartment, share stories, maybe give her a kiss or two–" kageyama begins to blush, "–but i also don't know why you bringing a girl out to play volleyball does not surprise me."

"just like i always tell you– i don't like spending my time on things that won't improve my skills."

"take it easy, dude," you catch the ball with your hands, keeping it between your palms. "at this rate, you're going to die a virgin."

"who says i'm a virgin?"

"i see you almost piss yourself when you talk to a girl," you snort, tossing the ball back to him.

"i don't piss myself when i talk to you."

"well, thank god you don't." kageyama sneers. "you'll make yourself look even more like a loser. loser of all losers."

the sneer on his face softens just a tiny bit, which is caused by the way you smile at how you had to bend your knees to receive his petty toss.

his heart mimics skipping stones at a quiet lake.

"'m not a loser," he huffs. "dumbass."

you catch the ball between your hands and hurl it at him. "don't call me a dumbass!"

kageyama ducks, yelping loudly. when he returns to his usual stance, he offers you a threatening glare that makes you spin on your heels and bolt, exiting the alleyway. he yells for you, following suit, almost slipping on his shoes from the melted ice on the cemented ground.

your laugh echoes in the midnight streets of tokyo, roads idle and buildings closed. the sound of your heels meeting the cobblestone ground taps his ears like a rhythm, your giggles akin to melodies of a harp. kageyama barely spares a pant, his feet almost catching up to you.

your hair blows past your face, your coat floating in the air; and the wind leaves cold kisses on his face, getting inside his nose that makes it turn red, his sinuses hurting from the crisp impact. he yells your name and you flip him off.

perhaps it was the beer in his system that makes him woozy, the glow of the streetlights becoming blurry. maybe it was because of the sudden whiplash he faces when you duck and he accidentally topples over your bending body, landing on his back on a loud thump.

your laugh scratches his ears irritatingly.

"do you see what i mean?" you bend, placing your hands on your knees. "take it easy. you're too in the moment that you end up hurting yourself."

the pain trembles on his spine, his hair damp on his forehead. he glares at you, his breath evident as it leaves his panting mouth. you offer your hand and he takes it. "don't tell me how to function."

"alright man," you drop his hand, and kageyama falls to the ground again as you raise your hands in mock defeat. "just a friend looking out for you."

kageyama groans, standing up and dusting his pants off. "you're not my friend,"

there's barely any hurt that flashes your eyes; you know he's joking. "ouchie, tobio-chan." you pout, hands clutching each other over your heart. "you really do know how to hurt a girl."

he huffs, like a petulant child. "let's go back to the bar."

you don't realize how far you've gotten away when you begin to walk, your elbows brushing against his, hands warming inside your coat's pockets. kageyama was no longer scowling, his lips pressed into a flat line and staring right ahead.

to your surprise, he asks: "how do you– function without playing volleyball?"

you feel yourself calm down, body relaxing at the warmth kageyama radiates. you look up at him. "there's more to life than volleyball, 'd you know that?" you start softly. "there's nothing wrong with playing a sport for the rest of your life, but i'm just longing for this sense of accomplishment that's different from what i feel when i win a match."

kageyama stares blankly at you, though you could see the gears spinning slowly behind his eyes. "you... you want to be more accomplished?"

"yeah." you let out a sigh. there's hesitance when you open your mouth, like you're unsure if kageyama is the person you should be telling it to.

he hopes you tell him.

that sense of accomplishment— he doesn't know what you're talking about. he's only ever known the elation of winning a match, the confidence that he gains knowing everyone else was also relying on his decisions, realizing that each choice he made brought his team to success. that feeling was addicting, like a drug, something that he chased over and over again.

the feeling of winning in volleyball was all he ever knew. but now—

now he wonders if maybe that feeling was something that's not permanent; that maybe he should be looking for more than just that rush. he wants to know what you're thinking and see what he's missing in his life.

"it's why..." you blink, eyelashes grazing your cheeks as you do so. the gloss over your lips has matted from the cold air, bottom lip getting lost between your teeth. you let out a shaky, nervous sigh. "i'm quitting volleyball."

kageyama snaps his head to you. "what?!"

"yeah," you laugh nervously, shoulders raising. "i've been playing volleyball since i was middle school, tobio. i'm 21, i think it's time to start something new."

his eyebrows furrow. "okay... w-why?"

"kageyama," you say softly. "we can't always live on the rush we get everytime the whistle blows and we've won. there's always more than just tossing balls in a match."

he's a little slow. "uhuh..."

you laugh tiredly. "what i'm trying to say is that volleyball isn't the only battle we have in our life. and i want to win those other battles." you say, then add: "you know, in an analogical kind of way."

"okay." he says. "i get it." just a little.

"which is why tomorrow, i'm officially retired. we're not only just celebrating our victory, y'know," there's a small skip in your step, and when you sniffle, it's a little blocked. "it's kind of like a... what do you call it? going away party? no, that's not right..."

kageyama tunes out the rest of your loud pondering. despite finding you the most irritating being in existence, he feels the slightest bit of dejection at your departure. and he thinks he may lose you the minute you step out– that he'd no longer get to talk to you, practice with you outside of his team;

that after all the years he's known you, he's afraid you're turning your back on something you've both bonded on.

"work with me," he steps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. you give him an incredulous frown.

"what?"

"be my personal trainer then."

"kageyama, i didn't quit volleyball just so i could work in something related to volleyball. i'm trying to swerve from the sport, y'know?"

"you're not going to train me volleyball." he shakes his head, his hair falling to his sides, ending just above his ears. "you're just... going to help me... be interested in something other than volleyball?"

"so you want me to take up a job where i'm like your concerned mother who wants you to have a life, is that it?"

"n-no! fuck's sake..." you raise your brow at him. "i'm saying that... that you will be like- my- um- personal... assistant?"

"fuck no," you guffaw. "you're ridiculous! are you even going to pay me?"

he stiffens. "i... i'll have to ask m-management for that."

"geez, tobio," you look to the side, baffled by his abrupt conditions. "you know i could just help you find other hobbies as your... acquaintance, right? i don't need to have an official position for you or anything.

he flinches at the word acquaintance.

"besides... why me?"

"because..." he breathes out, like he's been holding his breath for a long time. "i've known you since high school and... you're the only one i'm not shy to look embarrassing to."

your face softens, eyebrows raising. your hand comes out of your pocket and places itself on his bicep. his blush is overpowered by the cold's brutal nipping.

"i can't help you, tobio," you tell him, your lips turning into a flipped smile of empathy. his shoulders slump. "see you around."

you walk past him, and he turns his head to watch you walk away. kageyama thinks he's seen this before, that bite in his heart from seeing your back to him because of something kageyama has stupidly caused. it's all too familiar.

a little too painful.

and he's scared to lose you again.

🏐 —

his phone dings at 4:30am.

you. Am i going to be paid? 4:30am

the sleep on his eyes are flickered away from his sudden energy. kageyama sits up and props himself against his bed frame, clumsily holding his phone between his calloused fingers.

kageyama. like i said, i'll have to ask management. why the sudden question? 4:31am

the gray bubbles on your side appear and disappear for what seems to be five excruciating times. his heart pounds rapidly, fingers trembling.

you. Realized I can't get a good job immediately, lol. This could be a good starter. I'm sacrificing all the ego I've built over the years just so I could work for you. 4:33am

kageyama. WITH me. 4:33am

you. Okay. 4:33am

there's a pause. he doesn't close his phone yet because he knows you're staring at your phone just like he is.

he likes it when he's correct too.

you. Please text me immediately when you've asked your management. Look forward to working WITH you. 4:34am

there's a sense of hope fluttering in him.

suddenly there's a path opening from the cycle he's been running on since his youth. he brazenly follows it.

this is a series haha i won't be telling you how they already know each other u guys just have to wait for the next part

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu fluff #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n #kageyama fluff #kageyama angst #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio x reader

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kcrossvine-art · 1 year ago

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Heya folks! Its been a bit, food insecurity is a bitch, but today on the quest of cooking our way through Lord of the Rings we're gonna be making a dish exclusively mentioned in the 2007 MMO-

We will be making a Rohan Pasty!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Rohans Pasty?” YOU MIGHT ASKBasics. Meat n potatoes of your meat-in-dough food. .

All-purpose flour

Salt

Baking powder

Vegetable oil

Olive oil

Ground beef

Garlic salt

Ground cumin

Chili powder

Dried oregano

Waxy potato

Garlic

White onion

Egg

"A delicious local pastry filled with beef and potatoes."- LOTRO Rohan is a kingdom of humans in middle-earth, and the description point towards a cornish pasty (yes, pasty not pastry). Oddly enough the image is more of an empanada but you win some you lose some. This heritage informs much of the shape and ingredients of this dish, however we're opting to cook most of the ingredients before adding them in, contrary to going in raw as a cornish pasty calls for. I chose to deviate here because cooking beforehand allows more seasoning to be crammed in. The english hate seasoning.

AND, “what does a Rohans Pasty taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Tastes like the best pot pie youve had, less soggy

Excellent for an after-rugby/martial arts/soccer dinner

The potatoes are foundational

Despite needing the least work

Pasta salad (cucumber, olives, pepperocini) would pair well as a side

And would also pair well with beer

This meal bears the gold star sticker of not having any major issues! Hooray! Maybe its increased comfortability in the kitchen, or maybe its because of how very simple this one is. Chopped roasted bell pepper might be good in the filling in the future.

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Get the dough ready ahead of time- its mentioned in the recipe below but i also wanted to say a foreword here that it needs to sit in the fridge for a few hours. Just so ya dont get everything out and realise itd take too long for dinner tonight. Speaking of dough, i feel like it could have more flavor added to it. Its bland and although its not part of the tradition of the meal its based off of, cornish meat pasty, it might be nice to add some spices like cumin or black pepper to the flour.

The meal reheats perfect- wrap in papertowl and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds per pasty.

When picking your potatoes make sure theyre "new" potatoes (baby ones) or whichever potato with the least amount of starch you can get. Its important for it to cook inside the pasty that it not have too much lest it get Mushy Bad.

Another thing about its real-life inspo; Cornish pastys were workers food, stuff you could carry into the mines, stuff thatd reheat well. You could hold the crust with your dirty hands and throw it away once you ate the rest. I always feel partial to these foods. Although I'd still eat the dirty crust.

This recipe earns a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Dough Ingredients:

370g all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

74g vegetable oil

240g warm water

Filling Ingredients:

2 tablespoons(ish) olive oil

1 pound ground beef

2 tablespoons tomato paste

Garlic salt to taste

Ground cumin to taste

Chili powder to taste

Dried oregano to taste

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 white onion, diced

Method:

Combine flour, salt and baking powder.

Add oil and water into mixer with dough hook running at medium speed. Mix for 1 minute, stopping several times to scrape the sides of the bowl.

When mixture comes together and begins to form a ball, decrease mixing speed to low. Continue to mix just until dough is smooth.

Take the dough ball, safely wrap it, and transfer to fridge. Let sit for at minimum 2 hours.

For the meat, get a large skillet, and add some olive oil over medium heat. Add the ground beef and garlic salt, cook until the beef is cooked completely.

Drain the beef and set aside.

In the same pan, add the garlic, onions, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt.

Cook until the onions are softened but not brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Re-add the beef and cook over low heat for about 5 more minutes.

Back to the dough, transfer dough from fridge to well-floured work surface. Roll into log and divide into 10 equal portions.

Preheat oven to 350f.

Form each piece into a ball and flatten each with a rolling pin.

Add a layer of diced potatos down the middle of the pastys. Add the meat filling to each. Fold the sides of the dough up to seal on top in the middle.

Gently turn the pasty on its side and crimp the edge, alternating a braid pattern. Use knife to cut an "X" shaped slit in the top. Repeat for each pasty.

Place the pastys on a greased baking sheet. Lightly coat each pasty with an eggwash using a basting brush.

Cook for about 50 minutes, or until golden brown, and let cool!

#cross cooks lotr #lotro #the hobbit #lord of the rings #food recipe

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catnipaddictt · 8 months ago

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I like you

dbf!anakin skywalker x gn!reader

synopsis: Your dad's best friend comes round for dinner leading to some unspoken feelings being revealed

wc: 1.4k

tw: fluff, inappropriate age gap, kissing

comment: once again no beta reader so watch out for mistakes, this one goes out to @memoiich <3

The smell of your dad's cooking filled the house as you made your way down the stairs from your room. From the extra pair of work boots at the entrance way you knew he was here. Entering the kitchen you see the ‘feast’ your father had placed on the kitchen countertop. Golden roast potatoes, tender meat, and colourful greens combined together for a symphony of smell. Your mouth watered just think about it. But it was nothing compared to when he walked inside.

His golden curls fell around his face like a halo, making his blue eyes stand out. With him he brought the smell of cigarettes and car oil, something you were used to by now. Something you sought comfort in. You have known Anakin Skywalker for a number of years now. He and your father had been friends ever since you two had moved towns. After your parents divorce you and your father had packed up and left that life behind. A fresh start.

That was 3 or so years ago now and you two haven't looked back since. You met Anakin in your last year of highschool and that's when your silly crush began. It started off when he began coming around more often for a drink. Which then turned into a weekly event. And then dinners. You definitely weren't complaining though.

Saying Anakin was gorgeous would be an insult to him. He was perfect in your eyes. If only you were born early. Anakin, now in his 40s, had no business running around with someone as young as you. So you kept admiring yourself and the dairy you hid in your dresser.

He smiles upon seeing you “hey princess”. That nickname, one of the many he gave you, made you internally kick yourself. “oh hi Ani” you grab yourself a glass of ice cold water, feeling his eyes follow you. “Going to come join me and your old man?” He questions to which you nod, “wouldn't miss it.” You grab yourself a plate and serve yourself some food before waiting for him to grab another beer for himself. He follows you out the old sliding door onto the concrete patio.

Plastic chairs sit around a circular wooden table, the side facing the wall occupied by your father. He greets you with a bright smile, making you feel guilty for harboring feelings for his friend. You pull out a chair against the side of the house before seating yourself in it comfortably. Anakin sits in the chair next to you. Placing your glass on the table, you half listen into the conversation happening between the two men. Something about Anakin's work as a mechanic. You hear your name being said, and feel Anakin tapping your leg under the table.

“Not boring you to sleep are we?” he jokes, to which your father lets out a gruff laugh. “Of course not” you smile brightly at them before turning you attention to your father, “what were you saying?”

“Anakin was just asking about your classes.” You turn to him before replying; “same old really, too much useless paperwork, not enough practical learning.” You had been attending the community college nearby for a fine arts course - something you had always wanted to do. Which also explained while you were living at home at the moment. “You should come by the garage for lunch someday, it's only a block or two away” Anakin speaks, “might be able to teach you a thing or two.” You roll your eyes playfully, “and get covered in grease? Yeah, no thanks.”

Anakin fakes offensive before laughing it off. You continue eating your meal while your father starts talking about engines or something you don't completely understand. You try to focus on the conversation, but find it hard with Anakin right next to you. You can basically feel his laughter roll off him. You tell yourself off for thinking this way before getting up to put your plate in the dishwasher inside. Which is good timing as your father's work phone begins to ring loudly. He mouths a sorry before taking the call.

“I'll come help you kid” Anakin says as he gets up and follows you inside. You place your dishes in the washer before turning around to meet Anakin's gaze. You look away quickly, moving to dash off to your room. But you are quickly stopped by Anakin's hand wrapping around your wrist. “Where are you running off to sweetheart?” He laughs and you turn a shade of red that you didn't think was possible. “Sorry” you blurt out quickly. “Something is wrong, you acting off today” he states, not as a question. “It's just class, I'm stressed” you try to play it off. “Okay, want to show me your work, I'm not artist, but I'm sure I could at least try to help.”

You nod and move your head in the direction of the stairs which lead to your room. You begin to regret your decision when you reach your door. If he doesn't think of you as a child now, he was surely about to. Opening the door to your room you are greeted by posters of singers and objects that hold too much sentimental value for you to get rid of. Your CD player makes music fill the room, you must have forgotten to turn it off before going to eat.

He moves inside your room, looking at the walls. Even though you had known him for years, he had never been in this room, your sanctuary. He speaks before you do; “I know this artist” he mentions towards your CD player. “You know this?” You question. “I may be old but i'm not that old” he takes a moment before adding “and your dad mentioned you listened to them so I may have listened to a few albums” he shrugs. You let out a snort “I can't imagine you listening to this kind of music.'' He lets out a soft laugh before you hand him the piece you had been working in for school.

He takes a few seconds before he says “this is incredible, I knew you were good, but not this good” he looks at you as he compliments your work. “Oh thanks” is all you manage to reply. “Do you have any more I can see?” “Sure” you turn around to rummage through the pile of half done works on your desk. When you run around you almost jump out of your skin.

Anakin holds a small book in his hands. Your diary to be exact. You must have forgotten to put it back in its hiding spot. You try to take it from his hands but he doesn't let you. “Anakin please.” You beg him to give it up and back into your rightful hands.

After a few moments he places the book down on your bed gently before making eye contact with you. You immediately look away, embarrassed. Anakin either just read about a normal day or knows about your silly little schoolgirl crush on him. Guessing by his next action you guess the second option.

He takes your face between his large rough hands, tough from years of work. You can smell his cologne as he moves his thumb against your cheek gently, like you might break. “Oh sweetheart” he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I guessed but couldn't know for sure, '' he continued. “Your dad would kill me if he knew how I felt about his precious daughter” you blink at him confused. He seems to think for a split second before speaking; “fuck it, I like you” breath, “and I know I shouldn't” he acts before you can think. Leaning down and pulling you toward him, placing his lips on yours.

You swear you feel fireworks erupt in your gut as he kisses you. You pull apart, breathing heavily. Anakin gives your hip a squeeze, “I should go before your dad starts to wonder.” Normally the mention of your father would cause feelings of guilt but you are still starstruck. Your only reply is a nod before he removes his hands from you. “Hey come by the garage tomorrow, okay?” Another nod from you. He moves to the door, shooting you a winning smile before he is gone.

You can't tell if that was the best or worst thing to happen to you. If one Thing was certain, Anakin Skywalker would not be leaving your mind anytime soon.

#star wars #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #revenge of the sith #the clone wars #dbf!anakin

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lonelyharmonies · 1 year ago

Text

all is fair in love and war

when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.

pairing: haechan x fem reader genre: fluff; college!au; (sort of) coworkers! warnings: suggestive; cursing; and i think that’s it. word count: ~19k a/n.: another repost <3 i love this one very much

"How's the job search?" your roommate asks while putting her earrings on.

Another week of failed attempts of looking for an internship, you think. Maybe you weren’t in your right mind when you decided to quit your job of 2 years at the campu’s café, but it was time for you to start looking for jobs related to your field of study. You want to become a journalist, you need real experience! Did you quit after impulsively screaming at your annoying boss because you were fed up with his rudeness? Yes, but you were unhappy and senior year is getting closer by the minute, you have no time to waste. At first, your parents and friends supported you, but after almost two months of unemployment, you were starting to question your own decision.

"Nothing yet." you mumble, playing a game on your phone.

"Have you thought about what Renjun said?" she turns her head to look at you expectantly.

"We've already discussed this," you sigh and she turns her head back to the mirror in front of her. "If it was only for the money, I could just go back to 7Dream,” you stubbornly answer.

“And you think they’ll take you back?” your roommate raises an eyebrow at you “I know it’s not the best choice, but listen to Renjun this time. At least it would be something.”

Huang Renjun, your roommate’s boyfriend, is a fairly rich art major and, in your eyes, a very sophisticated person. At least one of the most sophisticated people you know. The only one, actually. But as he comes from such an influential family, you thought he would be able to find you a job at a good newspaper or a famous magazine. You had to ask him for a job recommendation because, hell, if you’re friends with a nepo baby, take advantage of them.

Needless to say you were not expecting to be offered a part-time position at a beaten-up theme park in the city. You obviously declined, being too stubborn to go from one underpaid job that made you miserable to another.

You did accept, however, the invitation to his friend's birthday party. Free food, free alcohol and some socializing, you couldn’t say no to that. That’s how you end up in an overcrowded apartment in the downtown area of the city to celebrate the birthday of Renjun’s friend that you have never seen before.

As soon as you got there, you were introduced to the birthday boy, Lee Jeno, before being ditched by your roommate and her boyfriend. Deciding that it was too awkward to just stand in the kitchen by yourself, you are left with no choice but to choose your drink: cheap vodka with cranberry juice or cheap canned beer? Hard choice.

Your eyes were scanning the alcoholic drinks shoved in the kitchen sink when you felt someone standing right next to you. You cursed silently, too tired to deal with drunk men flirting tonight. You decided to grab a beer and get out of the kitchen as fast as possible, when the person next to you spoke.

"These ones in the sink are always hotter than the ones in the fridge no matter how much ice they put in there," you turn your head to meet the person next to you, beer in your left hand. "If I were you, I wouldn't grab the drinks from there."

"So I should just stay thirsty?" you ask ironically, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you should grab a drink from the fridge," the brown haired boy smirks and goes straight to the kitchen's fridge.

He grabbed an expensive Japanese beer from inside and placed it on the counter between the both of you. Your eyebrow is raised and the boy still has a smirk on his lips. He motions his head towards the bottle, silently telling you to take it.

"How do I know you didn't spike this drink?"

"How do you know the one you just grabbed isn't spiked?" he challenges you, tilting his head to the side.

"Isn't it a little impolite of you to just open someone's fridge? Especially to grab an expensive drink to give to a stranger?" The beer is long forgotten when you cross your arms and see the boy moving one step closer to you.

"If the stranger is cute it’s fine," he shrugs and you raise an eyebrow, clearly not falling for his attempts at flirting. "Plus, I bought these,” he points at the bottle he put on the counter “And the birthday boy is my best friend and roommate."

Oh, boy, he was bold and you didn’t even need to wonder why: if you looked that hot only in a pair of jeans and a simple Adidas shirt, you would be brazen too.

"Hm, I believe you," you puckered your lips and looked around the kitchen as if uninterested.

"I'm serious, we've known each other since we were little, I’ve seen Jeno butt naked thousands of times," he blurted out and you stifled your laugh.

"That's…" you can't really find the words to answer whatever that information meant. “I…I have no words.”

"What? We barely talked and I'm already leaving you speechless?" he got one step closer and you had resist the urge to move away. "Damn, I didn't know I was this good."

"You think you're smooth, but you were just spilling nonsense," you uncrossed your arms and moved to hold the cold bottle of beer he got for you.

"And yet you're still here listening," he moved one step closer, and this time you could even see the small moles spread across his face and neck.

"I find you really, really annoying," the smile on your face contrasted with the words leaving your lips.

"I get that a lot." He chuckled and you moved a little bit closer and felt him holding his breath.

"Yeah. We need to do something to shut your mouth for a bit, don’t we?" you were looking straight at his lips and he didn't waste much time, kissing you right after.

You find yourself in a very complicated situation the following day when the alcohol wears off of your system and it seems like you remember every little detail of that party, except the name of the boy who kissed you all night long.

You don’t really have much time to dwell on the boy’s name because you find yourself getting more desperate thanks to your financial situation, so all Renjun had to do was mention the job one more time.

“The Lee family is very influential in the entertainment business, you know? I’m sure they will transform that place in no time.” He said one night.

“I bet,” you answered uninterested, eating the soup your roommate had made you.

“It’s a way of having some income while looking for internships,” he reasoned “you can always quit when you find something better.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you sigh defeated “What number should I call?”

Fast forward to three months later: you are working in the job you’ve sworn you wouldn’t take.

That’s the story of how you became a ride operator at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation last April. It is a very big name for a park that small, though, you have to admit. The Funfair is just as nonsensical as the name, but it’s not the most unpleasant workplace. Plus, you found out it’s a very traditional theme park in the area, the neighbors say it has been around since the 70s (considering how old everything looks, you don’t doubt it). It is like the city’s Disneyland, just dirtier. And smaller. And uglier. And unsafer. But it’s just like the city’s Disneyland. I mean, there’s even a mascot: the brown bear named Sunny who seemed to be fairly popular among children.

"How do these kids seem to like Sunny so much? He’s creepy,” you think out loud chewing the jelly Jisung just gave you.

“He’s like our Mickey Mouse,” Jisung turns his head to look at the bear as well.

“But Mickey is not that creepy.”

“Have you seen him in the 50’s? Girl…”

"Who are you talking about?" Yuta, one of the managers, creeps behind you and your friend.

"Hyung, that’s not cool!” Jisung jumps as he gets startled by Yuta’s sudden presence and you can’t help smiling at how much of a scaredy-cat he is.

“Mickey Mouse” you say, stealing another Jelly from Jisung. “Who do you think is creepier, Mickey or Sunny?”

In the beginning you were still very reluctant to accept that it was a good idea to take up Renjun’s offer (and your only choice). But the thing is that you need the money and the job is so much easier than working at the café, considering the Funfair is slow basically every single day. So, you adapted to the Funfair in no time and, slowly, started to see how fun it can be to work in a place like that. You have to admit that the job in itself is usually boring, but the people here are the highlight of it all.

“Sunny’s not that creepy,” Jisung says, making you scoff.

“No, it’s just an old ass costume of an ugly bear wearing a blue overall. Why do kids like it?” You say looking at the semicircle of children cornering the bear near the merry-go-round.

“Who’s Mickey Mouse, though?” Yuta asks you and Jisung.

“Are you kidding me? The Disney rat, hyung,” Jisung looks mildly offended at Yuta’s question.

“He’s not a rat, he’s a mouse. It’s literally his name,” you say, faking interest just to steal one more jelly from Jisung’s bag of candy.

“Never heard of this Mickey guy,” Yuta says with a poker face and you snicker.

"You don't know… Mickey Mouse?" You think Jisung’s face is priceless. Oh, the ever so sweet and gullible Park Jisung.

"Where is he from?'' he asks again, leaving Jisung even more confused.

“Hm… Hollywood? I don’t know where he’s from,” Jisung fishes for his phone and you are sure he is about to google ‘where is mickey mouse from’.

“Oh, I’m from Osaka. That’s probably why we never met.” Yuta finishes talking and walks away, leaving a bewildered Jisung behind.

“I don’t know what to do with this information,” you start feeling bad for him, the boy just looks utterly confused. “He’s joking right? They do have Mickey Mouse in Japan, right?”

“Yes, Jisung he is joking,” you pat his shoulder, but he seems hesitant. “He’s messing with you because you're literally the only one that still believes in any absurdity that comes out of Yuta’s mouth.”

“It makes me kinda relieved, I'm not gonna lie,” he sighs and you just chuckle. Why are your coworkers so dramatic? “I mean, it’s Mickey Mouse. Everybody likes Mickey Mouse."

“I don’t know about that…” your eyes go back to the weird bear as he starts moving around, now having Taeyong as a bodyguard to protect him from the kids jumping at him. "Wait, I think this is the first time I see someone actually dressing up as Sunny. Is it a new thing now?”

"I don't know, it's my first time seeing it too," Jisung frowns "Should I ask Mina?" you shrug. It didn't really matter, it's just that, working in such an uneventful workplace, anything could be something.

"I think you should start running if you don't want Doyoung beating your ass up," you say leaning on the railing of the bumper cars.

Jisung turns to look at his back and sees an angry Doyoung coming for him. "Shit."

"PARK JISUNG, DON'T EVEN TRY TO RUN."

"Serves you right for purposely shutting down the merry-go-round."

"If you had to stay there, you would understand the stress I go through," he says, handing you his bag of candy and running away from Doyoung.

So much for an uneventful workplace.

After you started working at the theme park, you had less time for parties and pubs and even dates. It was hard to fit in any social interaction in your now tight schedule: your shifts were usually 4 to 10 p.m on weekdays and 6 to 12 a.m on weekends. You never had time to go out to drink with your friends, unless they agreed to go clubbing on Monday. Damn, you didn’t want to go to a club on Monday, you had morning classes.

Juggling your job, your degree and your social life was not easy, and you started realizing that you couldn’t catch up with some of your friends and, eventually, they just stopped inviting you to hang out. Inevitably, you have to start hanging out with your coworkers and that leads you to Jisung’s dorm, a round of cheap beer, spicy snacks and a game of truth or dare in the crack of dawn on a Saturday. You, Jisung, Chenle, Yeri and Mina were all sitting in a circle looking at the bottle that was about to stop.

Bottom asks, top answers.

“Truth or dare, Mina?” Chenle asks mischievously and she whines.

“I don’t want Chenle!!! Please, someone else ask me”

“He got the bottom of the bottle, though,” Jisung smiles apologetically.

“Okay, truth.”

“Is it true that in middle school you had a crush on Jis-”

“DARE!!!! I WANT DARE!” she stands up on her knees, profusely shaking her arms so Chenle would stop talking.

Funfair might not be too amusing for the customers, but the whole workplace drama is absolutely entertaining to you. Yeri’s family owns the property where the theme park is located, so she (forcefully) works there to help her cousin Taeyong run the place (though she rarely does any actual work). There is an ongoing rumor that, since last year, she was in a love triangle with Taeyong’s accountant, Suh Johnny, and a mysterious guy named Lee. No one knows exactly who the Lee guy is and what happened between them. Chenle says he’s not brave enough to ask, but he thinks “Lee” is the last name of the guy, which also makes it weird because it could be another one of Taeyong’s relatives.

Taeyong is the sweet boss in charge of all of us, including the managers Yuta and Doyoung, although there has always been a suspicion that the latter is his (boy)friend.

Chenle, Jisung and Mina are freshmen that have been friends since elementary school and decided to work together at Funfair because it was their go-to spot to skip classes ever since they were little. You’re sure they chose the park, though, because they wouldn't be allowed to work together in any other environment, they are all just a bunch of kids. Chenle is that outgoing and kind person yet a menace, especially when it comes to Mina, Jisung and their painfully obvious crush on each other.

After some hair pulling (Mina got really angry after Chenle tried to make her confess to Jisung) and the last rounds of truth or dare, everyone starts to get sleepy.

“Alright, guys, I think it’s time to go home…” you stand up, but Mina holds your arm to stop you.

“Wait, before we all go, did you guys know about the new part-timer that got hired?” Chenle perks up and Jisung lifts his body from where is laying on the ground to look at Mina.

“What guy?”

“Another part-timer? I thought Taeyong was on a budget considering how slow the business has been since… forever,” you say truthfully and Chenle’s eyes widen .

“Do you think the Funfair is some sort of money laundering scheme?”

“I don’t think Taeyong would be driving that old ass car if he had a choice,” Jisung says, and you gasp.

“That’s mean, he’s always giving you rides!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Yeri asks, coming back from the bathroom “New part-timer? Oh, you’re talking about Donghyuck.”

You frown, feeling that you know that name, and yet can’t give a face to that name. Do you know anyone named Donghyuck?

“Do you know him?!” Mina exclaims a little too excited for Jisung’s liking, who scoffs.

“Yeah, I asked Taeyong if we could hire him,” she says sheepishly and you and Chenle exchange confused looks “What about him, though?”

“I was just curious,” Mina answers. “I saw this cute boy two days ago near the breakroom and he said ‘hi, I’m the new guy Donghyuck’ and then, never again.”

“Why are you so curious? Do you wanna see him that bad?” Jisung asks, clearly bothered and the three of you roll your eyes at the sight of a blushing Mina.

“It’s not like that…” she scratches her head “It’s just that I never saw him again. Where is he even working?”

“I think Taeyong put him in the ticket booth or something,” Yeri brushes the girl’s concern off and just grabs her bag.

“No way, I was in the popcorn stall near the entrance today and I haven’t seen him at all,” Mina affirms with wide eyes.

Yeri, tired of all of you and the workplace gossip, just brushes it off by shrugging and wishing everybody a goodnight before leaving Jisung’s dorm.

"What do you guys think of Sunny?" you suddenly ask and your friends make a confused face. "Sunny, the bear, guys."

"Creepy" Chenle says without second thoughts

"Not you again with the mascot rivalry. Be proud of our Mickey," Jisung points at you, making you roll your eyes.

"It's weird looking, but it's a very fun mascot," Mina says, drinking the remaining soju in Jisung's bottle.

"Not like that, guys." You apologize, starting to feel drowsy. "I should've worded it better."

"Are you already drunk?" Chenle scoffs and Mina motions to kick his legs.

"I meant,” you say louder, glaring at Chenle. “What if the new guy is Sunny?"

"It's plausible considering Mina hasn’t seen him again. Or any of us, really."

"Bear or not, I think he's Yeri's boyfriend." Jisung says as a matter of factly.

"His name is not Lee, though." Mina points out. "Plus, I'm team Johnny."

"You're all so nosy," you make a judging face at them, but giggle right after "I like it."

The four of you there stay there in Jisung's dorm for a couple more hours, conspiring about who was the new part-timer, what he was doing there and creating what had the potential to be the new hot gossip of Sunny's Funfair.

"I can't believe you're here again," you roll your eyes when you see Jisung standing next to the control panel for the bumper cars.

"Change places with me one day, that's all I ask!" he pleads and you turn away to pay attention to the cars that had just started to move around.

"Go to work, Jisung. I don't know why Taeyong hasn't fired you yet."

"Because he knows I'm a valuable addition to the team.” He fights back, making you scoff.

"Nah, it's probably because he has noticed that the high school girls keep coming back to flirt with you." You glare at him when you see him blushing. “Stop with this act, we all know you love it because it makes Mina jealous.”

“What’s with you today, woman?” he raises his hand defensively “I’m just keeping you company.”

“You should be at the merry-go-around. Working.”

“That’s why I always go to Mina,” he complains. “She always talks to me.”

“It’s because she doesn’t like working either,” you say harshly.

It’s Sunday and the park is fairly busier than usual, you think. Not enough to make children line up on the bumper cars, but busy enough to keep running it every three minutes. Suddenly, a stereotypical carnival music starts playing, startling both you and Jisung, who never really noticed there were speakers spread throughout the park. Then, you see Sunny happily walking around greeting small children and their parents.

“What the fuck is this?” you spit out and look at Jisung who has the same dumbfounded expression as you.

“Our Mickey Mouse is here,” Jisung laughs and you keep staring at the scene in front of you.

“I swear to god if they put this song in a loop I’ll k-”

“Where’s Mickey?” a little girl wearing a Disney t-shirt smiles at the both of you. “I like Mickey Mouse!"

“If you like Mickey so much, where is he from?” Jisung asks and you roll your eyes, going back to the control panel to see how much longer until this round is up.

“Well, I don’t know…” her smile falters and Jisung holds a finger up in the air while saying.

“Well, you can only ride the bumper cars if you know where Mickey Mouse is from-”

“But… I…” you see the girl’s eyes watering and you punch Jisung’s arm

“No, you don’t,” you say, giving him the stink eye. “But you do need to be old enough to ride it by yourself. How old are you?

“I just turned eight,” she smiles confidently with both hands on her hips.

“Sorry, sweetie, if you are under 12 you need adult supervision,” she deflates so fast that you almost feel bad for her.

“Can’t he go with me?” she points at Jisung and you scoff.

“He can barely supervise himself,” you smile at her. “Plus, there is no one else to ride the bumper cars, you would be all alone.”

The little girl tries to persuade you to let her go but you can’t. You could bend the rules a little and supervise her in the car, letting Jisung in the control panel, but you didn’t trust Jisung that much. Plus it wasn’t worth it getting in trouble because of a cute little girl. Eventually, you convince her to go talk to the creepy bear, saying he was friends with Mickey Mouse, and she runs to where he is standing.

“By the way, Mickey Mouse is from Mouseton in Calisota,” Jisung says looking at his phone and you groan.

After months working in the same place, with the same people, you are bound to get into a routine. Yours consisted of arriving at the Funfair around 3:50 pm, going to the break room, filling your water bottle, putting your backpack in locker 606 and putting your lunch box with some packed dinner in the fridge.

Any minor change in this calculated routine could mean something big.

That’s why you are surprised to arrive one day and see a black insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You were used to see Mina’s green tupperware, Chenle’s half-eaten subway and Yuta’s energy drinks inside the fridge. You were not used to see an insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You brushed it off as someone changing habits and bringing healthier food to work. It could even be Taeyong packing food for him and Doyoung.

You should have taken that more seriously, though, because the second change in your routine was much bigger and much more inconvenient than the lunch bag.

The next day, the lunch bag disappeared, but now, there was a backpack in your locker. It wasn’t that the locker is specifically yours per se, but there is a silent agreement of which locker belongs to whom. There are 9 lockers in total, Jisung and Mina’s are 607 and 604, the top left one and the one right under it. Chenle takes 608 and Yeri takes the one next to yours, 605. The only available lockers, then, are the 609, top one on the right, and the 3 lockers at the bottom, that are rarely used. 606 is an unavailable locker and yet, one day you get there, slightly late, and you see it occupied by a backpack that’s not yours — and locked.

Differently from the lunch box, the locker issue does not go away. In fact, no matter how early you get there, every other day there is a black backpack locked inside the 606. You aren't tall enough to reach 609, forcing you to use one of the lockers at the bottom. Everytime you try to crouch down to get something from your bag, you curse at the person who’s using your locker.

The last change to the quiet routine you led at Funfair was Sunny, the bear. In three months working there, last week was the first time you started to actually see it walking around. Of course, during your training, Taeyong made sure to give you a very detailed explanation of the origins of Sunny and even let you see the bear costume. Seeing someone wearing it, though, was something completely different. Considering the near-bankrupt financial situation Funfair has been suffering for a while, it is normal that the park is understaffed (and not a real problem because there aren’t many customers, anyways). But, with some many improvements to be done, why did Taeyong decide to hire someone to give life to that creepy looking bear? No one besides Taeyong seemed to care about Sunny’s presence, why is it around now?

You are too focused on your own thoughts to pay attention to Mina and Jisung entering the breakroom. They seem excited about something and trying to speak at the same time.

“Shut up, Jisung, I will tell everybody!” she squeals and Jisung mumbles something along the line ‘I barely breathed’. “Where’s Chenle? I have bombastic news.”

“He texted the group chat saying he will be late,” you answer unamused.

“Girl, cheer up, I have hot gossip.” You hum, more interested in your sandwich than the gossip.

“We saw the new guy enter Yeri’s car yesterday after work.” Jisung blurts out and Mina slaps his shoulder. “What? Someone can appear in the breakroom any minute.”

“We already know she knows him. Taeyong hired him because of her, remember?” You bite your sandwich and see Jisung deflates, agreeing that it wasn’t the big deal he was thinking.

“Well, she didn’t say that his last name was Lee,” she whispers the last word, making you and Jisung snap your heads to her direction.

“You didn’t tell me-”

“Doyoung told Yuta who told me that the name of the guy is Lee Donghyuck and he works part-time here every other day. That’s why we don’t see him that much.”she says, pulling a chair for Jisung to sit on.

“Do you think he is the Lee in the love triangle?” Jisung whispers, fishing for his phone. “Oh, Chenle’s gonna love this.”

“Have you guys seen this Donghyuck in the breakroom, yet?” you ask, looking at the lockers. “Or coming to work, at least?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think he is the one using my locker?” They look at you confused. “I usually see it locked with a black backpack inside.”

“Well, he works every other day,” Mina starts “I don’t think it’s him, you’re here everyday.”

“Who would do that, though? The managers use Taeyong’s office. I’m sure it’s him. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Jisung reasons, making you glare at him.

“He stole my locker!” you fight back making them shake their heads at you.

Two whole weeks have passed and everybody but you have met the locker thief. It's not that you are obsessed with knowing who the hell this Lee Donghyuck is, especially not after Mina tells you in secret that he is very funny and very hot (and begged you not to tell Jisung that). You are curious to meet the one who is behind the creepy bear that makes children laugh and forces all of you to listen to circus music (Taeyong said it is a new tactic so people can associate the song to Sunny and they will know when he is around. You don’t care, you just hate both the bear and the song).

It is on a Friday evening that you understand why people say “curiosity killed the cat”. You are sent to help Mina in the food stalls because Jisung, being the annoying brat he is, ended up breaking the merry-go-round thanks to his habit of shutting it off to avoid the children. When one of the rides breaks down, it means sending someone to help with the food stalls, but Taeyong knew that between sending Jisung or a lamppost to work with Mina, the lamppost would be more useful. That’s why Jisung is at the bumper cars right now and you are stuck in the food stall, with your hair and clothes smelling like butter and old popcorn.

"Hey, what's broken today?" she asks, leaning her arms on the counter and bending her body forward.

"The merry-go-round," you roll your eyes. "I bet it's Jisung’s fault for shutting it down on purpose at least three times per shift to avoid the little children."

“I thought they would send you to the haunted house to give Doyoung a break, though.” She hands you wet wipes so you can help her clean the counter.

“Nah, Doyoung has too much fun scaring away the horny teenangers trying to have sex and use drugs in there.”

"Aw, at least you're here with me today!" she smiles and you give her an unamused smile. "I'll be nice, I know you hate the smell, so I’ll stay here and you can do the stocking tonight!"

Your problem is being a little naive around your friends. Sure, the popcorn smell was bad, but you didn't know that stocking the stalls would mean walking around, back and forth, carrying paper bags, corn bags, cans of soda and even organizing the pantry's shelves. You also didn’t know the stockroom is basically all the way across the park.

"Who knew we sold that much soda here." You murmur after your 5th trip to the pantry to restock soda.

"It's not that we sell a lot, it's just that this mini fridge is too small."

"Yeah, I noticed," you narrow your eyes at your friend who just laughs and talks to a new customer.

After a couple of hours, things start to get slower at the stall, so you have time to organize and store everything in their right place. You were definitely not used to this kind of job, just staying behind the scenes, not dealing with annoying adults and small children, but you seem to enjoy it. You pull out your phone and plug your earphones to listen to some music to pass time. The stockroom was a container that stayed behind the ferris wheel and the walls of the park didn’t allow people to see it.

The songs coming from your headphones distract you so much that you don't notice someone hiding behind the open door of the container. They opened from outside, so they blocked the view of who was behind it, but the lights from the ferris wheel allowed you to see a weirdly shaped shadow. You get closer and jump at the sight of the Sunny, the bear too close to your face.

"What the fuck?" you hear him say and you get so startled that you end up pushing it, almost making it fall on the ground.

"I should be the one saying that, dude," you answer, holding the stack of popcorn bags close to you. "What are you doing here?”

"Hiding," you can faintly hear the person's voice through the gigantic head of the costume.

"What?"

"I'm hiding from the kids," the bear points to your left, the direction of the park. "There is a little kid today that is just obsessed with kicking my ankle."

You laugh at that and go back inside the stockroom to put the popcorn bags in their place. The bear stays outside and you wonder if this is your chance of finally seeing the mysterious not-so-new guy that has been the hot topic for a while.

"Hey," you lean on the door's frame, calling the bear's attention to you "How long have you been working here?"

"Since the 90's, or something like the story Taeyong told me." you laugh at that, hearing the bear chuckle as well. "I started some weeks ago. Why?"

"I was just wondering, because I’m seeing Sunny around too often," you shrug. "You’re the new guy Donghyuck, right?"

"You have a lot of questions, I see," you hear the teasing tone and just roll your eyes. “Flirty, much? Can’t resist the bear’s charm?”

"I hope you can't see shit with this big ass head in this terrible lighting, and end up falling."

"HEY! I was just kidding, don't be mean," he moves a little bit closer to you.

“You are very good at being vague and changing the topic, mister Sunny, the bear.”

“What can I say, I like being mysterious,” with the silence between both of you, you can hear Taeyong cursing, which is very unusual of him. "Shit, I think I hear Taeyong."

"Are you afraid of getting fired?"

"No, I'm afraid he's gonna make me work," he answers and you can't help but laugh, calling Taeyong's attention to you and the bear.

Ever since that shift, you started getting somewhat closer to Sunny, who you are sure is the Lee Donghyuck, even though he didn’t confirm it. You still haven't got the chance to see him without the costume and your interactions are always short, but there is something so familiar about him…

It is also very fun to see Sunny interacting with the staff. Sometimes, he walks past the food stall and shakes Mina's hand, or hi-five Chenle when he passes by the spinning cups. But your favorite thing is when he stays next to the merry-go-around, right across the bumper cars, and throws flying kisses in your direction. It feels like Donghyuck is showing a little bit of his personality through Sunny and you have to admit that the guy is pretty nice to be around. And just like that, what was once a very creepy looking bear that you avoided at all costs, becomes a very creepy looking bear that you expect to see during your shifts.

Today, Donghyuck decided to walk past the bumper cars and make a “call me” sign, right after sending you hearts and dancing with little kids. You try not to pay much attention to him, but it’s cute how he never forgets to interact with everybody around him and doesn’t leave until he makes his coworkers smile at least for a few seconds.

There is a particular child giving him a hard time, though. You see the little boy, probably ten, trying to take the bear's head at all costs. It tried climbing on Donghyuck, pulled his arms and even kicked his ankle once. There was usually someone to keep him company to avoid annoying kids like those. Where is Taeyong?

"Hey," you see a girl getting out of the bumper cars all by herself. "You, pigtail." The girl seems tall and strong enough to win a fight, you think . "I'll give you five bucks if you push that boy over there."

"Make it ten and I'll pull his hair too," she opens her hands, motioning you to give her money.

Eventually, Taeyong ends up putting you in trash duty for three days after finding out that you "incited" a fight in a family friendly environment, even though you will deny it forever. You don't mind it too much, because it allows you to walk around the park and talk to everybody, and whenever Sunny is around, you can get a little bit closer while he sends you flying kisses.

You don't know why, but having that huge weird-looking bear around has definitely made working here better.

"Well, I have some news," Taeyong says, calling everyone's attention. "We will be shutting down the haunted house, the merry-go-round and the spinning cup."

You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Although you were all expecting that summer break would be a game changer for the business, only a miracle could save the Funfair. To be fair, Taeyong had managed to improve a couple of things here and there: he repainted the front of the park, fixed the broken trash cans and even hired Renjun to make a nice mural at the front (which was really nice for marketing, because teenagers love to take pictures there). There was a general feeling that the business was changing and the summer was a breath of fresh air to everybody, but the summer break wasn’t as miraculous as your hopeful and young minds thought.

"Why the spinning cups? They were fine though," Chenle pouts and Taeyong just shakes his head.

"I know you like it there, Lele, but a third of the cups aren't spinning properly and there are just so many vomits I can clean up in a day," he sighs and you feel the tense atmosphere in the air.

“We should have shut down the haunted house a long time ago, in my opinion,” Yeri says, eating a lollipop. “I don’t know how Doyoung endured horny teenangers trying to have sex in there for so long.”

“It was nice staying inside to scare them away,” he shrugged.

“I bet the merry-go-round is Jisung’s fault though,” you say, provoking Jisung, who sticks his tongue out.

“Actually, the engine is heating up so, if anything, Jisung shutting it off every now and then actually helped.” Yuta says besides Taeyong, leaning on the lockers.

“Okay, let’s stop,” he says, visibly stressed. “This is a report, it’s not open for comments, everyone.”

“But, I have ques-”

“Shut up.”

"I know you are all wondering what's going to happen, but don't worry, we got this!” Taeyong starts speaking again, expecting us to be silent. “I have reorganized everybody’s positions: Jisung will take the bumper cars. Y/N and Chenle can decide who will take the ferris wheel and the roller coaster, I just can’t have Jisung on neither because I don’t trust him with the safety procedures. No offense, Jisung."

“None taken, hyung,” he says, eating a lollipop.

“We don’t have experience in those rides, it was usually the more experienced staff who took care of it,” you raise your hand, worried.

“It’s okay, we’ll train you.”

“What about Doyoung hyung and Yuta hyung?” Chenle asks worriedly.

“Kids, don’t worry about anything else, alright?” Taeyong smiles reassuringly, ending the meeting and sending everybody home.

A week after the sudden change of positions, everything was running smoothly. Doyoung and Yuta helped you and Chenle and for the first three days, teaching you how to control the rides and slowly letting you do it by yourselves. Despite everything looking almost the same as usual, you couldn’t shake the weird feeling out of your chest. Why did Taeyong suddenly shut down part of the park? It’s not as if there is much of it left anyways. He didn't say much about Yuta and Doyoung after they stopped training us. Did they get fired? You haven’t seen Sunny in a while. Did Taeyong fire Donghyuck too? Will you be next?

The prospect of getting fired makes you realize you haven't really worried about looking for a good internship in a while. You can’t really blame yourself for getting tired of it after the countless no’s. And, honestly, you were comfortable working for Taeyong. Sure, the pay wasn’t great, but the job isn’t demanding and your boss is not pressuring you to do anything more than come to work, press a few buttons, make sure no one gets into an accident, and go home. But your parents had already started to worry about your career, thinking your job at the theme park wasn’t as temporary as they thought it would be. You think it’s time for you to start worrying about it too, so you decide that as soon as the summer break is over, you must find somewhere else to work.

Even though you know you need to find another job, a tiny little part of your heart hurts at the thought of leaving everyone behind. Would you be able to find such nice and welcoming people anywhere else? You realize your mind has wandered for too long when you see brown paws shaking in front of your face.

"A penny for your thoughts?" you hear Donghyuck’s voice and smile.

"Sunny does not use human language to communicate. Taeyong will get angry at you," you cross your arms and lean on the railing behind you.

"It's not like there's a lot of people around anyways. The only kid is you" he stands next to you, just looking at the empty park. You slap his arm and he chuckles. "It's almost closing time, I don't know why I'm still wearing this."

"You get more breaks than we do, work for once, please," you joke and hear his sweet laugh muffled by the costume.

"Try walking around with this gigantic stinky head to see if you wouldn't need a break every 30 minutes too." You smile and make your way to the control cabin when you take a look at the time.

“Time to turn off the lights and go home,” you say, pressing a few buttons on the panel.

“I didn’t know they changed your position,” you hear the boy speaking loudly so you can hear him from the cabin. "I found out the hard way.”

“And what is the hard way?” you scream back, starting to get out of the cabin and heading to the stairs.

“I can’t really see from afar with this mask on, you know…” He sighs and you frown at him. “Yeri told me today I had spent the past week sending flying kisses to Jisung and not you.”

You cackle with laughter from the sudden confession. Now it makes sense why you have spent the entire week without seeing a sign of him. You just thought Sunny was one of the things Taeyong was slowly getting rid of.

"You must be completely blind with this head on," you say, walking down the steps and being face to face with the bear. "Can you even see anything now with the lights off?"

"I can figure it out."

You extend your arm, offering it. "C'mon, I'll lead the way."

“The ferris wheel is very far from the breakroom, you know. That’s why I never come here,” he says, locking arms with you.

“Yeah, I know. On the weekend I always have to run if I don’t wanna miss the last bus.”

“Will I have to keep walking all the way down the ferris wheel to see you?”

“Yes,” you laugh wholeheartedly as he groans. You start walking, your arms linked together, and your curiosity perks up. "I have a question," you hear some humming and decide to keep going. "Why have I never seen you, Donghyuck?"

"It’s because I’m not Donghyuck, I’m Sunny, silly!” you scoff and listen to his cheeky laugh.

"You are a little frustrating, you know that? I like it better when you can't speak." you huff, but keep walking towards the exit of the park. "Should I wait for you outside the bathroom to know who you are?"

"Don't be a creep,” he teases, and you slap his arm covered by the costume.

"I just think it’s unfair how you know who I am and I only know your name because Mina loves gossiping around,” you pout and feel a pet in your head.

"You really have no idea who I am?” he scoffs, sounding disappointed and you get confused. “Yeah, didn’t think you would remember me.”

“What are you talking about?” you frown and he just shrugs it off. “Am I supposed to know you?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“Stop it!” you say, slightly frustrated.

“Okay, okay," you hear him chuckling. "I think our schedules are just incompatible.”

“I think you are just ugly and are embarrassed,” you tease and you hear him gasp.

“Holy shit, you’re mean,” he pretends to be offended as you laugh. “But, wait, have you been thinking about me and what I look like?”

You can’t see his face, but the smugness you hear in his voice is enough to annoy you (and make you blush, because… yes, you have.)

“If you don’t stop with the nonsense I’ll leave you to walk alone in the dark,” you warn him, passing by the merry-go-round, reaching the middle of the park.

“I think you are the one who doesn’t want to be alone, honey,” he teases you again, and you motion to unlink your arms but he immediately apologizes. “No, no, sorry, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

You keep walking in a comfortable silence until you decide to speak again “Do you think we’re getting fired?”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s just…” you sigh and Donghyuck starts to slow down your pace. “I mean, we know this business is not flourishing, but I can’t lie, I thought summer break would help. Now with Taeyong shutting down part of the park, summer break is almost over, I don’t know…”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much about that,” he says sincerely and you scoff.

“Yeah, sure,” you keep silent for a little while, but Donghyuck feels you still have some things to get off your chest. “If I get fired before getting an internship I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve already disappointed my parents so many times, and I’m so frustrated with myself. I.. Should I even keep trying to become a journalist? I think I should just ask Renjun to set me up with some rich dude. I don’t think he would, though, He was the one that found me this job when his parents are filthy rich and know basically every businessman in the city.”

“Renjun’s parents are not that rich, they just know a lot of people,” he adds, making you sigh again.

“I wish I knew a lot of people. Actually, I wish I knew the right people. I wouldn’t be here struggling to find an internship if I did.”

“Well, I think you shouldn’t worry too much about this.”

“Yeah, easier said than done. I have been trying to get an internship for, what, six months? I must be really bad because I didn’t even get a single interview.”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much because what is supposed to happen, will happen.” He turns his head to you and tilts it to the right. “Maybe, you won’t find the perfect job you’re looking for right now, but there will be some other opportunities that might help you achieve your goal. Have you ever watched Monsters University?”

“Oh, you are not about to give me advice based on a Pixar movie,” you chuckle and Donghyuck gets defensive.

“Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, you should, because you’re being very Mike Wazowski right now,” you laugh at his comparison, promising him you would see the movie as soon as you got home.

Even after the heartfelt conversation, you haven’t met Donghyuck as himself yet. You don’t know if your schedules really didn’t align or if he was actively avoiding you after you just spilled your worries out of nowhere. You don’t think it was a reasonable option considering he would still go out of his way to greet you at the ferris wheel, even if it meant cutting his break 5 minutes because it took him longer to get to the breakroom.

But you can’t help but feel weird when you hear Yeri and Mina casually talking about Donghyuck's opinion on the drama they are watching together. How did they even get that close? I mean, there was still the theory that he was Yeri’s boyfriend so you guess that made sense, but why wouldn’t he talk to you about the drama too? You could start watching it. Even Chenle seemed to socialize more with Donghyuck outside work than you, as he constantly mentions how they meet up sometime to go to a cybercafe to play games. Why are you the only one that has short interactions with him dressed up as the fucking creepy bear? Plus, there is the constant feeling of familiarity when you’re around him, but you can’t remember from where you might know each other. It was all driving you really, really mad.

“Why are you frowning?” Doyoung asks as you’re sitting down in Taeyong's office, waiting for him.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your face looks like a raisin.”

“Don’t call me raisin!” You raise your voice, getting angrier by the minute. “Do you know Donghyuck?”

Doyoung seems startled by your sudden change of subject. “Of course I do, he works here.”

“Have you met him outside work? Like, in normal clothes, not in a bear costume.”

“Obviously, he’s Jeno’s childhood friend,” he says matter-of-factly. Jeno? You know that name… “Why are you being so-”

“Wait, Jeno? Lee Jeno? As in Huang Renjun’s friend?”

“I don’t know any Huang Renjun, but, yeah, Lee Jeno, he’s like a brother-”

“HOLY SHIT,” you gasp and cover your mouth. “Shit, what the fuck, this is not real.”

“I know you’re off the clock, but it’s sorta rude to curse like that.”

“Doyoung, I know Donghyuck,” you ignore him, standing up and holding his arms with pleading eyes. “I know who Donghyuck is.

“Considering you have been working together for a month or so, that’s… great?” He says cautiously.

“Tell Taeyong I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I have to make a phone call,” You say, grabbing your backpack and bolting out of the room.

As soon as Doyoung mentioned Jeno, everything clicked together.

You remembered the night at the party, when you met that cute guy and you just decided to kiss all night long, chat about the most random things while you get drunk on the expensive Japanese beer he said he bought, but you find out later that it was Jeno’s. You remember talking about your favorite seasons and him telling you you might be meant to be because you love summer and his gaming nickname meant fullsun. You should have recognized him as soon as you heard him tease you for the first time. Damn, he even mentioned Renjun’s parents as if he knew them personally and you didn’t bat an eye. How could you be so stupid?

The first problem is not recognizing him. The second problem is how are you going to face him after taking so long to recognize him. Now you understand why he probably didn’t want you to see him without the costume, imagine how embarrassing it will be for you.

Donghyuck never works two days in a row, so hopefully he won’t be here today, right? Wait, was he here yesterday? You don’t remember. If you don’t remember, he probably wasn’t, so, does that mean you will have to see him today? But maybe it’s just your bad memory. You needed advice about this situation, what would you do from now? You are sprinting to the breakroom, ready to put your things away and call your roommate.

When you get there, you immediately couch down to put your things on the locker, not bothering to look if the 606 locker is available. It hasn’t been ever since Donghyuck started here anyways. As you are having trouble shoving the backpack inside the small locker, you see someone standing behind you, silently opening one of the lockers too.

“Your phone’s on the floor.”

He points out to the bright screen of your phone that has fallen from your hands and is sitting right beside you. You take a glance at the lock screen, seeing Doyoung’s threatening message, and scoff.

[doyoung manager (dangerous)]: If you canceled this meeting to gossip with the other kids, I’ll make Taeyong put you in trash duty for a whole month.

“Honestly, I’m here having a crisis and Doyoung thinks I’m gossiping,” you grumble while still trying to shove the backpack inside “What’s wrong with this locker tod-”

“Do you need help?”

You feel like someone has knocked the air out of your lungs when you see Donghyuck crouched down beside you, wearing a cheeky smile. You fall on your butt and he immediately holds your arms to help you stand back to your original position.

“Do you need help?” he repeats, his head motioning to the lockers and you simply nod. “It can be tricky to fit the whole bag inside these lockers.”

You just nod again, and stand up, letting him put it inside the tiny metal box and close it. “Password?” you look at him confused. “Are you not locking it?”

“No, we never lock it,” you shake your head and gasp. You move a little to the side to see the 606 locker taken, and look back at him angrily. “So it was you this whole time. You stole my locker!”

“I didn’t steal anything, it was there and I took it.”

“It was my perfect little locker, perfect height., perfect size,” you mourn half-jokingly.

“Why don’t you take the other ones?”

He stands up, meeting you face to face and you have to admit that it is a whole new thing to see him in good lighting without his bear costume. He is hotter than you remembered. His hair is also longer and wavy, different from when you first met. Damn you and your thing for boys with long hair.

“They're all taken and I can’t reach the one above yours,” you shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t know you had work today, Haechan.” You use the nickname he told you back at the party and that makes him smile.

“Oh, so now you remember me?” The smugness of his voice makes you shy and he notices it by the way you smile and starts to move away from him.

“Yeah, about that, I should apologize,” you say, sitting down in one of the chairs. “I should have connected the dots as soon as you told me about Renjun’s parents.”

“Oh,” the smug expression on his face dies as he lets out what seemed to be a disappointed sigh.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. “Am I being stupid again?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckles humorlessly as he leans on the lockers and puts his hands inside the pockets of the leather jacket. Be damned the leather jackets, you think. “I thought you were going to apologize for not calling.”

“What?” you let out an airy laugh.

“That night at the party, you said you would call me.”

“I don’t have your number though, how would I call you?” You remember the kissing, and his hands, and his hoarse voice whispering sweet nothings in your ears, but you definitely don’t remember having his number.

Donghyuck takes his hand out of his pocket and stretches it out in front of you, asking for your phone. You give it to him, open it on the keypad, and he gives a few taps before handing it back to you. He didn’t even need to finish typing the whole thing because it was there, on the top of the screen: “Lee Donghyuck” written in bold, with his number right beside it.

You start to think you don’t remember as much from that night as you thought you did. You grunt and he just chuckles.

“At least now I know I wasn’t rejected, you just forgot” he jokes and sits in front of you, who was hiding your face in your hands. “I just don’t know if that’s better or not.”

“I don’t know what happened, I wasn’t that drunk to forget your name and your number.”

“You forgot my name too?” he says half-offended, now understanding why you didn’t recognize him before. “Damn, were you that cock drunk?”

“Now, don’t cross a line, Lee Donghyuck,” you immediately sit up straight, sending him a glare. “We didn’t go that far.”

“Sorry, bad joke,” He lowers his head, avoiding your eyes, “We could’ve.”

“We could have what?”

“If you had called,” he says, leaning his body on the table as he doesn't break eye contact. “We could’ve gone as far as you wanted.”

“WHAT’S UP!” Chenle says loudly as he opens the door abruptly. “What are you guys talking about?”

You use that as your cue to compose yourself from Donghyuck’s very suggestive words, and point at your own ears, giving Chenle a sign that he needs to lower the volume of his earpods.

“Oh, sorry, was I screaming?” he puts his stuff in his locker and sits between you and Donghyuck, painfully unaware of the tension in the air. “What were you guys- Oh, Y/N, you finally met him!”

Donghyuck snaps his head in Chenle’s direction and you start praying he will not say anything that could embarrass you. “You were so jealous that you were the only one that hadn't met him properly yet.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say distressed, stressing your distaste for his choice of words. “It was just weird how-”

“Oh, you so were,” both boys giggled and you rolled your eyes, standing up hastily, making the chair screech. “Please, you got all pouty the day I mentioned we play together.”

“Honey, if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” Donghyuck is clearly having the time of his life with Chenle’s information.

You groan as you leave the breakroom and they keep teasing you. You definitely need better friends.

"Who would have thought that all you had to do to start dating was confessing, right?” Chenle says sarcastically while all of you are hanging out in the breakroom.

“Wait, so you weren’t dating before?” Taeyong asks the couple sitting in front of him.

“No, they were just very much in love and just as oblivious,” you say, munching on the chocolate chip cookie Taeyong baked for the staff today.

"Well, it’s not like that, I was already planning on confessing…" Jisung scratches the back of his head and Chenle scoffs.

"Yeah, since freshman year… of HIGH SCHOOL," and you see Mina blushing when Jisung giggles and kisses her cheek, giving her a silent confirmation that Chenle's statement was nothing but the truth.

"Oh my god, she still blushes at everything he does!" Yeri exclaims and Chenle gags, muttering 'disgusting'.

Apparently, the past weekend has been full of surprises. Taeyong had a “pressing family matter” to attend to, so he decided to close the park and give everybody the Saturday and Sunday off. Probably not the smartest move for a failing business but who are you to complain?

With two days off on the weekend, everybody had their own thing: Yeri went to the beach with her boyfriend (Mina is still Team Johnny, but Jisung and I think he is too tall compared to the silhouette photos Yeri showed us). Chenle went to a basketball game and adopted a dog, out of nowhere. He only shut up about the game to show us Daegal’s pictures which we very much appreciated. Jisung had invited Mina on a picnic date, but she accidentally heard him practicing his confession, which led them to, finally, become boyfriend and girlfriend.

You, well, you had a date with Donghyuck. It was a friendly date, he just asked you out to get some coffee. And have lunch. And you eventually ended up going with him to his friend’s photography exhibition. In your defense, he was very pleasant to be around and it’s always good to be in contact with the arts.

You woke up that Saturday ready to do something fun, but your roommate and her boyfriend already had plans, just like everybody else from work. At first you decided to stay at home and just enjoy your day alone, but then you remembered how long it had been the last time you had a free weekend. Like, the whole weekend. After the whole ordeal with Donghyuck, you became good friends so you thought it wouldn’t hurt if you messaged him to see if he wanted to do something, right? As friends, of course!.

[you - 10:30 a.m]: hey how’s your day off?

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: damn honey

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: not even a whole day

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: miss me already?

[you - 10:30 a.m]: oh fuck off

[you - 10:31 a.m]: i just wanted to know if you had plans

[you - 10:31 a.m]: because i don’t and i’m bored

[donghyuckie - 10:32 a.m]: i can be free

[donghyuckie - 10:32 a.m]: why?

[you - 10:33 a.m]: wanna get some coffee?

[you - 10:33 a.m]: u pay

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: 🙄

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: meet me at 7dream in 10 min

[you - 10:35 a.m]: i need 30 to get ready tho

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: be there in 10 or you pay

You did your best to look as presentable as possible in record time, only for Donghyuck to arrive at the café twenty minutes later, saying he didn’t think you would take him seriously and would just take your time getting ready. He did apologize for being late and after eating breakfast, he waited as you went back home to look more presentable during lunch.

You see, spending time with Donghyuck was very confusing for you because he always made flirty comments and dirt jokes around you, but never really tried to initiate anything. He was pretty hard to read, in your personal opinion, but it was so fun to have him around and he was always so thoughtful and nice, that you never let useless thoughts fill your mind. And what if you made out once in a party months ago? You didn’t remember his name, you never called and you only met again by chance. You could totally be friends, all the “tension” that you once had, if you ever had it, was water under the bridge!

At least that’s what you thought.

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

It was late, really late. The workers at the diner were probably cursing both of you for getting there as it was about to close, so you just decided to keep drinking your milkshake so you both could leave as fast as possible.

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

“Earth to Y/N,” Mina shakes her hand in front of your face, taking you out of your thoughts.

“OH, sorry, what’s up?”

“What did you do on the weekend?” Yeri asks, and you suddenly feel shy when everybody’s attention is on you. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“No way!” Jisung exclaims and you start to feel your face hotter by the second.

“And just know she was so distracted…” Mina smirks and your eyes widen, shaking your head.

“Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND,” Chenle sing-songs like a nine year-old and the other ones join him.

“It’s not-” you try to speak but they just sing louder, making you sigh in frustration.

“Stop, children,” Taeyong calls their attention and you sigh in relief, thinking he is going to scold them. Your peace doesn’t last long, though. “We don’t know if it’s a boyfriend or a girlfriend!”

They all look at each other before Chenle starts singing again:

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WENT ON A DATE.”

“You are all absolutely insufferable,” you say, standing up and pretending you don’t hear how they keep teasing you about your “date”.

Donghyuck opens the break room door right when you are ready to leave. You stop yourself before your bodies collide and he simply smiles. “What’s going on?”

“Noth-”

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WHEN ON A DATE.” Chenle chants again and you turn your body to face him from across the room.

“Shut up, Chenle! Nobody said it’s true.” You don’t have time to lay a guilt trip on Chenle because Donghyuck beats you to it, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted.

“It’s true, though, you went on a date with me,” Donghyuck says seriously and everybody gasps. He walks towards the lockers and smiles when he sees that you took locker 606 before him today. “We spent the whole Saturday together.”

You see Jisung flabbergasted as he lets out “Oh my god, you’re dating Yeri’s boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Mina elbows him at the same time that Yeri, Taeyong and Donghyuck scream a “What???”

“It was a friendly date, I’M NOT DATING ANYBODY!” You scream the last part, storming off the break room and pretending you don’t hear Donghyuck quietly say ‘yet”.

“So you’re telling me you have a boyfriend and his name is Mark?” Mina confirms the information, still not sounding quite sure of it yet.

“Don’t mind her, she was team Johnny.” Chenle tells Yeri, making her look more confused.

“Team who?” Taeyong just stands there, trying to understand the whole situation. “I have so many questions…”

“And you,” Jisung says, turning to Donghyuck. “Met Y/N months ago at Yeri's boyfriend party, fell in love, but she forgot about you, so you had to get this job as Sunny, the bear to make her fall for you again and remember you?” He finishes, leaving Donghyuck absolutely stunned at the boy’s lack of ability to hold a single information in his brain.

“This is not what I said at all, you literally made up 90% of this story.”

After you stormed out, you went outside some of the opening tasks for today and you were hoping someone would come to help you out soon, but twenty minutes later, only Doyoung appeared, asking where the others were. After not having any answer from you, he calls Taeyong who just says ‘wait 10 more minutes and we’ll have so much to talk about’. He decides to go to the breakroom and see for himself what on earth is going on in the park today, only to find the boss, one of the managers and all the other workers sitting around the table, gossiping.

“She does seem a little silly, I have to admit,” Yuta says nonchalantly.

“She’s worse than Mina and Jisung together, honestly,” Chenle shakes his head, “Dumb as a door.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Doyoung says in a serious tone, startling everybody.

“I told you to wait 10 minutes, Hyuck is about to finish his story,” Taeyong shakes his head, shooing Doyoung away. “Someone needs to be in charge. Go, go, I’ll tell you later.”

“YOU are the one in charge.” Doyoung scoffs, but goes anyway, someone should be helping you.

Donghyuck retells the whole story of how you met and how disappointed he was when you didn’t call. He told everyone about how he got this job because his friend’s girlfriend, who is Yeri, knew he needed a part-time job. He got to the Funfair having no idea what he was going to do, much less knowing that you worked here too. He told them how happy he got the first time he saw you helping Mina at the food stalls, and how he recognized you by your voice, because he couldn’t really see much when he was wearing the costume.

He told them all about how he tried getting your attention as Sunny when you didn’t seem to recognize him, but it backfired because you couldn’t remember him and he was starting to get sad. He told them that he actively avoided you when he wasn’t wearing his costume to avoid the embarrassment of you not knowing who he was. Then, he said how you accidentally found out who he was, how he got closer to you each day and how it all backfired when he confessed last Saturday and you rejected him.

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

"Either way, it's probably not real feelings. At least not towards me." you said, not looking in his eyes.

"You are unbelievably stubborn, blind and borderline rude," he spitted out, feeling the anger building up. How dare you have a say on what he feels about you?

"See? Why would you like someone with a nasty personality like that?" your arms moved around excitingly, as if you were proving your point. "You like the chase, not me!"

And then, Donghyuck confessed how he was ready to look you in the eyes and fight back, but the words died on his throat when he saw the huge smile on your face. He paid attention to the way your palms were open in front of you, arms stretched towards him, the way that wrinkles were all around your eyes from how much you were smiling and how excited you looked. He admitted that it dawned upon him that he likes you to the extent that he could let you keep thinking, for a moment, that he's not absolutely in falling for you if it meant that you would keep smiling like that.

Donghyuck understands that he can't always win. So, he gave you that one, letting you think you were right. He let you go back to your milkshake and your pancakes tasting of syrup and the satisfaction of being on the winning end of an argument.

He let you win that battle so he could win the war. Eventually.

“How will you win her over, then?” Mina looks at him curiously.

“I don’t have a plan,” Donghyuck sees the disapproving look on their faces and quickly adds. “Yet.” They all look at him suspiciously, and he can see Taeyong’s amused face. “Can’t you guys help me? You’re all her friends.”

"Oh, no," Chenle clicks his tongue while excessively shaking his index finger "No, no."

"We're here to judge not to meddle," Jisung says and all of them start moving around, getting ready to go to work.

"Yeah, take Jisung and Mina as an example, they got together by themselves. We never helped, only judged.” Yeri complements, making Jisung agree with a sad ‘yeah’.

"That's so messed up," Donghyuck shakes his head in disbelief. "You are all insane."

"Well, I can call her a coward if it helps you," Chenle. "It's what I did to Mina all these years."

"That's mean, Chenle,” Taeyong says disapprovingly.

"Frankly, it worked eventually," Mina replies as she stands up from the seat and stretches.

She kisses Jisung cheek and heads out, and, slowly, everybody goes to their normal, uneventful job at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation.

After the eventful Saturday when Donghyuck confessed, you never touched the “feelings” subject anymore. He is still Lee Donghyuck, your friend and coworker whom, sometimes, you go out with. Nothing more, nothing less. And on days like today, when it has been raining non stop since 10 a.m, it was amazing having an energetic friend like him.

You don’t know how he did it, really. The rain caught you all by surprise, so Donghyuck, who works outside, had to stay in the breakroom until the rain stopped, and that only happened around 9 p.m. There were no customers at all, the park was empty and even though you were supposed to stay open until midnight today, Taeyong decided to let you all go home early.

Chenle was complaining how the last hangout had been the one at Jisung’s house before Mina and him were even dating, and just like that, all of you end up in Donghyuck’s apartment drinking hot chocolate and playing card games.

It’s time for all of you to show your cards and you hear Chenle groan as Donghyuck smirks and gets all the tokens from the table.

“It’s rigged, he got a full house twice and then royal flush right after,” Chenle scoffs and Donghyuck just laughs.

“Damn, he really won three times in a row?” Mina says and you and Jisung just exchange confused looks, having no idea what had happened.

“Poker is a very confusing game,” you think out loud and Donghyuck smiles sweetly at you.

“Lucky at cards, unlucky in love,” he mumbles, shuffling the cards. “Do you wanna play again or will you keep crying?”

You look at the empty popcorn bowls and mugs beside you and look at Jisung who is just as confused as you. Tired of playing a game you can barely understand, you just shake your head. “You can keep playing, I’ll wash the dishes.”

Before you can even get all of the mugs around you, Donghyuck is standing up, holding the popcorn bowls and a few mugs. You don’t have time to tell him to keep playing because he just goes straight to the kitchen, making you follow him. When you get there, he already has the gloves and the sponge on his hand.

“I thought I said I’d do it,” you angrily put your hands on your hips, scolding him with your eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s against the house rules to have a beautiful lady washing the dishes,” he bumps his hips with yours, making you scoff as you try to hide your smile.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?” you say, leaning your back on the kitchen sink, right next to him. “You invited us over before telling him, didn’t you?”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He shrugs. “He told me he wasn't going to spend the night here today anyways.”

“Girlfriend?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning a little to his side, almost brushing your shoulders together.

“Why are you so curious? Do I have to compete with Jeno?” He asks playfully and you just push his shoulder.

“I was just asking.” You mumble, moving back to your original position. “By the way, Doyoung told me the other day that Jeno is like his brother? And Yeri gave you this job? Your relationships are so confusing.”

He laughs looking at you fondly. “What do you wanna know? Ask away.”

“Hm, how do you know Doyoung? And Yeri? And Jeno?”

“Do you want to know my family tree too?” He jokes and you show him your tongue. “Jeno, Mark and I are childhood friends, Doyoung hyung’s family is really close to Jeno’s, so we all just know each other from birthday parties and stuff. We are not that close though.”

“Oh.” You mumble nodding. “Yeri told us she got you the job though?”

“Yeah, she's been dating Mark for like a year?” He says, shrugging. “Either way, that was a coincidence, I didn’t know she knew Doyoung hyung. Actually, I thought he was working at his father’s law firm? I don’t know what happened, his family is weird.”

“Damn, I was here waiting for the tea and you don’t know anything!” You huff, faking annoyance. “You’re really bad at gossiping.” You notice he is starting to rinse the dishes in the sink, so you grab the towel that’s on the counter.

“And you’re really bad at poker.” He fights back, giving you some mugs to dry and put away. “Why did you say you liked playing cards if you’re bad at it?”

“It’s because I don’t know how to play poker,” you answer, lining up the dry mugs on the counter. “I like to play rummy, not poker.”

“You should have said so.” He gently places the two big popcorn bowls and closes the faucet. “We could have played that instead.”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to hang out with you.” You confess, hoping he understands you weren’t using the plural form of the pronoun. “I didn’t know you were that good at poker, though, I thought you only played League of Legends or whatever.”

“I’m not good, it was rigged,” He leans to whisper in your ears and you feel your pulse hammering on your neck. He chuckles at your startled expression, thinking you’re reacting to his confession, not to his proximity. “I’m joking, don’t be that shocked. Jeno and I just play a lot.”

“What about your other friend?” you ask, not really minding his proximity.

“Mark?” He scoffs when you nod. “He can’t bluff to save his life.”

“You smell nice,” you blurt out and his eyes go wide at your sudden confession. “I- I meant your house.” You use this moment as an opportunity to slide away from him. “Your house smells nice, do you use scented candles?” He chuckles, ready to tease you, but lets it slide.

In the living room, Jisung is sleeping like a rock on Mina’s lap, who is starting to doze off as well. Chenle pokes his friends' arms, saying he has to go because his mom is already worried about his whereabouts. Slowly, they all start to collect their belongings and when you and Donghyuck are back from the kitchen, they are all ready to go. The two of you are taken aback as they bid their goodbyes and thank Donghyuck for being the host for the night.

You decide to stay a little longer to help the owner of the apartment to put everything back in place, when he suddenly asks you to stay the night.

“It’s late, I’ll worry if you go back now,” he pouts. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m serious.”

“I go home late everyday, it’s fine.”

“You have 2 choices,” he raises his index and middle finger in front of you. “Either I take you home or you stay the night.”

“Why didn’t you suggest taking the others home too?” you cross your arms in front of him, clearly challenging Donghyuck. Oh, he is so ready for another battle, but this time he won’t bend.

“Because Jeno has the car.”

“Then how are you taking me home?” you tilt your head playfully.

“I’ll get an uber,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“I was already gonna do that, silly,” you fish your phone out of your pocket to open the app, but Donghycuk steals the phone from your hands. “Donghyuck!”

“I’ll get an uber,” he says, locking your phone and putting it in the front pocket of his sweatpants. “And go with you to drop you off.”

You laugh, clearly amused at his absurd suggestion. “There is no way I’ll let you do that.”

“There is no way I’ll let you get inside a stranger's cars by yourself at 1 a.m.” The firm tone of his voice was enough to let you know he was not dropping this argument like he did last time.

“And how will you get back to your apartment?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s none of your-” you get too close to him and he feels the words dying in his throat at the thought of you hugging him. Donghyuck quickly reacts, though, when he feels you putting your hands inside the left pocket of his sweatpants, making him hold your arms to keep you in place. “HEY. Bad girl.”

“Don’t say that, I’m not a dog.” You grunt, trying to break free from his hold. “Give me my phone, back Hyuck.”

Your whines don’t affect him too much, as he keeps his strong hold on you. You start to take a few steps around the living room, shaking your arms as you try to make him let go. Picturing this scene in your head, you start laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing must look.

“Good girls don’t fight with daddy!” He forces a mocking sexy voice, making you laugh even harder. “Damn, I love you laugh.”

You are still giggling when you turn to look at his face. Donghyuck is already staring at you with utmost adoration and slightly curved lips. Your heart skips a few beats when your eyes lock and he bites his lips to hold his ever growing smile.

“I really love the sound of your laugh.”

His face is closer to yours than you remember, and it’s when he loosens the hold on your arms, only to slide his hands to hold yours, that you realize you have been holding your breath.

“If you don’t want me to go with you, then, stay.” He whispers, using your interlocked hands to pull you closer to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You suggested riding the uber with me,” you smile shyly, slightly moving your head to the side, giving him the space he wanted to pull you closer and nuzzle up against your neck. “Aren’t you being overprotective?”

“Is it a crime, now?” you get goosebumps when you feel him mumbling against your neck.

“It’s toxic,” you joke, taking your hands out of his grasp and raising your arms to place them around his neck. “You smell really good,” you whisper again and feel him taking a deep breath, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Stay, please.”

Donghyuck may have not convinced you the first time he confessed because he had been too straightforward, too casual about it. He should have known better than that. Casual flirting and occasional dates weren’t enough to win you over. That’s why he lost the first battle. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to turn his AC on because even though you’re both sweating, you don’t let him get out of your arms, he knows he’s one step closer to winning the war.

The first thing you do when you open your eyes the following morning is wonder what time it is. You palm the side of the bed to look for your phone, only to feel a human arm. You open your eyes, recognizing Donghyuck’s room. He has one of his arms under your neck, the other one is lazily around your waist and his head nuzzled against your nape. You smile, dreading the moment he wakes up and starts teasing you for staying the night and sleeping on his bed holding him.

You consider calling out today, because you are almost sure that by the time you get there, everybody will be aware that you and Donghyuck cuddled all night long.

Carefully, you get out of bed and go straight to the kitchen to get a cup of water. You shouldn’t feel as comfortable at somebody else’s house as you are right now. When you were about to head back to Donghyuck’s room, Jeno entered the kitchen, with damp hair and wearing only gym shorts. The boy stops on his tracks and you two stare at each other, frozen.

“Hello?” The boy greets you with a frown and closed fists, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Hey. Hi. Good morning.” You answer avoiding eye contact, completely mortified of the encounter. “I-I just- Hyuck told me-”

“Oh, you're with Hyuck?” he acknowledges, smiling at you. “I thought somebody had broken in.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought he had let you know I was staying the night.” You apologize again, and suddenly feel self-aware of your outfit consisting of Donghyuck clothes. “I’ll go back-”

You hear a door opening and steps heading towards the kitchen, and, suddenly, Donghyuck appears. Swollen face, bed hair and shirtless… you feel like melting right there.

“It’s not even 11 yet, why did you-” He looks at Jeno with his squint eyes and then back at you, only to gasp and slap his friend’s chest. “JENO? BE DECENT, GO PUT ON A SHIRT.”

“OUCH, THAT HURTS, ASSHAT!” The boy soothes the place where he was slapped, looking angrily at his friend. “You’re shirtless too!”

“I JUST WOKE UP!” He slaps his friend again, now getting in front of him to block your view. “HONEY, DON’T LOOK!”

“AND I WAS JOGGING?” Jenos slaps Donghyuck Back and you just laugh at how childish they look. “Oh, wait, honey?” He moves to the side to look at you again, but Donghyuck stays in his way. “Dude?”

“Stop moving around, she doesn’t need to see how ripped you are.” Donghyuck bites back and you chuckle.

Jeno shoves Donghyuck to the side and waves at you. “Sorry, he’s very impolite and didn’t think about introducing us. I’m Jeno.”

“SHIRT, JENO. SHIRT.” Donghyuck shouts, as he pushes his friend towards the hallway.

You stay there in the kitchen, holding your laugh, because of course you couldn’t have a nice and calm morning with Lee Donghyuck.

“Hey. Hi. How are you?” Donghyuck comes back a few seconds later, panting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lips to hold your laugh while Donghyuck just walks towards you very, very flustered. “Why are you shirtless? I clearly remember you going to sleep fully clothed.”

“Well, if only someone wasn’t holding me so damn tight the whole night…” He grabs you by the waist, making you yelp in surprise. “When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago.” You answer as he nuzzles your neck and hums.

“What about Jeno?” He asks again, pressing you closer to him, making you involuntarily put your hands on his shoulder to keep your balance. “Did you stare at his ripped abs and toned arms for a long time or did he just get here?”

“You’re so annoying.” You cackle at his question, which only makes him hug you tighter. “Why? Are you jealous?” He tightens his hold on you even more, making you let out chuckles and whines “OUCH, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m holding you.” He answers, walking with you further down the kitchen. “I know the competition is strong, but, come on, I’m hot too, right?” He creates some space between you, just enough to look at you, pouting.

“Donghyuck,” you start and he hums, telling you to keep going. “Do you think you could set me up with Jeno?” You say mischievously, making him squint his eyes angrily at you.

He pokes his cheek with his tongue and rolls his eyes at you. Before you can see it coming, he presses you against the kitchen counter and starts tickling your sides, making you squirm and beg him to stop, but having fun nonetheless.

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. After that night in Donghyuck’s house, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies in your stomach each time he did something for you.

You really try to restrain yourself as much as possible, but there is so much a human being can resist when Lee Donghyuck comes out of nowhere and slides his hands from your nape down to your lower back and kisses your cheeks right after. Or when you’re sitting next to each other in the break room and he plays with your fingers under the table. Or when you’re eating out and he makes sure to keep your hair out of the way for you. Or when he takes Jeno’s car and picks you up late at night from your shifts, even when it’s his day off. Or when-

“Hey, pay attention,” Mina nudges you as Taeyong enters the room, followed by Doyoung, Yuta and a panting Donghyuck, who’s late.

“Sorry, I’m late, I had-”

“Just sit down, Hyuck.” You have never heard such a serious grave tone coming out of Taeyong's mouth before. “Please.”

You all look at each other worried about what is about to happen. When the words leave Taeyong’s mouth, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you all are, though. It’s still shocking, though. From the moment you started, you knew this job wouldn’t last.

“You’re closing forever?” Jisung asks cautiously, making Yuta look at him fondly.

“Yeah, buddy. My parents decided to sell it.” Taeyong smiles apologetically at the three best friends. Chenle is frozen, staring at the managers with his mouth agape. “I know how Sunny’s Funfair is special for the three of you, I’m sorry, Lele, Ji, and Min. I wish I had something else to say, but I can only apologize for this news.”

“Don’t make a speech or else Jisung’s gonna cry.” Chenle tries to joke to lighten up the mood, but his friend only reacts by giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“In the meantime, we will keep working.” Doyoung moves around the break room and hands us a sheet of paper. “Opening tasks, everybody! Let’s do our best during the time that’s left.”

You take a glance at Donghyuck who looks at you worriedly. You offer him a sad smile and shrug, which he mimics, making you smile wider.

“Hey, you two, did you hear Doyoung?” Yuta points at you and Donghyuck. “Stop flirting, go back to work!”

The gloomy vibes don’t go away for at least four days, when Taeyong appears with a cake and a box full of old pictures. The park was closed, but he asked us to stay, telling us it would be worth it and promising to give us a ride home.

We are all seated around the table, eating cake, with taeyong in the middle seat showing us old pictures of the park. There were pictures of families, of former employees, and even of Taeyong and his family. You could see from the first day at the job how much he liked being Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation. It was more than an old park that he had to manage because it’s what his parents told him to do. He actually believed that this small, beaten up amusement park could serve as a way of bringing happiness to the community and help families build cheerful memories together. But there is only so much one can do. You could see that this moment of bringing together the staff and encouraging us to share our best memories of the park is a way of giving Taeyong some comfort.

You sigh, looking sadly at your boss as he rummages through the box of pictures and feel Donghyuck’s arm resting on your shoulder, slightly bringing you closer to his side.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He whispers in your ear and you just turn your head to look at him. Oh, you owed Sunny’s Funfair so much.

“Just thinking.” You lower your head to look at the piece of cake in front of you. “Taeyong did a great job.”

“Hey, you two lovebirds, stop flirting,” Taeyong says, quickly standing up.

“When did I become the butt end of your teasing and not Jisung and Mina?” You ask no one in particular, but Chenle replies.

“Ever since you and Donghyuck started dating.”

“We are not-”

“I have THE ultimate picture here in my hands.” Taeyong interrupts you, as he holds one picture close to his chest, with the back facing us. There is something written behind it and you squint to try to read it, but he is too far from you. “This one here is our most prized possession as a team. We have to cherish this picture.”

“Show us this damn picture.” Chenle’s impatient demeanor falters when Taeyong turns the picture and we see three little children holding hands at the entrance of the park. “What the-”

“How did you get that picture?” Mina tries to take it from Taeyong, but fails.

“Is that us?” Jisung asks dumbfounded.

“There’s a note too.” Taeyong flips the picture and reads the note. “ ‘Today is the day where our Chenle is celebrating his sixth birthday. Thank you so much for the fun memories, Sunny!’ and it’s signed by Mrs. Zhong.”

After their initial shock, you start analyzing the picture, looking at the details: the birthday hat on Chenle’s chubby face, Jisung’s missing teeth and Mina’s ice lolly that was melting in her hands as they were taking the pictures. Then, you see dozens of other pictures, all sent by Chenle’s mom with a note, thanking the staff for the happy memories they created with the children. Taeyong says that his mom was one of the people who used to send messages and pictures to the administration, back when the park was a little more lively.

When you get home, almost ready to go to bed, you reflect on how that place has meant so much for some people, how it is full of memories and how it holds stories from the entire neighborhood. You think about how that was supposed to be only a job, and yet, it is the place that has brought amazing people to your life. You know Funfair’s closing is inevitable, but you finally understood what Taeyong was trying to do that night: closure. He doesn’t want to shut it down and just let everyone move on with their lives as if it didn’t matter, because, for many people, like Chenle, Jisung and Mina, it mattered.

Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation holds stories and you might not be able to save it, but you are ready to tell them.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for another job?” Donghyuck asks as he enters the parking lot. “I mean, I think it’s a nice idea, I really do. But…”

“I am looking, I just haven’t found anything yet.” You say, taking the parking ticket from his fingers and putting it inside your bag.

“I know you’re lying because you've been saying this for three weeks.” He parks the car and turns off the engine, but doesn’t open the doors. “Have you at least applied to anything?”

“Look,” you sigh and hold his face in your hands. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll figure it out.”

He sighs as he sees you unbuckling your belt and unlocking the door. “I hope you know you can’t be my trophy wife yet, I don’t have enough money to pay both of our bills.”

“To be your trophy wife, first and foremost, I need to be married to you.” You turn around to see him leaning on the car with the door open. “We’re not even dating yet.”

“Because you rejected me when I asked you out.” He closes the car’s door and reaches for your hand.

“Ask me again, then.” You say raising an eyebrow at him.

“Will the answer be different?

“I don’t know. Ask me out again.” you shrug and interrupt him when you see Donghyuck opening his mouth. “Properly.”

“Damn.” He sighs and you chuckle at him. “Why me? The world is female, you can ask too, you know?”

You enter the building, telling Donghyuck to wait while you talk to the receptionist. A few minutes later, a very stressed Renjun appears to talk to you. From afar, Donghyuck can see that the boy seemed frustrated at whatever you were arguing, glaring at you and sighing a lot. He knows Renjun was forced by his parents to drop out of art school and start business so he could work in his family company, so the least he needed right now was a very stubborn you adding to his stress.

At some point, he sees Renjun grabbing his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer and making a phone call. Donghyuck starts to think that it was better if you went to a more private place, but you seemed adamant about cornering Renjun in public. Not even two minutes later, he finishes the phone call and tells you something that makes you hug him and Donghyuck sees how his angry demeanor falters. You bid him goodbye and wave at Donghyuck so you can both go.

“What was that?” He asks as you hand him the parking ticket.

“I just needed one last favor from him.” You simply say, reaching for his hands.

“And that is…”

“You’ll see.”

It’s when you intertwine your fingers with Donghyuck and beams at him, that he knows he’s ready to confess again.

You did promise that he would see. Well, not only Donghyuck but the whole student body as well. A week after that weird interaction with Renjun, there is an article about you in the school’s official website, first page. It was also mentioned on the school’s newsletter and official social media pages. It was not only an article about you, but about Chenle, Jisung, Mina, Taeyong… All of you at the Funfair.

Donghyuck had to admit that when you told him your idea at first, he didn’t think you would go through with that. You wanted to tell the others the stories that the Funfair had seen throughout the years throughout an article and later, compile them in a book of memories, with pictures, messages, notes, stories about the place. He really didn’t think you would go through with that considering how much time and planning something like that takes, but, somehow, you did it.

It’s your last day. You spent the past month talking to people, curating pictures, writing, organizing schedules… you were tired, but it was all worth it. You wanted to let this old beaten up park tell the stories it held, even if it was gone. That’s why now, when the lights are already off and Taeyong is only waiting for you to come outside and lock the side door for one last time, you hand him a book with a small bow on top. You see, a little far from where you stand, your friends looking at each other confused, Yeri particularly impatient to go home.

“I want you to have this.” Taeyong looks at you confused. “It was a lot of work to get this done, especially because I’m not very artsy, but I think I owe you this one.”

He opens the book only to find, in a very neat handwriting, the words “Sunny’s memories” written. He looks between you and the book, slightly confused about what it is about, but when he flips the next page, he smiles. He finds a picture of him, Doyoung and Yuta taken many years ago. There were a few arrows connecting their faces to the words “boss”, “manager #1”, “manager #2”.

On the side, there was a small text about each one of them, how they ended up working there, what were their thoughts about the job and their favorite memory there. Every piece of information you gathered in these months working at the park was there, even some of the stories your boss has told you. Taeyong keeps flipping the pages, only to find more pictures of each one of you working there, your names, your thoughts, your memories, all written as if it was from Sunny’s perspective. He looks at you with watery eyes and pulls you to a hug.

“What it’s all this?” He sniffs.

“That day, when you showed us the pictures, I realized places hold stories and this one had many to tell.” You smile and he pats your head. “I know you didn’t want to close the park and let everybody move on as if it never mattered to anyone because it did. To some of us, at least. You did a great job, boss.”

“Oh, kid.” He sniffs and once again hugs you. “It’s perfect!” Taeyong said happily, taking you and his present towards the others. “Everybody, you need to see this!”

Now, after Sunny closed down, you are back to square one.

It’s a Friday night and you were invited to a party, but you managed to convince Donghyuck to stay at his apartment with you. You certainly needed a distraction after another week of failed attempts at getting a job and you know Donghyuck is much more entertaining than any party.

Your relationship status is still pretty much complicated. Even though it was already clear that you both liked each other, Donghyuck still hasn’t asked you the question, waiting for the right moment. It was really hard for him not to cross the friendship line, though, especially when, more often than not, he has make out sessions with you on his couch.

The worst for Donghyuck is how your friends have been keeping their promise of not meddling, but making sure of judging the both of you each time you deny you’re dating while Donghyuck’s hands are intertwined with yours. Tonight, with Jeno away at a party, you have his apartment all to yourselves and Donghyuck decides to make the most out of it. He needs to confess today.

“Hi.” You smile, showing him the take out bag you’re carrying when he opens the door. Your smile falters when you see him frown. “Am I too early? I can-”

“I thought I was supposed to pick you up.” He pouts, moving to the side to let you go inside. “And you shouldn’t have brought take out, I told you I could cook for us.”

“Oh my god, I barely got here and you’re complaining already?” You put the take out on the kitchen counter and go wash your hands.

“It’s just that you’re ruining my plans.” Donghyuck says while peeking inside the bag. “Is this…”

“Yeah, your favorite, kimchi-jjigae.” You turn around to look at him when you hear his groan. “What, now?”

“I had the whole thing planned, you just-”

“Well, maybe you should have told me then!” You scoff. “I just wanted to make something nice for you because I know your new job at the office is killing you, but I’m sorry I guess?”

You start to feel frustrated at his reaction. You were expecting tight hugs, warm smiles and maybe some cuddles, but all Donghyuck has done in the past few minutes is complain and blame you for ruining something you didn’t even know that existed. He senses your frustration and sadness and just quietly holds your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, not really looking at you. “It’s just that I really wanted to do something nice for you too.”

“You always do nice things for me. You’re too nice to me.” You say, turning around to grab bowls to pour the food in. “I got this one.”

Despite Donghyuck’s plan of picking you up, bringing you to his apartment, cooking your favorite food and confessing the words that he has been dying to say failed, he still needs to do it tonight. Well, after months of pining, it was now or never. If you reject him again, he needs to be ready to move on.

“How’s the job?” You ask before taking a bite of your food.

“Hell.” He answers, groaning. “I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to study business. I hate that job.”

“Do you really hate the job or do you just hate the boss?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing fully well that Donghyuck doesn’t really hate what he does, he just can’t stand the presumptuous guys in his office, treating him like garbage just because he’s an intern.

“What about you?” He frowns when he sees you pouting at your food. “I don’t like this face.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You laugh humorlessly.

“I told you, give me five years and you can be my trophy wife.” He jokes, knowing how much you hate the idea.

“Wow, five? That much?”

“I can compromise and make it three if you don’t want kids in the future.” You laugh at his words and try to kick his leg from under the table, but he traps you.

You keep moving between topics because it was just that easy to talk to him. You mentioned how you had seen Mina and Jisung at the campus the other day and Donghyuck points out how he thinks they’re going to get married before graduation. You disagree, Jisung is still a kid. Then, he mentions how he had often seen Chenle around his office, only to find out later that the company he worked at was his grandfather’s. After the Funfair closed, he started working at the family’s company, but Donghyuck says that they are in different departments. You asked about his family that you haven’t met yet, but always heard stories about, and he tells you everything about his younger brother’s record card and his middle sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t forget to mention Jeno’s friends with benefits situation, and that he only found out after finding lingerie lost in the washing machine.

After dinner, Donghyuck suggests teaching you poker for the tenth time, which makes you slightly annoyed because, at this point, you just hate the game. You are both sitting on the floor and he is leaning his back on the couch while you are seated between his legs. He says the proximity is for “pedagogical purposes”.

“No, honey,” He stops your movement by putting his arm around your body and pulling you closer to him. “Look at my cards! I’m showing you my cards!”

“I don’t know what your cards mean!” You groan as you throw your cards on the pile in front of you and lean your head on his shoulder. “I wanna play rummy.”

“It's a children's game.”

“Well, it’s the only one I know how to play!” you exclaim, easily convincing him with a kiss on his cheek.

You realize playing games is not working very well because you shouldn’t see each other's cards, but that’s a very hard feature to achieve when you don’t want to move away from each other. Eventually, you also get tired of Donghyuck constantly cheating and just suggest that you watch a movie instead.

“Should we watch Monsters University?” you ask, leaning your head on his shoulder and he nods.

“Let’s go, Mike Wazowski!”

You move to the couch, complaining about being too uncomfortable for your butt, and at the end of the movie, you are both sprawled on his couch, with a blanket over you and your legs tangled. You see his eyes closed and smile at how tired he must be, but still chose to spend the night with you. He is close enough for you to nuzzle against his neck, making him stir at the sudden contact. You don’t smell his cologne, but the faint smell of your favorite lavender soap is there, making you smile against his neck.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He asks, running his hands from your nape down your spine.

“You owe me so many pennies.” You joke and he smiles. “I’m just thinking that I’m happy.”

Things didn’t happen the way you wanted from the beginning. You still feel like your life is a mess and sometimes you really think it will be the end soon. But you don't need to think that you’re alone anymore. Not when you have your friends. Not when you have him.

“I’m happy too.” He hums and a comfortable silence rests between you, the only sound is the music from the movie credits on the TV.

You think you are about to drift off to sleep, when Donghyuck stops his hands on the middle of your back and, because you're still nuzzled around his neck, you feel his pulse quickening. You hear him gulp a feel times before he has the courage to speak.

“There’s something that would make me happier.” He cautiously changes your positions, so he can face you when whispering the question he has been dying to ask and you have been dying to hear. “Do you wanna date me?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to say ‘no’ to you?” You kiss his cheek and he closes his eyes, feeling relieved already. “It’s especially unfair when you keep me so close like this.”

When you close the gap between you, holding his face tenderly and giving him the sweetest kiss he has ever tasted, he knows he has won. He definitely has. He moves, making you lie down under him, and as he kisses your neck, he says:

“All is fair in love and war, honey.”

Donghyuck has always tried to communicate with Jeno not only because they are childhood friends and roommates but because they also need privacy. Everybody does. So when Donghyuck tells his friend that he will be away for two days because of a conference, Jeno understands that he will have the apartment all to himself.

What Donghyuck doesn’t expect is to get an email as soon as he arrives at the airport telling him that the conference was canceled and he should head back to the office. He gets so mad that nothing would make him more happy than just killing his boss. He shouldn’t though, because he had promised to make you his trophy wife in five years, so he needs to get a promotion soon. He smiles, thinking of you, and decides to pick you up today.

Even after months of dating, he was still pretty much elated to say that he could pick up his girlfriend at work. His girlfriend. As soon as he pulls up in front of the office’s building, you send him a message.

[mike wasowski - 5:35 p.m] are you here already?

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] just got here babe.

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] ready?

[mike wasowski - 5:36 p.m] can you give me 15 more minutes?

[donghyuck - 5:36 p.m] i’ll be in the parking lot.

He smiles as he sees you exiting the building wearing a scowl. Oh, he was so ready for your work gossip. Your scrunched up face doesn’t last long, because you can’t help but smile when you see him waving at you. You run to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his lips tenderly, which is his favorite part.

“Hi, girlfriend.” He steals one more kiss from you, making you smile.

“Hi, boyfriend.” You smile, pushing him away from you and opening the car’s door. “Let’s go, I need to tell you what that bitch made me do today.”

That's how you spend the whole drive to his apartment, complaining about one of the managers that keeps making redo things, only to say that you’re slacking off and never get things done. ‘I could get things done if she didn’t keep asking me to solve problems that don’t even exist’, you would always say. He let you vent your pent up anger, so he would do the same about his coworkers.

You had finally found a job at a publishing house, a small one, and it wasn’t exactly the experience as a journalist that you wanted to have, but learning about publishing and editing is surely something positive and way more useful than working at a café like you used to. When life closes a door, it opens a window.

And your boyfriend is very proud of you not only for taking his advice and applying for your current job, but also for admitting that he is very smart. Donghyuck is smart in a lot of areas, it’s just that when it comes to you, he gets a little stupid. That’s why you get to his apartment and see something both of you shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

“WHAT THE FUCK, JENO?” Donghyuck screams and you run to the kitchen, thinking something bad happened. “NO BABE, DON’T COME, CLOSE YOUR EYES!” He puts his hands on your face before you can even understand what’s going on.

“WHAT THE FUCK, DONGHYUCK? YOU TOLD ME YOU’D BE AWAY FOR TWO DAYS.” Jeno screams back, hurriedly looking for his shirt to cover himself.

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WOULD BE BALLS DEEP INSIDE SOMEONE ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER!” You fight him, trying to take his hands off your face, but Donghyuck is faster than you. “Don’t try to look, what are you trying to look at?”

“Jeno, I-” The girl sitting on the counter looks mortified.

“I’m not trying to see anything, I’m trying to set free because you’re crushing my skull.” You keep moving, trying to fight him while Jeno and the girl are putting their clothes on.

“I know you’re tryna see Jeno naked. I’m your boyfriend, the only dick you’re allowed to see is mine.” He keeps his hand pressed against your eyes making you whine even more.

“Stop being a freak! You’re just pressing my eyes too aggressively.” You reach forward, trying to find his face. “And what about you? Uh? Are you trying to see Jeno’s girlfriend naked? I’m the only one you’re allowed to see naked.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” Both of them say at the same time, looking at each other sheepishly, while you and Donghyuck keep bickering at the kitchen's door.

“IF I CAN'T SEE JENO’S DICK, YOU CAN’T SEE HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS!” You say, accidentally slapping his face as you try to cover his eyes as well.

“Are you SLAPPING me because I won’t let you see JENO’S DICK?” Donghyuck complains.

“I SLAPPED YOU BECAUSE I CAN’T SEE SHIT, YOU MOTHERFUC-”

He cuts you off by kissing your lips and pushing you to the hallway, warning the ones left behind: “JUST CLEAN EVERYTHING WHEN YOU’RE DONE!”

Donghyuck thinks that the first step before turning you into his trophy wife is buying his own place.

#nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader #haechan scenarios

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months ago

Text

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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ghostfaceprincess · 6 months ago

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Them Cooking For You For The First Time:

TW: Language.

Michael Myers:

• I mean… he really did try.

• Surprisingly decent, it’s just a little burnt.

• He decided on steak and mashed potatoes.

• Hey, he’s proud of himself. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Freddy Krueger:

• Used his glove to cut up everything; and I do mean everything. The meat, the veggies, etc.

• He decided on chicken pasta with salad as a side.

• The pasta is cooked perfectly.

• He pairs it with a nice wine. 10/10.

Jason Voorhees:

• He… tried.

• It’s supposed to be spaghetti…

• Hey, the garlic bread is good though!

• Maybe you should do all the cooking and he’ll do the dishes.

Billy Loomis:

• He surprised you! The food is so good!

• He made chicken with mac and cheese, corn bread, and green beans.

• He did not make dessert though.

• He was hoping you could be dessert. 😏

Stu Macher:

• THIS MAN CAN COOK IDC WHAT ANYBODY HAS TO SAY

• A full meal plus dessert.

• Everything is cooked and seasoned perfectly.

• Yes, you heard me, s e a s o n e d.

Charles Lee Ray:

• He gave up before he even started.

• He ordered Chinese takeout and then plated it.

• He also paired it with beer.

• He didn’t think about dessert.

Tiffany Valentine:

• Oh, she went all out!

• She made you like four different meals and desserts to go with them.

• “I just wanted you to have options.” What a cutie!

• “The rest can just be meal prep!”

Bubba Sawyer:

• He made you the beeeeeest fucking soup you’ve ever had. Well, it’s more like a gumbo, but still.

• He made dessert as well; just classic chocolate chip cookies.

• He did ask his brothers for help.

• He smiles proudly as he presents it to you.

Thomas Hewitt:

• Did everything all on his own.

• Made ribs with fries.

• Literal 10/10.

• He knows how to add some flavor!

Art the Clown:

• Cook?

• Yeah, no. He gets take out and does not try to take credit for it.

• He does plate it very nicely though.

• Pats your head as he hands you your plate.

The Creeper:

• He let you pick what he made.

• And he did it perfectly too!

• There’s so much seasoning and flavor.

• Though, he can’t perfect all meals. Just this one and a few others.

Thanks for reading! 🦇🖤

#horror #slasher #slashers #horror movies #slasher imagine #michael myers #freddy krueger #jason voorhees #billy loomis #stu macher #charles lee ray #tiffany valentine #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #art the clown #the creeper #slasher imagines #x y/n

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rizlowwritessortof · 2 months ago

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Dangerous In More Ways Than One

Here we go, my first entry for @jacklesversebingo24 🥰 Prompt is 'Dangerous Suggestion.' Hope you enjoy!

Danger is sometimes just in your mind - but Dean is definitely danger of another kind.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1954

Warnings: None really, except Dean in a tux; fluff

The warmth of Dean’s hands seeps through the silky fabric of your dress as he holds your waist, kissing you without warning, and the shock steals your breath away. The deliberate clearing of a throat makes it all stop, both of you looking wide-eyed towards the sound.

“Sir, ma’am – sorry, but you’re not supposed to be in here.”

You don’t have to fake your blush, and Dean glances down at the floor with an embarrassed smirk, expertly fooling the security guard standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, man – we were, uh, just looking for a little privacy, and this door was unlocked, so we just…”

“I understand. But you’ll have to find your privacy elsewhere. This office should have been locked and off-limits.”

Dean nods and takes your hand, leading you out the door as the guard steps aside, and he apologizes once again for good measure as you follow him back to the banquet hall. He parks you next to the wall and bends to whisper in your ear. “Sorry about that. Had to think fast.”

Your eyes slide up to meet his for a second, then you stare back at the floor, unwilling to let him read you quite yet. You nod, responding quietly. “Yeah, of course. At least we didn’t get caught.”

He sighs in frustration. “Didn’t get what we were after, either. So we have to come up with a new plan.” He looks over at the buffet table, cocking an eyebrow at the tempting offerings there. “How about we grab some food and a drink, sit down and figure it out.”

You agree, relieved at the thought of getting off your feet. Your heels are killing you. “Sounds good to me.”

He slips an arm around you, and the muscles in your stomach clench as his hand rests possessively at your waist again. He looks incredible in his borrowed tux, and you are having thoughts that you normally batter into submission with focused research, beer and violence against evil creatures. Unfortunately, none of that is available at the moment, but a glass of champagne can’t hurt.

You claim one of the small tables scattered throughout the room, letting Dean play the gentleman and hold your chair as you sit. Who knew he had that in him? You take a gulp of the bubbly, pop a cheese puff into your mouth, and mentally remind yourself to guard your expression before looking up into those stunning green eyes. “So, now what?”

“Well…” he managed between chewing, “I think I should head for the bathroom.”

You laugh softly. “Okay. That’ll teach ‘em.”

“I mean as an excuse, smartass. I should go, look for an unlocked door so we can duck inside and wait until everybody clears out. Then we pick the lock again, grab that fucking cursed statue and we’re home free.” The amused smile is still on your face, and he can’t resist responding with a slow grin that makes your heart skip a little. “Well, that’s my suggestion. You got anything better?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I think that’s probably the best plan. So – go tinkle or whatever, I’ll guard your baby quiche.”

He stands up, narrowing his eyes at you. “Just so you know, I counted those.” You can’t help but giggle as he turns to go. The man is serious about his food.

He isn’t gone long, sits down and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Okay, we’re good. Just need to wait until the crowd thins out a little so we can get in there without Mall Cop catching us.” He glances down, then glares over at you. “You ate one of my quiche.”

People have finally started to leave, and you are so ready for this night to be over. You had taken as long as possible to eat, each had another drink, strolled around pretending to look at the art on display, but you are officially over wearing heels and trying to act like you fit in with this rich, pretentious crowd.

The guard Dean had dubbed ‘Mall Cop’ is busy manning the door as people leave, so now is as good a time as any to get yourselves settled in for the next hour or two until the place is empty. Dean guides you down the hall, a couple of doors down from the office you needed to get into later, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear.

“Ok, let’s go,” Dean says, his voice barely above a whisper. He opens the door, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as he urges you past him to the doorway. “Get in there before somebody sees us.”

You step around him, and your eyes grow wide as your hands fly out to brace on the sides of the door frame. “This is a bad idea.”

Dean’s voice hisses in your ear as he pushes you inside. “You agreed to it, sweetheart, now move.”

He squeezes in behind you, pulling the door closed quietly. It’s pitch black and there’s barely enough room for both of you in the tiny broom closet, which is luckily empty of all but a couple of brooms and a mop leaning in one corner. “I changed my mind. I hate your suggestion. It’s a very bad suggestion. A very bad, dangerous suggestion.”

Dean scoffs at your comment. “It’s not dangerous. As long as we’re quiet, they’re not gonna know we’re here. They’ll all clear out in an hour or so, and then we can hit Maitland’s office, get that damn statue and then we’re outta here.”

Your breathing is quickening, your heart beginning to pound. “It is dangerous. I can feel it.”

You feel his hand on your shoulder, his fingers trailing down the length of your bare arm as he chuckles softly. “Afraid to be in the dark with me?” His hand covers yours, and he freezes for a moment, feeling the trembling of your fingers beneath his. When he speaks, the tone of his voice is completely different. “Claustrophobia? But I thought you were okay with hiding out until...”

“I thought it would be a room. Like, a real room, a whole, big room with, you know, room and – and air. Lots and lots of air. Not a tiny death trap. We’re gonna get stuck in here, the walls are going to close in on me and I… I can’t breathe.” Even though you are whispering, your fear comes through loud and clear.

Dean moves both of his hands up to your upper arms, supporting you. “We’re not going to get trapped. All I have to do is open the door, there’s not even a lock on it. Okay?” His voice is gentle as he continues. “The walls aren’t going to close in on you.”

Your trembling continues, and each breath is coming in soft, desperate little whines. “I… can’t…”

He says your name quietly. “Do you trust me?” After a second, you nod, and he gives your arms a squeeze. “Okay. First of all, take off those ridiculous shoes. You need to get comfortable.”

You slip out of your heels, doing what he asks without question, and the cool floor on your bare feet is actually soothing.

“Okay, now just lean back into me.” He moves his hands to cover yours, bringing them up to rest at your waist. “Just relax, feel when I breathe and breathe with me. In – out. In – out. In – out.” His hands stay on yours, holding you in place, grounding you as he slowly guides you out of your panic.

You are tense at first, but gradually you lay your head back against his shoulder and relax against his firm chest, your body responding and your breathing syncing with his. Your quaking begins to calm, and Dean gives your hand a squeeze. “Better?”

You nod as you answer. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You draw in a shaky breath. “Just – talk to me. So I don’t have to think about where I am.”

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Anything.”

He blows out a breath. “Okay. So – you look amazing tonight.”

You let out a disbelieving little laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to distract me.”

He sputters a little as he answers. “No! Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I should have told you before, but when you came out in this slinky dress and those sexy high heels, I couldn’t get any words to come out. So, I’m telling you now.”

You blow out an incredulous breath. “I – didn’t think you even noticed how I look. Like, ever.” You tilt your head back as if you can look up at him, even though it’s too dark to see. “And you said my shoes were ridiculous.”

“Well, they are. I mean, they can’t be comfortable. But they are sexy, and when you walk, it kinda puts a little extra swing in your step, it’s – ah…” he clears his throat. “Yeah, sexy.”

“Women are used to being uncomfortable just to look good for men.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to. I mean, you always look good. Barefoot, in your old jeans, or those cute little cut-offs you wear sometimes. And that old sweatshirt that hangs off your shoulder, that’s good, too.” He leans down so he can speak softly in your ear. “Kinda makes me want to take a bite.”

You’re finding it hard to breathe again. “You’ve never even tried.”

“Well, maybe the time’s never been right. Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Wow. And I thought you could see right through me.”

“You’ve always kept your distance, and I thought that’s the way you wanted it.” His thumb is brushing over the soft skin of your hand.

“I thought that’s the way you wanted it. I didn’t think you were even interested in anything else.”

“Shhhhh,” Dean whispers, and you both go silent. Footsteps echo in the hall, then a voice right outside the door makes you jump.

“Did you check the bathrooms?” A distant ‘yeah’ came back in reply. “Good, then let’s get the hell out of here and go grab a beer.”

The footsteps retreat back the way they came, and you let out the breath you were holding. “Just a few minutes to make sure they’re gone,” Dean says softly, and you nod.

After a few long minutes have passed, he finally reaches behind him and opens the door. The dim nightlights in the hallway let you see your way out, and you take a deep breath. “This is much better.”

You start to take a step, but Dean takes hold of your hand and stops you, backing you into the wall.

“You still owe me for that quiche you stole,” he says, his eyes shining playfully. Then he bends to kiss you, gentle at first, then more hungrily as you grab at his jacket to tug him closer. When he finally lifts his head, you are both panting, his eyes searching yours as he waits for your reaction.

“I knew this was gonna be dangerous - in more ways than one,” you tease, and he grins, a touch of relief in his eyes.

“Danger is my middle name,” Dean quips in his best Austin Powers voice, and you giggle, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him again. You smile slyly up at him as you slide out from between him and the wall, heading towards the office that holds your target. “Hey,” he says, and you stop, turning to look at him. He holds out his hand, your shoes dangling from his fingers. “Don’t forget your ridiculous shoes.”

Tags for my lovelies:

@saenalife @deanscarlett @jensensgotyoudean @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

@geeklibrarian @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel

@darcia22 @winchesterprincessbride @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @deanslittleangel2y5

@melanie451 @spectaculacular-sammy @bookchic20 @jodyri @selma-jean-blog

@savingapplepie-eatingthings @kittenofdoomage @masked-maiden42 @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain

@undecided-garden @ceeceewinchester @typicalweirdbookworm @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @youtoldalie

@tanithlowisabamf-blog @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic

@kreweofimp @gabavaldman @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @darkx143 @disassociativedogma

@ioanashalala @jencharlan @deansthirstblog @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1

@winchestersandwordprocessors @percussiongirl2017 @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @torn-and-frayed

@sandlee44 @wingedcatninja @evansrogerskitten @emoryhemsworth @peaceinourtime82

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @sarcasmqueen74 @maliburenee @mrsjenniferwinchester @yeehawbitchs

@emily-winchester @hobby27 spnbaby-67 @zepskies @ladysparkles78

@alwaystiredandconfused @just-another-busyfangirl @muhahaha303 @deansimpalababy @kr804573

@suckitands33 @ej13928 @lmhf1

#dangerous in more ways than one #jacklesversebingo24 #dean fic #dean fluff #caretaker!dean

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multifandomworldsposts · 1 year ago

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Day 14 of Kinkmas: In A Boat With Arthur Curry

Pairing: Arthur Curry x fem!reader

Warning: unprotected sex, hickeys

Y/N’s POV

Arthur has been wanting me to go on his new boat that he recently purchased and he’s just over the moon by it so I’m excited to get on it and see what’s going on with it!

“You like it?” He whispers in my ear while I look at the boat.

“I love it! It looks so cool!” I answer.

When we got on the boat Arthur gave me a tour. There’s seats in the front, the steering wheel on the boat looks interesting, there’s a bed in the boat, there’s a bar, and a really cool refrigerator at the bar. I’m excited what’s going to happen in the future with this boat.

“You wanna do a test drive?” He asks getting comfortable sitting on a chair that’s for the captain.

“Sure! Lead the way captain.” I say.

I can tell he likes that answer by him grinning.

He drives us around the ocean and I look out to see the ocean and it looks beautiful, some of the islands I saw that I’ve never seen before looked beautiful. I walk around to see other angles of the ocean and I went to see what Arthur is doing. When he realizes me, he reaches out to me so I can hug him while looking out to see the water.

“How do you feel about the view?” He says focusing on the water.

“It’s amazing, I’ve never been in this section of the ocean before, I love it Art.” I say looking at the view and then Arthur.

“I’m glad you like it, I wanna show you something.” He says driving into a small cove.

When we get into the cove and Arthur stops the boat and drops the anchor. I get confused, I didn’t see any food for a picnic. I don’t know what’s going on?

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“Let’s go somewhere private.” He whispers in my ear.

He walks down to a door that leads to the bed, I already know what’s going to happen. I follow him but he goes to bar and gets some champagne for me and some beer for him and pours them in glasses and gives me the champagne.

“Thank you.” I say taking the glass away from Arthur.

“I hope you’re liking what you’ve seeing out of the water.” He says drinking his beer.

“I love it and I was actually looking at you half of the time.” I say getting closer to him.

“Oh really? I never noticed.” He says looking down at me.

“You were paying attention to the water I believe.” I say.

He does this smirk. He begins to kiss me, I kiss him back, we both go to the bed together but we’re still kissing. We lay down on the bed which is so comfortable. Arthur takes his clothes off and helps me taking mine off.

We kiss again, he gives me pecks on my body, I kinda giggle but I gasp. I can feel him laughing on my skin but it makes me giggle again.

Eventually, we begin to have sex. I scratch his back by him going in and out of me. I scream by him fucking me hard and I can feel the bed shaking and banging on the wall. He eventually gives me hickeys. I give him some as well but I can tell someone is going to make fun of him by the scratches on him and the hickeys.

10 MINUTES LATER

We’re laying on the bed heavy breathing. That felt so nice to be honest. I want to do this again sometime, that was different than what we normally do.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kinkmas 2023 #kinkmas #arthur curry smut #arthur curry #jason momoa x reader #jason momoa imagines #jason momoa smut #jason momoa #dc #dc imagine #dc vs marvel

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for-a-longlongtime · 9 months ago

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V. Sometime Around Midnight

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Marcus Pike

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Words: 839 A/N: This one took a while to figure out, so I appreciate y'all hanging in there - and all the love you've been spreading about this little series. For everybody who voted to see Marcus x Tim in this chapter (the poll currently is a tie!): don't worry, Tim will be here next time! This is unbeta-ed, dividers by @saradika.

< Previous Part

“Tell me about him.” Frankie bites into his taco, narrowly avoiding the spill of the salsa that drops dangerously close past his shirt. It’s 1 am, and at this point he can’t even recall how long it had been since he’d met up with Marcus at the air force base that morning. Exhaustion sits heavy in his bones as fragments of the day flit through his mind.

Their messes in that helicopter, quickly cleaned up with his hoodie. Driving silently to his apartment with a quick stop at Walgreens for condoms, lube and refreshments. All of that falling to the floor when he backed Marcus up against the front door, so eager to kiss him again - and for a brief, mad moment actually considering to fuck him right there.

The slippery trail from the shower to his bed, sheets immediately damp from their wet bodies because finally - finally - he got to map all of Marcus’ body with his mouth, fingers, tongue, teeth. Hear the whimpering turn to moaning, begging, urging, until Marcus cried out his name eventually when he came. Not far behind, Frankie had tried to keep it down - trying to prevent a noise complaint from the neighbors -, which he only managed with his face buried against Marcus’ shoulder, coming harder than he’d had in months.

There had been cold drinks to share on the balcony, some snacks he found around the apartment, and the view of Marcus dressed in a pair of Frankie’s boxers - which turned out to be a lot more distracting than Frankie had expected it to be. Marcus hadn’t just been easy to chat to; he was fun to be around. Enthusiastic and animated, whether it was about food or art or travel; he easily talked about all kinds of things without it being too much chatter.

Perhaps what Frankie liked most of all was that Marcus didn’t try to fill any silences. He didn’t seem to mind that Frankie was introverted, didn’t try to push anything, and didn’t ask invasive questions about the time Frankie had served, leaving it up to him to offer whatever information he wanted. That was something Frankie wasn’t quite used to. He wasn’t used to spending this much time around new people without feeling the urge to withdraw, to call it a day and unwind with some quiet time. Instead he found himself here, well after midnight, next to a food truck with tacos and beers. Asking about the one subject that hadn’t quite come up yet.

Marcus swallows a bite of his food. “Tim? What do you want to know?”

Frankie shrugs, tugging at the damp label on the beer bottle with his nail. “You mentioned you’ve been seeing each other for about a year and a half,” he says eventually, not quite sure what it is he wants to know about Tim. “You guys serious, or casual, or…”

“Or?”

Frankie laughs softly, shaking his head. He didn’t expect that to get turned on him; most people would’ve just filled in the blank with their own answer. “Or something else. You tell me.”

“If you’re wondering why else we’re fucking other people…”

“No,” he says after a moment as he leans back in his chair, not missing how Marcus’ eyes track the movement, lingering on his biceps for a long moment. “If so, I would’ve asked that.”

“Yeah. You would’ve.” A smile plays over Marcus’ face as he nods. “Tim and I are serious, yes. But when we decided on that, we wanted to be realistic and leave some room for options. Nothing wrong with being into people other than your partner.”

Frankie thinks about it for a moment. “Neither of you get jealous?”

“Can’t, really. If things get too complicated, it doesn’t work, so we’re just open about everything.” Marcus hesitates for a moment, then continues. “We don’t really see anyone more than three times tops. To avoid getting attached.” The last words are surprisingly softer than the others.

“Mmm. So you get to see me one more time.” Frankie is not going to be coy about it. Spending such a long day together, and having fucked four times meant there was no mistake about the mutual interest. That last time Frankie had woken up from an evening nap, with Marcus still asleep against him, cock hard and leaking on Frankie’s thigh. Instead of feeling self conscious about his own refractory period, Frankie had woken him with a slow, lazy blowjob and then took his time to make Marcus fall apart under his hands one more time. “That’s how it works for you.”

“If you want to-...”

“Shut up, you know the answer.” Frankie laughs as he grabs Marcus by his shirt, tugging him over for a deep kiss. Lips tasting sweet from the pork and pineapple salsa, a hint of beer still. “You know I like you.”

Three more weeks. He’s stationed here in LA for three more weeks, with only one more opportunity to see Marcus.

That’s gonna become a problem.

Main masterlist | < Previous part Follow @longlongtime-updates for fic updates!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales #marcus pike #triple frontier #frankie morales x marcus pike #marcus pike x frankie morales #francisco morales x marcus pike #marcus pike x francisco morales #Youtube

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tekia · 8 months ago

Text

Sun Blind

I commissioned @meredithmcclaren! She was a pleasure to work with and produces some of my favorite art! (I got my character drawn by @meredithmcclaren!!!!! omg how cool is that??(◕ᗜ◕))

Najma closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

In the shade offered by the balcony above her, she stamped her feet and stretched her arms, twisting her back and bending her knees. She had ran around the arena twice before arriving at the entrance, and her skin was pleasantly flushed, her body loose. Her bare toes dug into the dry dirt under her feet, the bite of the marble stone walkway bisecting her foot, cold and rough compared to the fine grain of the dirt in the arena.

Cheers and cries of merchants filled the air around her as the people gathered in the stands awaited the show. Children laughed at the antics of the fools now dancing for their entertainment. Drunkards shouted for more wine and beer. Somewhere, one woman’s boisterous laugh carried over the rest. Horns trumpeted in the distance as a foot race concluded, and a cheer went up as the victor celebrated.

Najma tried to ignore it all as she shook out her arms. She bounced on the balls of her feet, balanced delicately on that edge of marble.

“Najma,” her brother called softly from just beside her, and her eyes popped open.

“What are you doing here?”

Zilan smiled slightly, his dark hair blowing in his face as a breeze picked up, carrying with it the scents of fried foods, unwashed bodies, and animal. Najma shivered at the scent of angry bull.

“I’ve come to wish you luck.” He held out a length of ribbon, brightly dyed and thin. She peered at it happily until he motioned for her to turn. She presented her back to him and felt him tying the ribbon into her tightly bound hair. The tips of the ribbon only just brushed her shoulders once he was done.

“I love the color,” she said, picking up the end and eyeing it. It wasn’t an expensive ribbon, but Zilan surely knew how likely she was to ruin it today, perhaps even lose it. But it was the thought that counted.

Red for luck.

She turned back to him, smiling up at him.

He had always been taller than her, as far back as her first memories, when he held her clutched in his arms, his heart pounding loudly against her ear as she cried for their parents. It had been so cold back then, in the dark and rain.

She shivered again, and he reached out and rubbed his hands down her arms. “You’re ready for this.”

“Mn,” she agreed. “I know I am.” Her heart was pounding as loud as his had on the night they lost their home, for a reason so far removed that she couldn’t hold the sadness in her heart.

She knew the sadness of their loss was never far from her brother’s thoughts, something that kept him going in troubled times, but he tried for her. He smiled at her confidence and nodded.

“I’ll be watching from up there,” he said, pointing above their heads. She bit her lip.

Up there, the rich could afford seats under a shade and servants to bring them food from the market without them having to brave the crush. She and Zilan were certainly not wealthy enough to place among them.

Their parents had been simple folk, weavers by trade, dead these past eleven years. They had escaped the raging waves of the untamed river that had swollen with freezing waters into the city with only the clothes on their backs with the other displaced peoples of the flood. Just a pair of orphans among the dozens of others, lost into the crowd of poor and hungry.

Zilan had been old enough to become an apprentice, and clever enough to hide his sister in his little room permitted to him by his master that they had survived, but Najma had to wonder how much of their luck was due to hard work and how much of it was due to Zilan’s loose morals.

She had seen him come home far too often beaten and bloodied.

He patted her shoulder and shook his head. “Just focus on your performance today.”

She nodded. “Be careful up there with the lofty types, hum? They’re far more dangerous than any thief with a knife in the dark alley.”

“And you beware of the horn!” He pinched her cheek like she was still a child. Whinging like a child, she pulled away, batting at his hand.

“I know Sap well! He will not harm me!”

Laughing and shaking his head, Zilan left to take his seat as horns within the arena sounded. Najma returned to her preparations, stretching and bouncing on her toes.

She wore little clothes, so as not to have anything that might catch and pull. She had bits of cloth wrapped around the length of her feet, leaving her heel and toes free. Her hair had been pulled up, secured with pins and ribbons. Beside her, two other young women also prepared for their own performances. Dressed similarly, the three of them were a little troupe of dancers that knew no rivals in the city.

The oldest of them was Selika, dark and tall. She was well muscled and limber, and had been dancing their dance since she was a child, as her father had been a master in his own time. Najma was only two years younger than her, and the third girl was much younger, coming only up to Najma’s shoulder, and Najma wasn’t tall at all.

Salima had been sold to Selika’s father as a serving maid when her mother died and her father found he didn’t have it in him to care about a girl child that couldn’t work the fields. Selika’s father was a decent man that raised Salima as his own, giving her his family name, and teaching her alongside Selika. When Najma appeared to watch the girls practice, the man had easily drew her into the lessons until she was a part of the little troupe as if she were their sister, too.

He had died two years ago, a cough that wouldn’t go away, so Selika had taken over the training, while their cousin, Atam, insisted on taking over the business end of her father’s business.

He wasn’t as decent. Salima now lived with Najma, and Selika hoarded away as much money as she could, out of his hands.

Salima jumped into the air, touching the tips of her fingers to her toes in the air, and a few children spotted her, cheering at the display of skill. Salima landed, her arms thrown up into the air, posed just right, back arched, feet planted. A louder cheer went up.

Two fools came running back toward them.

“Let’s go,” Selika said, then ran out into the arena. Najma followed, and she could feel Salima behind her.

Two steps out of the shade, the sun bore down on them and sweat beaded on her brow, but she ignored it all in favor of leaping into the air, her hands landing with a dull thud in the dirt. She shoved back to her feet, into another flip, and a third, hands nearly touching her heels with every flip.

She caught glimpses of Selika doing a similar trick, higher into the air than herself. Then she stopped just in time for Najma to flip onto her shoulders. She caught her balance and held her pose as Salima lightly skipped onto her back. She touched a hand to Najma’s shoulder, and Najma gripped her leg and lifted her into the air.

Salima waved to the crowd, drawing more cheers, before Najma dropped her leg and caught her by her arm pits and then let her to the ground. Selika threw her into the air, and Najma twisted into a spiral before landing sideways in her arms.

“Good,” Selika commented before setting her on her feet. Najma nodded to her before bouncing back into motion, kicking up into the air to the cheers around them.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Twist. Land and tumble under Salima’s flip. Climb Selika’s knee and flip. Catch Salima and throw. Pose. And breathe.

She looked over the crowd, but there were so many people she couldn’t quite tell one face from another, and the balcony was facing the sun.

Who had decided to make them face the sun?

She glanced at Selika and saw that she was also worried about the sun. Under the balcony, Najma could just make out the shape of Atam as he opened Sap’s pin, but the bull that exited wasn’t Sap.

He was an unfamiliar bull, and Najma stiffed as fear coursed down her spine. The bull scuffed the ground, his snorts sending up a plum of dust.

“That’s not Sap!” Salima cried, her voice high with terror.

“Salima,” Selika snapped. “You stay out of his sight.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You stay out of his sight. Keep the crowd entertained and distracted with your flips and tumbles.”

“Yes, xwişk.”

“Najma-”

“Let me do it.”

“You-”

“He’s too short for you. You’ll get injured if he tosses his head. I can do it.”

Selika sighed. “Okay. I’ll dance.”

Grimly nodding her head. Najma ran forward. She knew Selika would be running just beside her. Salima would be sure to flip around to the back of the bull where he couldn’t see her and would hopefully forget about her.

The first pass the two girls dodged his wide horns as he charged, and each flipped in a different direction as the bull turned to face them again.

From around her waist, Najma tugged free the red pennant that would draw the bull’s attention to her alone. With the dust and dirt in the air, the red wasn’t as vibrant as in the fields just outside the city, but the size and fluttering nature of the fabric was enough to keep him distracted.

Selika kept pace with her as she raced toward the bull again, but once more they diverged when the bull swung wildly. Too dangerous to trust.

Panting, Najma knew that they’d couldn’t keep it up. Two flips was the standard. Najma daren’t go for more. Sap would have tolerated it, but this unknown bull was dangerous. Where did he even come from?

The third pass arrived and the bull lowered his head just right. Najma felt Selika break off as she caught the bull by the horns and threw herself into the air, feet over her head, body twisting as the bull tossed his head, shoving her farther up into the air. Silently cursing, she released the horns and touched her feet to his spine before quickly skipping off into a second flip.

That wasn’t elegant or smooth, she thought as she landed on her knee, quickly tumbling to her feet and dodging out of the raging beast’s path. Selika distracted the bull only momentarily before he was once more charging at Najma.

He was too close. The sun was directly in her eyes.

Huffing, Najma nodded to herself and met him head on again. He swung his head the wrong direction, and, had she time, she would have broke off, but they were too close. She heard Salima cry out.

Launching herself into the air, she landed on her hands on the bull’s shoulders, felt his horn brush her thigh, but shoved off just as quickly and landed on the ground, knees bent to absorb the impact.

There was blood dripping down her inner thigh, but it was done.

She did a back flip in place then looked to the bull.

She had dropped the red pennant on the last jump, and the bull had mauled it into the dirt. Selika was flipping off to one side, headed toward the shelter of the balcony. Salima was already in the shade behind the stone guard that surrounded the arena.

Najma quickly made her way out of the arena amid the cheers. Panting, she stopped beside Salima. “Are you alright?”

“Mn, he didn’t come near me.”

She reached out and patted her hair. “Good. That was dangerous.”

“You still did it.”

She nodded. “It was too late for all of us to back out. Never jump over an unknown bull, Salima. You saw how he tossed me the first time and then gouged me the second?”

Salima looked down at the blood on her leg. “That looks painful.”

“If it was painful, she wouldn’t have done it,” Selika’s cousin sneered, snapping a rope in his hands. “What a pathetic display.”

Selika stepped between them, glaring at her cousin. “Where is Sap?”

Atam shrugged. “I sold him. He cost too much to feed.”

“What?!” The three girls shouted in unison. Najma and Salima gaped at Atam while Selika fought to keep the rage out of her voice.

“How dare you? He was my bull!”

Atam waved a hand and turned away. “And the money I got for him will pay your rent.”

“In my father’s house?”

“And for your upkeep,” he went on, ignoring her. “Next time, I expect to see a better show.” He snapped at the arena. “And get that bull back into the pin so I can return him to his owner.”

He left them, and Najma could only reach out and rest a hand on Selika’s shoulder.

Salima leaned against her own shoulder. “How are we supposed to get him back in the pin?”

Selika shook her head, looking lost and afraid. Najma didn’t know what to say, and when she turned to wrap her arm around Salima, she spotted her brother standing farther inside the shelter, his arms over his chest and glaring at Atam as the man walked away.

She shivered at the hatred and anger in his eyes. She hadn’t seen that look since the day they discovered that the district governor had been the one to order the dam upriver from their family’s village to be destroyed.

That governor was now dead through unknown causes.

She met Zilan’s eye and shook her head. His eyes narrowed then he moved away, disappearing into the shadows, out of her sight.

#original character #ttrpg character #comissioned art #original work #original fiction #2k words

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somniuslucis · 3 months ago

Text

uh…

Look, all I’m saying is think about:

cowboy! art growing up amongst ranch hands and animals and being oh-so down-to-earth and self-assured.

Art grew up bull-riding on weekends and playing tennis as a pastime and fell in love with the sport so much that he kept up with it and went off to Stanford on a tennis scholarship where he met Frat Boy! Patrick.

Patrick, the tennis player, who grew up with his parents being filthy rich, and yet he has no desire for their financial support and is so sure about making a name for himself.

Patrick has always been too smug for his own good and still gets away with his crude jokes and has girls and guys chasing after him left and right. Patrick can always be found at the loud frat parties chatting up someone with a beer in hand and just being obnoxiously drunk.

Patrick, who has taken a keen interest in Art since the first day of practice because he can see just how tight Art is wound. Patrick knows just how to get under Art’s skin and pushes all the right buttons to annoy him after they get paired as doubles partners.

All their squabbling and jabs come to a head one day when Patrick happens to make a joke about Art’s grandma that hits a little too close to home and results in some bloodied knuckles and a busted lip or two.

Patrick’s laughing in his face like a douche, back flat on the earth with Art hovering over him when both boys get yelled at by their coach to go deal with their issues off the court and end up suspended from practice for a week.

Both boys somehow make the turn to friendly play and banter and suddenly it’s like they’ve known each other all their lives. Everyone’s surprised at the 180 the pair have made in their relationship, and Art and Patrick are inseparable practically from day 1 of their friendship.

Unfortunately for Art, Patrick’s proximity starts to unveil some feelings Art had originally chopped up to annoyance…like knowing just when Patrick is starting to teeter on the bad side of irritation in practice, or how Patrick’s overbearing cologne and deodorant is starting to have a soothing effect when Art’s stressed.

Even more so, Art starts to notice how hot under the collar he gets after hearing Patrick’s grunts during particularly challenging practices, how fit Patrick is in his sleeveless tennis shirts, or how he enjoys being able to smell Patrick on his clothes after Pat’s borrowed his shirt for a night out.

One day, Patrick suggests Art takes him out to a rodeo fair that’s come to town. “Come on, Art. It’ll be like a guy’s night and you can show me all the hot barrel racers! You owe me after getting you into the last house party” Patrick pleads and how can Art say no when Patrick’s making that face?

They’re having a great time watching the shows, with the occasional remark about how “dude, I’d totally let a bull rider hit” that makes heat flood Art’s face and down his chest. They take breaks in between shows to inhale fair food and beer until both are a little past buzzed.

Patrick’s using Art as a means of not eating shit face first, with an arm slung around his shoulders and tucking his face into the space of Art’s neck while trying to stay upright. Art has to excuse himself to throw their trash away (and calm himself down because he’s got Patrick fucking Zweig hanging onto him like an octopus) before coming back and guiding them both back to the car.

Art’s trying to balance Patrick’s weight in one arm, heat rising to his ears and Patrick’s breath keeps ghosting his neck, and trying to maneuver the passenger door open and suddenly Patrick’s crowding him with his back up against the car door.

Pat’s nosing up against his cheek and Art’s shaking, trying to make sense of what’s happening while his brain is short-circuiting with Pat’s thigh pressing up in between his legs.

Art keeps telling Patrick they should get home and how Patrick’s just drunk in between groans and whimpers and whines as Patrick’s leaving tiny wet kisses up his throat. He can hear Patrick groan in his ear before he says “Just trying to save a horse. Watching those riders had me thinking… you should show me how it’s done. Why don’t you give it a shot and ride me instead?”

#I AM SO SORRY #PLZ FORGIVE ME #I know this is poorly written but I just needed to get it out of my mind #this is also the first time I’ve written something #artrick #patrick x art #tyti writes #tita writes #sorry this is so long #I am procrastinating on writing about the knee joint

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dantesdickferno · 9 months ago

Text

amaretto

Miguel/Reader | Explicit | Chapter 1/?

a/n: I brought this blog back from the dead to post this so I hope y’all enjoy. Gonna be a few chapters but not sure how many yet. Femdom reader, Bartender Miguel basically. Horny and angsty modern NYC AU, no powers. Bit of a slow burn (ish). Enjoy lol

***

The Basilica is, for all intents and purposes, a mediocre bar.

There’s a pothole steps away from the bar’s entrance that customers have to maneuver past in kitten heels and designer sneakers, and the embossed metal sign at the front of the door is almost completely covered in rust. It’s clearly an establishment that’s too pretentious to be a dive bar, but not exactly up to code enough to be an upscale cocktail bar either.

Recent attempts to rebrand the place as a hole-in-the-wall speakeasy have been successful, meaning that it’s now the common haunt for every art history graduate student, Bauhaus enthusiast, and unattainably gorgeous bisexual poet in lower Manhattan who’s willing to spend 17 dollars on a drink.

You stumble across the small chipped navy blue door after a brutal day at work. The patrons at the luxury handbag store you have the distinct displeasure of interacting with were particularly snippy today, and your pair of not-yet-broken-in oxfords feel more like a prison than a fashion statement at the moment. You need a drink to help forget the past ten hours ever happened just so you can do it all over again tomorrow. You’ve never heard of this place, but you don’t feel like getting on the subway just yet and looking for a bar that’s closer to home. This vaguely sketchy place will have to do.

The cozy interior of The Basicilia smells of cigar smoke and melting wax. Lit partially by candlelight, the brick walls and small antique cherrywood tables feel distant, yet homey. There are large gothic-style lanterns hanging from the low ceiling, and servers expertly move through the crowd carrying stainless steel trays full of thick-cut fries and bowls of green olives.

Despite the bar being relatively full, only one other person is sitting at the actual bar when you approach it—everyone else appears to be relegated to the various tables and benches strewn about the space, or hugging the walls holding glasses of craft beer.

With all of the fuss that sitting down on a stool, pulling off your winter coat, and hanging your things on a hook underneath the bar causes, it takes you a moment for you to see him.

But you do.

There’s a blur of movement in the corner of your vision as a tall man in a black button-down with rolled-up sleeves vaults over the bar wall and stalks over to the other end of the restaurant before knocking on a solid black door with the sole of his boot.

“Hey! You awake in there? They need help running food!” The man shouts, not waiting for a response before rushing back across the room and climbing back into the bar.

The sound draws a few eyes, but no one appears to be shocked—it seems to be a common occurrence here, judging by the way the person who appears to be the manager steps out of the previously kicked door looking bleary-eyed and sheepish, a pair of noise-canceling headphones around his neck and a set of keys jangling at his belt.

But your attention has been drawn elsewhere.

The man is tall enough to reach for a bottle of Belvedere vodka on the top shelf to hand to a nearby barback without straining. You notice his hands first—broad, veiny, with nails cut down to the bone. There’s a bandage wrapped around the middle finger on his left hand. A smattering of hair on his triceps, which are all muscle and sinew. And two tattoos—-a fang on his right bicep, and a bundle of marigolds on his left forearm. He leans onto the bar table to address you, his button-down snug around his chest.

Jesus fucking christ. If you had a drink you would certainly spill it.

“What are you getting,” he says—his voice raw from shouting, you assume—and his voice trends downward at the end of the sentence, as if he doesn’t want to ask you, as if it isn’t a question. You can’t even pretend to be offended—working in the service industry is a thankless task, and you know that well enough. But even you can admit that the level of tension in his jaw and the shuttered look in his eyes is disconcerting in a way that has to do with more than the fact that he presumably hates his job.

“A mojito, please,” you say, with less confidence than you’d normally have. You’re used to sitting at bars alone and making conversation with the bartenders, but tonight doesn’t seem to be going in that direction.

“A mojito?” The man repeats, and you know it’s the wrong choice somehow. Other than an almost imperceptible eye roll, he nods, turning his back to you to grab the right ingredients.

Still. It makes you curious.

“What’s wrong with a mojito?” you ask, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. It’s like his entire being is on constant guard, waiting for the other shoe to drop–you can see it in the way he turns back to look at you, his jaw set as he sets down a collins glass and starts picking damp mint sprigs out of a chilled metal container.

“First time here?” he says, and again, it isn’t a question. He places the mint leaves on a paper towel to dry before rubbing them on the rim of the collins glass and putting them in a separate pint glass.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with a mojito?” Normally you’d take your cue from the bartender and quit trying to make conversation, but something about him makes you want to poke and meddle, like touching a live wire with the tip of your finger.

“Nothing.”

“I won’t get offended. Is this one of those ‘what your drink of choice says about you’ things?” you probe, leaning onto the bar top. The other conversations seem to fade to a lull in the background of your mind, your sights set on tormented brown eyes and tense, broad shoulders.

“No.”

“Because that kind of seems like what this is—”

“No.”

“Then what is it? If you don’t mind me asking. I hope I’m not committing a major bar crime, or something.” He clearly minds, and the sigh he lets out is nothing short of torturous sounding, but he seems to indulge you anyway. You briefly register his hands reaching for various cups and bottles at an even tempo, his movements intentional as he makes your cocktail. He crushes mint and lime and sugar together with a blunt tool before opening a carafe of ice. A shiver runs through you, completely against your will, as you watch him work. You’ve always had a soft spot for competence.

“It’s more of a practical thing,” he explains, and you settle onto your stool, sensing a tangent incoming. “Mojitos aren’t complicated to make, but they take time. They have a lot of moving parts. And then once one person orders it, I get ten more people who saw me making it asking for it too, and I have to start the process over again. And then more people order it, and next thing you know I’m making mojitos for the rest of the night.”

“So when I ask for mojitos at other bars and they say they’re out of mint, are they lying?” you tease. He places your drink in front of you then, topping it off with a mint spring and a lime wedge at the rim of the glass.

“...Every bartender hates you,” he says in response, leaning in, and you give him a soft smile, sipping from the glass. It’s one of the best drinks you’ve ever had.

There isn’t an ounce of enjoyment to be seen in his eyes, or in the shadows of his face. But you swear you see a flicker of something there, like something that has long since lain dormant coming back to life—if only for a second–before it dissipates.

“What’s your name?” you ask, pushing your luck. Any spark that had once been lit is extinguished. He backs away, the lanterns from overhead casting shadows across his features that make him look like a stranger again. You silently curse yourself.

“I don’t do that,” he shakes his head, before venturing to the other end of the bar to help a seemingly new bartender whip up a martini. You wait patiently, watching the way his mouth moves and his hands gesture as he corrects the bartender on their…technique, or something. You have no idea. From afar, he looks equally as intimidating, if not more so. The lines of his body don’t indicate any kind of softness, and his shoulders are slightly hunched as if he’s ashamed of himself. You wonder if he does bicep curls in a concrete room for hours until he sweats out all of the vulnerability. Or maybe he runs from it, in the early morning, breath labored and lungs aching until his sneakers are worn out.

“You don’t do names?” you ask him as soon as he returns, and his time he doesn’t even pretend to hide his exasperation, rolling his eyes again before resting his elbows on the bar so that his face is inches away from yours. Your heart lurches. A quick glance around rewards you with a few of the patrons regarding you with a vague amount of interest—and concern.

“Listen. I’m not a therapy session bartender,” he says with enough disdain to cause your eyebrows to raise in surprise. “I like the theory of it. The drink making. That’s it. Talk to that guy,” he continues, gesturing to a fellow bartender with a man bun and gauges who’s currently chatting up the only other person sitting on the other end of the bar. “He’s chatty.”

This close-up, you can see the dark circles around his eyes, his slightly chapped lips. You get a brief urge to trace the wrinkles across his forehead with the pads of your fingertips, but you hold off, of course. The man seems like he’s too old for anyone. He’s lived a million lifetimes.

“I don’t want to talk to that guy,” you say, feeling emboldened. I want to talk to you. “No offense.”

Something in his expression flickers back to life once more, like a butterfly trying to fly without one of its wings.

“Miguel,” he says after a while, sounding pained. You tell him your name, and he gives no indication that he’s registered it.

“Do you wanna open a tab, or close it?” Miguel asks then, and his voice sounds weightier.

“...Keep it open.”

***

The bar is sweltering, but the cold, sour tang of the mojito keeps you cool as you watch Miguel make his way across the bar to help mix drinks for other patrons. You feel pinned to your stool somehow, like a bug under a microscope, even though Miguel doesn’t spare another glance in your direction. The music in here is alright, but not noteworthy. You wish you had someone to dance with.

The bartender with the man bun makes you another mojito before you can say otherwise, but it tastes different somehow. Too much mint maybe. Not enough bitterness. Miguel’s theory seems to be wrong; you scan the bar for other tall glasses with sprigs of bright green mint and find none. After brief consideration, you decide not to bother him any further by informing him of this fact.

The bar gets increasingly more crowded as the night goes on, and it becomes abundantly clear that Miguel isn’t going to check on you again. You want to believe it’s because he’s too busy, but you wonder if you made the wrong impression somehow. You wonder why you care. You hate that you do.

You settle your tab and gather your things before buttoning your coat and setting off into the night. Your two drinks have muddled your senses just so, but not enough to be completely disorienting. On the precipice of happy, maybe.

As you zip your coat up to your chin and walk down the sidewalk, you think about going home to your studio apartment and cuddling with your cat Cinnamon. You think about hopefully getting a few hours of sleep before the workday comes back around in the morning to swallow you whole once again. You think about the harsh line of Miguel’s jaw, about the fact that he’ll likely forget about you come morning.

“Every bartender hates me,” you repeat to yourself—a truly harrowing fact—before shaking your head and walking down the steps into the subway.

a/n: lmk if you enjoyed/if you wanna see more—mwah x

#dom reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fic #atsv fandom #across the spid #sub miguel o'hara

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galesdevoteewife · 5 months ago

Note

Right back at you! Could you tell us about their wedding ? 8, 18 and 19 🥰

Hello hello!! Thanks for dropping the ask!! Loved to do more Wedding prompts!! ✨✨

8. Traditions - The overall ceremony was a much simplified version of the traditional Dekarios ones. Many customs involves seeking good luck and my HC Gale snorted at and skipped lots of them. "All that's needed are the right words, gestures and substance components." type of Gale who would ignore the regulations and superstitions.

It still serves as both family gatherings and singles mixers as the traditional ceremonies do.

Dekarios family dances and ice-breaking games.

The rings followed Waterdeep traditions.

All the traditions are from Dekarios or Waterdeep. In my world Menzoberranzan don't have this type of weddings.

18. I Now Pronounce You... - Zilvera inherits Gale's family name, becoming Zilvera Dekarios and Mrs. Dekarios. Gale smiles every time he reads or hears someone call her that way. Zilvera likes how it links their name like a pair, although she rarely introduces herself with the surname. Just in case, because she wouldn't want to stain its reputation on her behalf.

19. Guests -

🎶People were chatting, playing, dancing, singing, drinking, eating, mingling 🪕

A group of children made a bouquet for the bride using the flower decoration on the table. "We think you are beautiful," the brave boy holding the flowers at the front said nervously with blushing cheeks.

Astarion was flirting with the most innocent-virgin-looking cousin.

Shadowheart set up a drinking contest with bets, and made a fortune out of it. She can hold her wine and she skillfully cheated.

Lae’zel was bored until Shadowheart persuaded her to start a martial arts arena: "Shouldn't a true warrior be able to win with any weapon?" Contestants chose food from the table as their weapon. The loser would have to eat the food afterward. Baguette was a popular choice. SH again made her coin purse even heavier. "My animals need to eat, and I am a responsible owner." She said with a glass of wine in her hand.

Elminster was there. Gale was playing cool but he was thrilled inside. He opened a precious wine for his idol and Elminster played along as if he was here because he wouldn't want to miss the wine. Only El knew the true reason of his visit, the old wizard has always been a mystery.

The ceremony moved Wyll to tears. The magically chilled beer moved Karlach to tears. They both missed the food and air so much.

There were piles of wedding gifts.

Barcus and some of his gnome friends, from Ironhand and from Gondians, attended. He brought her a very fancy firework show as wedding gift. The gnome's visit was also a business trip; they planned to expend their business in Waterdeep.

Zilvera looked at Barcus with an arched eyebrow. He stood there stiffly, posing like a scarecrow. "Are you trying to give me a hug?" "I just feel like it’s appropriate for the occasion. You want it or not?" "Maybe, but I am not bending down. How about you jump into my arms?" "You wish!" "Hm." She smirked, it’s good to see the familiar grumpy face. "Here, take this. I brought you a wedding gift so you won’t blackmail me later. Find a secluded place and toss it into the sky, as high as you can…damp coal! I said secluded place! Would you ever listen to my instruction...!"

"…Listen. I'll only say this once." Barcus said while they both looked up to the sky, knowing the drow's ears would pick up his every word no matter how loud the fireworks were. "Zilvera, you are a better person than you think. You deserve all of this. May you always find inspiration and strength in your union, my friend."

In my HC post-game Zilvera was in close contact with Barcus, who was now leading the Ironhands and collaborating with the Gondians, to help them recover from Gortash's doing. They needed money and wanted their skills to be known, while the drow wanted to build her own merchant guild, so they hit it off. Zilvera grew increasingly fond of these little fellows for their impressive skills and their character. She especially liked Barcus; they had become true friends.

♡ Wedding Prompts ♡01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

I appreciate Barcus's character and quest line so much, his was lots of fun! ("We love collaboration. Challenge. Solving problems with the power of reason, creativity and invention". Yup that's my cup of character ☕) He also have this firework dialog at tiefling party, it was very him 😂

youtube

#bg3weddingseason #thanks for the ask! <333 #Yeah Lae'zel conquered with baguette that night #Btw I also love teasing Lae'zel to say thank you she was so cute lolol #Gale's wedding #gale romance #gale x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #drow oc #bg3 barcus

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shina913 · 2 years ago

Text

Stalemate, Part 1 | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition: (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

Word count: 8.9K+ words

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); vulnerable confessions; protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); breast/nipple play; dirty talk; jealousy; multiple orgasms; verbal confrontation; a terrible joke about wood 😑

A/N: Phew! What a way to break my month-long writing drought/limbo...jumping from one unfinished WIP to another. As I mentioned on the series masterlist, this is a nonlinear story so you'll see multiple time jumps. I tried to map out the timeline using "Now" and "Then" headings so I hope that helps!

I was also going to straight-shot this but Part 2 is still missing a couple of scenes so I hope to post that in the next day or two. Until then, here's some smangsty-angst!

Now…

Yoongi pushes the button of his key fob to lock his car then walks across the street toward an alleyway. Over a decade ago, this area, at this time of night was always questionable at best. But the neighborhood was changing and old warehouses like these were being converted into some tech start-up office, a pop-up restaurant, or sometimes, the occasional modern art gallery.

“Yoongi!”

His friend, Namjoon’s voice boomed through the loud chatter and house music. He rushes to greet him by the entrance with a hug.

“Hey, glad you could come out tonight!”

Yoongi scans the surroundings and nods in approval. He gasps, “Wow–this looks great, Joon!”

“Thanks, man. Do you like how we styled all of the light fixtures?”

Both men look up at the ceiling and marvel at the decor. “I think I might run out of adjectives tonight,” Yoongi laughs. “I love what you did with them. They look awesome!”

“Great to be friends with the supplier, huh?” Namjoon grinned, elbowing Yoongi playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi answers wryly. “Only for you, Namjoonah.”

“Listen, I’d love to hang out and chat but there’s a lot of people here tonight. Lots of people to rub shoulders with, you know?”

“Aish, go ahead, man–it’s your night. I’ll be fine,” Yoongi smiles.

“Alright well, there’s an open bar set up in the patio and we’ve got people walking around with finger-foods. Just help yourself and have fun, yeah?”

After Namjoon walks away, Yoongi starts to walk deeper into the building and sees doors leading to an outdoor area to where a makeshift bar is set up. While he waits for the bartender to bring him his drink, he turns around to admire his friend’s place once more.

It had been a while since Yoongi had gone out on a weekend–by choice. He mostly preferred to stay in and be a recluse or occupy his time by working.

“Sir, your drink?”

Yoongi turns back toward the bar to take his beer. “Thanks,” he nods at the bartender, then drops a dollar in the tip jar.

As he starts to turn and walk away, he pauses while his vision lands on one corner, next to one of the multiple mobile sculptures installed in the space.

He watched from a distance as you carefully gazed at the exhibit, trying to find some deeper meaning or metaphor that it was trying to convey. Once you were ready to move onto another section of the gallery, your breath catches–and your eyes lock.

Then...

“Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Yoongi grumbled while he stood in a quiet corner to make a call. He’d been at the bar waiting for his friend, Namjoon to show up. It’s been a stressful week for him at work and he wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I sort of…ran into someone and now we’re talking about heading to her place–”

“Her?” Yoongi repeated, “Wha–you already hooked up with some chick?”

“I mean, I don’t know how it will turn out yet, Yoongi,” he chuckled on the other line. “We’re just talking. But if you want, I can still meet you? It’s just going to take me a little while,” Namjoon sputtered.

Yoongi groaned, knowing full well that once Namjoon had been roped in, it would be like trying to pull him out of quicksand. “You know what bro–just…don’t worry about it,” he concedes.

“A-are you sure? I could still–”

“It’s cool, Namjoonie. We’ll link up next time. Have a good night.” He signs off as sincerely as possible before hanging up.

Yoongi huffed, downed the rest of his beer then trudged back over to the bar. He motions to the bartender, who moved closer so he could place another drink order.

“Can I get a scotch, three fingers, no ice?”

******

It’s nearly 10:30 at night and you and your friend, Hyejin were still feeling the club’s vibe. It was a long weekend and you were intent on making a casual hookup or two.

“Anyway…we decided that things weren’t working out,” Hyejin shrugs. “We’re good though.”

You eyed her suspiciously. “Oh sure,” you say sarcastically, “Is that why you’re still fucking him?”

She giggled, clearly not planning on denying it. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and we started out as fuck-buddies…” she trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “You need to start setting better boundaries, girl,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

She shrugged, “I’m just living life. You should try it sometime!”

After you snort at her comment, she nudges your arm, bobbing her head toward the bar’s direction. “He looks yummy,” she remarks. You turn your head and made a quick assessment of the lonely patron she was gesturing at.

To your surprise, he turns his head in your direction. You met his gaze for a brief moment before he hastily turned away.

“He’s hot but a little too broody-looking,” you say dismissively even though you felt a flutter in the pit of your belly.

“So? You know what they say about those quiet, broody types…” Hyejin leans into your ear and whispers, “They’re freaks in the sheets!”

Your eyebrows knitted comically at her. “Who the hell said that?”

She clicked her teeth. “Me, duh!” She threw her head back in laughter, the music drowning out her drunken cackles. “Go get him–or I will,” she threatens.

Just then, he glances in your direction once more. But he’s unnerved by you and Hyejin staring straight at him so he turns away and looks down at his phone screen instead.

“I think he looked at me,” Hyejin said.

“Shut up, he looked at me!”

“You said he was too broody–”

“That didn’t mean that I was disinterested,” you cocked a warning eyebrow at her..

She laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She dared.

You started to back away from her and grinned. “Slow your roll, babe…I’m going!”

You turned away from her and walked up to your target, his shoulders hunched over while he scrolled through his phone and alternately took a sip of his drink.

You ordered yourself a cocktail even though you technically already had one that you conveniently left behind where you previously stood.

You parked yourself on the seat next to him, pretending to scroll through your own phone while you gather up the courage. You see him from your peripheral view sneaking more glances at you.

When the bartender brings you your drink, the hottie to your left speaks out.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The bartender’s eyebrow quirked. He looked at you then back at him. He gave him a small smile, nodded in acknowledgment, and walked away. You took it as your cue to finally start a conversation.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you,” you said, swiveling your seat in his direction, crossing your leg over the other.

“You’re welcome.”

The bartender serves your drink. As you pick it up, you raised your glass toward him. “Geonbae.”

“Geonbae,” he says as he raised his glass to tap it against yours.

After you both take a sip, you ask him straight away, “Are you here with anybody?” You were not wasting any more precious time.

“Well, I was waiting for a friend but he ditched me so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Oh no,” you feigned regret. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for this drink.”

Your boldness made him smile. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. I’m YN.” He reached out for a handshake but you gave him a hug instead. It takes him by surprise but it’s a welcome one.

******

“So, you build furniture?”

“Yep. I design them and I build them,” he explains while you scroll through his company’s social media page.

“By yourself?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, if I can’t find reliable help,” he remarks, his laugh growing louder. “I mean, I do the designs by myself but I usually have a team who helps me with the production and assembly. I have my own workshop.”

“Wow,” you marveled and continued to scroll through his feed. “Your work is really good–and unique!”

“Thank you. I work with a lot of local suppliers–small businesses as well, like mine. It’s a great community,” he explains. “And by the way, your work looks great, too,” he says while he scrolls through your own social media feed.

“Oh, gosh–most of my moodboards are from random Pinterest concepts,” you respond.

“Ehh…I think you’re being too modest.” He zeroes in on a recent contract–one that you were really proud of. It was for a local restaurant chain that used to have a bland color palette and aesthetic until they hired you to liven it up for their first location expansion. Three locations later, they’ve been one of your most lucrative clients.

“You have a great eye,” he says before handing your phone back to you. You smile at his compliment while you return his phone.

“If you think my work is good, we should get together sometime.”

His eyebrow quirks at your remark, but he holds back his response thinking you might have misspoken. You smile at him and after taking a sip of your drink you say, “You know, I’m always looking into connecting with new vendors to partner with.”

He chuckled. “You think we can be partners?”

“Why not? I see a lot of potential for us. I work in design and you are a potential supplier...what’s the worst that can happen?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Our visions might not line up,” he responds with a hint of doubt.

You shrug. “Ever heard of compromising?”

He chuckled softly. “My work tends to come off too old-fashioned to some. It takes a different kind of audience.”

“So? Sometimes all it takes is a dash of old-fashioned,” you smile, raising your glass containing the same drink.

“Really?”

You lift a shoulder. “You need a little bitterness to balance the sweetness out.” You giggle at the cheesiness of that line.

“Point taken,” he says with a gummy smile, holding back his laughter.

******

The last thing you remember was Yoongi asking if you wanted to go to his place or yours–before everything went dark.

Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling.

As you adjust to the brightness of the room, you instinctively reach over by the nightstand to retrieve your phone to check for the time. It was a quarter past 8AM…and you were home…alone, as it seems when your head whips around to see the other side empty.

What happened?

You slowly pad your way into your living room. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and crashed on the couch.

Except, he wasn��t.

Did he just drop you off and leave? You clutch at your throbbing forehead. I’m getting too old for this shit, you thought to yourself. Still, you were worried about what happened to Yoongi.

You pull his number from your phone–at least, you think that you have his number.

“Aha,” you gasped when you find his name in your contacts list.

You realized it might still be too early but you thought you could just give him a call and leave him a voicemail just to make sure that he got home safely.

You open up your blinds to let get some more daylight in the room. By some twisted way, you found that it helped with your hangover.

While the other line trills, something catches your eye when you look out the window.

“Oh shit–” you say under your breath.

******

You approach his car and unsure whether to knock or let him be. He looked exhausted but you couldn’t just leave him out here.

You tapped your knuckles against the window and he immediately flinched. He looks around, seemingly surprised at his surroundings until his eyes land on you.

You gesture to open his door. When he does, you ask him, “Good morning. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

******

He declines at first but you managed to convince him to come in. After a few sips of coffee, he insisted on cooking you breakfast.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet and didn’t have much in your fridge except for some eggs and cheese. You had a couple of slices of bread in the pantry so he makes the most out of it. He is appreciative of the effort and continues to tell you that you didn’t need to go out of your way.

“So, do you always make breakfast for girls you pick up from the club?” You joke.

“Not really,” he laughs. “I also don’t fall asleep in my car after I’ve dropped them off.”

“You know you were welcome to sleep on the bed or the couch,” you say casually. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nah, you were passed out and I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage of the situation or anything like that,” he reasons.

You smiled at how respectful and thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that. And…thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

Days later...

“Bro, are you sure you can meet the deadline?”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then scratched the back of his neck to think before he gave him an answer. He was feeling stressed with this client because they were fussy about the design. It took at least a dozen iterations of the collection before they finally approved it.

The deadline was fast approaching and Yoongi had fallen behind with the work. He’d have to pay his guys overtime and maybe even work on some of the pieces himself in the evenings to cover more ground.

“Tell them not to worry. Besides, when have I ever missed a delivery date for them?” Yoongi walks away and back into the workshop to check on how the other projects were progressing.

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi’s logic. No matter how stressful it got for him, Yoongi always managed to deliver the goods, and clients were satisfied each and every time. ”Alright, I’ll let them know.” He types a text to the client and sends Yoongi’s response.

After sending it off, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Hey, so–how’d you make out last weekend? Are we cool?”

The question seems to take Yoongi by surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we be?”

Namjoon laughed. “Bro, this is me apologizing for abandoning you for a girl.”

“Oh.” Yoongi suddenly recalls the events leading up to how the night ended. “Uhm–nah, we’re cool. Besides, I did just fine,” he adds casually.

His friend’s mouth spread into a Cheshire cat grin. “Oof–you hooked up, didn’t you?”

Yoongi’s face scrunched in confusion. “Naaww…”

His laughter boomed from his chest. “Bro, I know you’re lying! Lemme see! Is she on social media?”

Yoongi clicked his teeth and groaned. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“So you did meet someone!”

He sighed, exasperated with his friend’s teasing. “Fine, I did. But nothing happened! We just hung out and I took her home.”

Unconvinced, Namjoon’s voice rose a few octaves. ”Whaaatt? Wait–so this the first girl you’ve hooked up with since–”

Yoongi waved his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from finishing his thought. “For the last time–she and I did not hook up,” he clarifies firmly. “We just had a nice conversation over a few drinks. Then I drove her back to her place…where I made her breakfast.”

Namjoon doubles over in laughter. “And you’re telling me that nothing happened?”

“Swear to god! After giving me her address, she fell asleep on the way there and I just carried her in. I slept in my car.”

“Wow…” Namjoon breathes out. “Look at you being all chivalrous!”

Yoong snorted at the comment.

“So–are you gonna see her again or what?”

Before he could answer, Namjoon’s phone buzzed with a text from their client. He reads the message to Yoongi. “She asked if you can squeeze in a prototype for barstools?”

“Aish,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I mean…that technically wasn’t even…” he stops short. Instead of arguing, he drags out a sigh and relents. “You know what, fine. Tell her I’ll include it and bill her later.”

Namjoon types up Yoongi’s response, to which the client replies almost instantaneously. “Is he absolutely sure?” He read the text out loud, a wry look on his face.

Yoongi looked up at his friend and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Just fucking tell her ‘yes’.”

Namjoon nods and sends the response again. “I don’t know why I need to be your middleman here–”

“Well, you brokered this deal. And from the jump, they preferred to communicate this way, so…” he trailed off. After ensuring some quality control on his employee’s work, Yoongi walks back into his living space and flops himself onto the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Namjoon walks toward his friend and sits on the adjacent seat. “Is that really all there is to it?” His voice had a hint of concern and worry for his friend.

Yoongi turned his head and opened one eye to look at him.

“It’s been over a year. She’s moved on–”

“Clearly,” Yoongi deadpanned before closing his eye again.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well…aren’t you back in the dating scene? Can’t we all be grownups here?”

He let out a deep sigh, then opened his eyes again to dig his phone out of his back pocket. He didn’t think Namjoon’s question required an answer so he just scrolls through his screen.

Talking about his past relationship was a sore subject…even for Yoongi, whom his other friends thought to be typically aloof about these kinds of things. But sometimes, whatever one showed on the outside actually ran much deeper on the inside.

Shrugging, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s reticence as his cue to leave.

When the door shuts, Yoongi pauses his scrolling through his social media feed as his vision lands on a particular post. Damn algorithms got him again. He clicks on the account’s page and follows it.

Next, he types up a message and then hits ‘send.’

******

After work, you head over to a pub close to your office. You offered to meet Yoongi halfway from wherever he was coming from but said that he was happy to head over closer to where you were at.

He was already at the bar when you walked in, looking more relaxed than when you first saw him over the weekend. You weren’t much for guys with long hair but something about his hair being pulled back in a half-up/half-down bun became a contributing factor that held your attention.

You greet him with a hug, which he reciprocates. He asks what you want to drink. You glance at his whisky and decide to order an old-fashioned.

“You know, when you texted me this afternoon, I was a little surprised.”

“And why’s that?” He asks you.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you thought our night ended kind of weird.” You sat on the stool next to him, your legs crossed in his direction while you turned your glass on the bar’s surface with your fingers.

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I don't remember having a night like that…ever, I think?” Your eyes drift to his fingers that dance over the rim of his glass of whisky.

“Is that because you always score?”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and inhaled. “I’ll tell you right now, if my best friend were here, he’d already fallen off his chair laughing.”

His comment made your eyebrows lift in surprise. You both took sips of your drinks. After you swallow, you ask, “On that note, how many serious relationships have you had?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, we’re at that level of comfort now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Seemed like the conversation was headed there anyway. Might as well get there sooner!”

He laughs, then pauses to consider his answer. “I’ve had one.”

“One? That’s it?” You were incredulous. You found him attractive–and not in a novel way. He spoke calmly and even sagely at times. A good conversation these days was rare and often overlooked or easily forgotten. But he was someone you enjoyed talking to...and someone you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind in the last few days.

“Yeah. Just the one,” he replies.

“Wow…”

“Yep. We were going to get married and everything. But,” he let out a sharp breath, “She changed her mind.” He sighed, picked up his glass, and swirled the liquid in it. “She broke it off the day before…told me she couldn’t go through with it.”

You watched him throw his head back and polish off the rest of his drink. Your heart hurts for him and you didn’t have a smartass joke to say to lighten the mood.

“Anyway!” He sighed deeply, desperate for a subject change. “That was a long time ago. It’s all done and over with. She’s off doing her own thing, I’m doing mine. What about you? How many serious relationships have you been in?”

“Nine.”

His eyes widened. “Nine? Those were all serious?” He asks carefully.

“Yes,” you say confidently. “Why is that hard for you to believe?”

He scoffed. “I mean…you don’t look that old and you’ve been in nine serious relationships?”

“What does my age have to do with it?” You laughed.

“Well…usually, relationships span years–”

“That’s what you think,” you countered. “You think that in order for a relationship to be considered serious is the amount of time you’ve been with that person. I mean, couldn’t it just be the depth of connection with that person?”

That stopped him in his tracks. He let that thought sink in, then nodded gently. Meanwhile, you’re watching his facial expressions–the wheels turning in his head.

“I can still feel you silently judging me,” you chuckle.

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I’m certainly in no place to judge. You’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Besides, we’ve only just met.”

You smiled. “Fair point.”

“Although…I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head and prompted him to continue.

“Out of all of those relationships, which one was your worst heartbreak?”

“Damn!” You laughed. “And here you are questioning whether we’ve known each other long enough to discuss these things?”

You both laugh at the thought. When you calm down, he says, “Touché. I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” You downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention back to him. “The one that really did a number on me was my last relationship. We were together for about six months…” You paused to clear your throat, “until I found out that he was married.”

“Married? So you were someone’s mistress?”

“Unknowingly!” You contest. “Besides, I ended it as soon as I found out. I didn’t want to get tangled up in all that.” You winced at the memory. Not your finest moment but since then, you tried to be more vigilant about red flags.

“Well, like I said–it’s all in the past, right? The point is, we both got our hearts broken. End of story.”

You nodded in agreement before he switches gears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Repeating the whole process. You know, as someone who’s been in all of these relationships…don’t you ever get tired of starting from scratch every time? The whole getting to know each other, falling in love…then being faced with the possibility of things not working out.”

“I wonder about people who are afraid to put themselves out there again after getting hurt by love. I really don’t get that,” you say in jest.

He shrugs. “Who likes getting hurt? That’s not something rational people consciously wish for themselves.”

You sighed wistfully at the thought. “You know, I never understood why some people think of it that way. You know, trying to rationalize falling in love. Isn’t that counterintuitive? Love in itself is all about being spontaneous, irrational…reckless, even. The feeling of being completely wrapped up in the emotion and the moment–all because of one person. That includes all the fear, uncertainties…even the possibility of getting hurt. The experience of love isn’t complete without all that.”

He chuckled with his gummy grin. “Sounds like a huge gamble to me.”

“But if you never take that gamble, how will you ever experience the joy of winning big? How would you ever know what your heart is capable of taking if you’re always afraid of losing?”

He eyed you for a few seconds, letting your words sink in. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to go through what could possibly be twice the amount of hurt–just to fall in love again?”

“Absolutely!” You declared with confidence.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked him straight in the eye. “I mean…you’re not thinking of hurting me, are you?” You ask him cheekily.

His eyebrow quirked in response. “Y-you’re asking me?” He chuckled nervously.

“Calm down! It’s just a rhetorical question,” you giggled.

You both laugh it off. Afterward, he pursed his lips and eyed you again. “But just so we’re clear…I don’t plan on it.”

His answer made your heart skip. You didn’t have any smart-ass quips to lob back at him.

After what seems to be an eternity of staring at each other in tense silence, he asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

******

He showed you around his modest place, where he had a full and, judging by the fresh sawdust on the tables, actively functional workshop. It was attached to a one-bedroom living space with a kitchen, a cozy living room, and a full bathroom. But by your assessment, it looked more like the living space was attached to the workshop.

“You sleep where you work?” You ask while looking at the work surface next to you.

He notices you looking at it so he leans over to swipe the sawdust off the table. “I didn’t see the point of going back and forth between places.”

“Yeah but it must be hard to live where you work and work where you live?”

He chuckles. “On the contrary, it’s more convenient for me. When I’m tired, I just lay on the couch. If I have trouble sleeping, I just come over here and tinker with stuff.”

You eyed him silently as he stood over the table, his hands spread wide while he supported his weight on them.

“I don’t know if I can do that. I need clear boundaries.”

“Don’t you bring work home from time to time?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m on a tight schedule. But I try not to do it if I can help it. I prefer the idea of drawing that line where, once I walk out that door, that’s it. I’ll come back to it in the morning. Once I’m off work, I’m off work.”

He hummed. “That’s fair.”

You carefully move a small container of wood stain to the side then hop up on the table. After giving his studio another once-over, you turn your attention to him.

“What are you currently working on?”

He seems hesitant at first but decides to share a little bit. “I’m…trying to create a prototype for this light fixture,” he says vaguely.

“Really? Can I see?”

He chuckles, then paused to check if you were actually serious about looking at his designs. When your expression remained unchanged, he decides to reach past you to pull his sketchbook toward him. He flips through a few pages until he lands on a specific one.

The page has a rough sketch of a multi-tiered looking chandelier with what looked like wooden fringes, instead of what would typically be glass or crystal.

“So, I’m trying to focus on more natural materials like rattan, bamboo…I don’t know, maybe my friend, Namjoon, has been hanging around my studio too much,” he says in jest.

Your fingers brush the pencil lines on the page. His ideas were beautiful. They were modern yet had an old-world feel to them. His pieces didn’t look like something that was mass-produced. Each one had its own personality but all of them were crafted with artisanal care.

“You think you could work with these?” He asks quietly, his face an inch away from you.

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “My mind’s already buzzing with ideas.”

He looks down from your eyes to your mouth…then back up to your eyes again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper then take in his scent. “You smell nice. What is that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…pine?” He answers before you close the gap between you to kiss him. You taste faint traces of whisky and citrus flavors in his mouth. His lips were soft and melded into yours, making you sigh into him. His kiss was as calm and gentle as his usual demeanor.

He presses his body closer to yours, making you tilt backward on the work table, spilling the can of wood stain on you. You gasp, startled at the feel of it on the side of your leg, and hastily hop off the surface.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I-it’s okay,” you stammer, grabbing onto your dress to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not. I ruined your dress.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you say nonchalantly. “I can take it to the cleaners…” You inspect the stain while he goes to grab a paper towel. Who were you kidding? This was varnish. The dress itself was cheap but it was beyond salvageable.

You looked up to see him hovering over you. “Or we could just take it off?”

With his breath fanning your face, you fist at his shirt and pull him into you again. This time, his lips didn’t feel tentative–they were more ardent…hungrier. He lifts you off the worktable and you both stagger out of the workshop and toward his living space. The closest comfortable surface was couch so he lowers you both there.

You reach back to lower the zipper of your dress while he pulls his shirt off. When he tosses it to the side, helps you undress the rest of the way through.

His fingers laced around the back of your neck urging you closer to him. He moved from your mouth down to your neck, gently sucking the skin on your collarbone.

You felt a gush of moisture soak through you…you let go of every ounce of control that you hung onto because were desperate for him now.

With one swift move, he unclasps your bra and moves his mouth to your chest while he lowered you further until your head hit the armrest.

Your breath hitches as he wraps his plush lips around an aching nipple. You swore right then that you’d orgasm from the feeling alone…but he was just getting started.

You reach between both of you and undo the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down.

He hooks his fingers onto your panties and you arch your back so he can slide them off. You were completely bare for him now, hypnotized by his desire for you at this moment.

You kept your eyes at him, unable to look away as pulls your legs apart and gave your inner thighs gentle kisses. He locked eyes with you and kept contact while you watched him sink his mouth onto your cleft.

You sucked in a harsh breath while he tongued you. You felt every lick and every suction of his mouth onto your moist, swollen lips.

Your walls clenched achingly at nothing while he continued to eat you out. Your breath began to stutter as you shamelessly bucked your hips against his mouth, desperate for a release.

You felt him dip two fingers into you…pulling them in and out lazily while his tongue fluttered over your clit.

Your body bowed when he alternated licking and sucking at your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built up to a fever pitch. Your throat tightened, desperately trying to suck in air while your body tensed.

“Aaahh…gonna cum–fuck…”

You cried out hoarsely further as he got his last two licks in before you came down from your high. You were about to pass out from the pleasure when you saw him fish out a foil packet from his wallet.

You sat yourself up, meeting him halfway as he lined himself up between your thighs. You kissed him senselessly, your tongue fighting his for control.

Your mouth stilled as you felt him slowly enter you. You sucked in another breath while you felt that delicious stretch.

He urged you to lay back down while he pushed the rest of his length into you.

“Fuh…,” was all you managed to breathe out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as shivers coursed through your body.

You looked back at him, a pained look on his face from how tight you were for him. You gave him a small nod of assurance to let him know that you were okay.

He started to move his hips slowly until he found a consistent rhythm.

He lowered himself further against your body and wrapped your leg around his waist. He thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace while your core tightened further around him along with another orgasm building up.

“Fuck, YN…feel so good,” he choked out in between breaths. He sealed his mouth onto yours, moaning in pleasure.

Your nails raked his back–from his shoulders and down to his hips that relentlessly railed into you.

“Fuck, don’t stop…don’t stop…” you gasped as you felt yourself edge closer to another orgasm.

Your muscles clenched around his cock while he repeatedly hit you deep into your core. You buck your hips into him, meeting him at every thrust while you both moan into each other’s mouths.

The next thing you knew, he had tipped you over the edge again.

His palms cup your ass, raising your hips to him. A few more thrusts and he was arching his back, pressing his forehead to yours as his own climax coursed through him.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, that he brought to you, bedside.

******

After that night, you spent many more going back and forth between his place and yours.

You went about both your days but talked all the time. You always made time to see each other–he’d work around your schedule and you’d work around his. Things were going so well and stress-free.

You didn’t feel the need to change the way you were around him and neither did he. Everything just came naturally to both of you.

Some days, you were unaware of how much time you spent together. Some weekends, you would just laze around and never leave the room. It was bliss.

“Jagiii!” You yell out from his bedroom, hoping he’d hear from the loud, grinding noise of his industrial sander.

He turns the machine off, flips his visor up, and pulls his earplugs out. “Yeah?” he bellowed from his workshop.

“Could I just have five minutes for a phone call?”

He gestures to his workshop assistant, telling him that he can take a break. “Alright, we’ll take five!” he says.

“You’re the best! Love you!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“Just put in on my tab, jagiya,” you tease back.

******

Weeks later, you finally signed a lease for your new condo. Yoongi was on hand to help you move and get settled. You’d gone back and forth your old place to pick up smaller things that you didn’t load up in the big truck. The most important things were your larger furniture anyway.

Yoongi was tinkering with the internet connection in the second bedroom while you stood quietly in the midst of the expansive space, surrounded by boxes. It was getting dark out but you hadn’t installed your blinds yet so the moonlight illuminated the room. You stared out the window and into the glittering city lights.

“Why are you standing out here in the dark?” Yoongi flicks the light switch on.

“No, no–turn it back off.” He does so tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He approaches you carefully from behind, wrapping his arms around you. You lean your head back against him and sighed. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just…trying to take it all in as everything calms down again.”

“Are you tired?” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod.

“Yeah, I can smell the dried sweat from your forehead,” he says before you poke him in his side, making him laugh out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, grabbing onto your waist and turning you around to face him. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” You plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Of course. Even if you didn’t ask me to, I still would have done it.”

“I know but this is a huge deal for me. After all these years of hard work, I’m finally upgrading my home.”

“That’s great. I’m very proud of you for doing that. And you know,” he glances past your shoulder and jerks his chin at your windows. “I can totally make you some custom blinds, too. None of that plastic, vinyl shit. I can use bamboo so it’s cooling but also great for insulation. Very sustainable, too.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Mmm…keep talking eco-friendly to me, Mr. Min…”

“Well…” he brushes his lips against yours, “If you like that, wait ‘til you hear about the reclaimed wood we’re using for this new commission.”

You threw your head back and moaned. “Ooh…yes…keep going.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head and leaves a trail of kisses down your exposed throat. “Why don’t we take this back in the bedroom and I can show you what else we can do with some wood.”

You start cackling at his comment and before you know it, he picks you up off your feet and you stumble into your room and stayed there until the sun came up.

Now…

In a panic, Yoongi heads to one corner of the gallery to search for his friend. “Namjoonah!”

Namjoon’s head whips around to see Yoongi headed for him. He excuses himself from the current conversation he was having. “Hey, Yoongi–”

Immediately, Yoongi pulls Namjoon right by the bathrooms to scold him. “Bro, that’s not cool. I wish you told me that YN was going to be here.”

“If I had told you, would you have come out tonight?”

Yoongi scoffed, “Of course, I still would have,” his voice went up a higher register, making Namjoon snicker. “I just…I wish you would have given me a warning so I could have been, I don’t know, better prepared!”

“Prepared for what? You guys have been broken up for years. Besides, you’ve always known that she and Hyejin are friends. You should have at least expected her to be here so I don’t know why you’re all bothered. Unless of course you not over her yet?”

Yoongi remains adamant. “Dude, of course, I’m over her! I just got caught off-guard, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re not still thinking about her?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand her! She’s too loud, a terrible cook…not to mention that she has way too much drama in her life.”

Namjoon snorted. “And you didn’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head dismissively. “Whatever, dude–I’m just not all about that. My new motto in life is to stay drama-free, you know?”

He gives Yoongi a skeptical smile. Just then, the bathroom door opens behind them.

The color from Yoongi’s face drains as he gets the shock of his life when he sees you emerge.

You stood there smirking while Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged looks.

“Uh, sorry, guys–I think I need to use the bathroom.” Namjoon says, stifling a laugh while he cuts in between you two and shuts the door.

Yoongi remained standing in awkward silence, trying to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I thought you liked it when I was loud for you?” With that, you walk past him and disappear into the crowd.

Then…

“I can’t hear you, baby…come on…let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Ahhh…f-fuck…” You cried out loudly, body stiffening, with your fingers grasping Yoongi’s hair at the roots while his tongue teases the last pulses of your orgasm.

“There you go…good girl.”

You and Yoongi were planning to have a quiet night in but Hyejin invites you out at the last minute, saying that you haven’t had a proper girls’ night in a while. Thinking about it now, it’s been over a month since you met up with her. Most of your nights were preoccupied with Yoongi these days.

When Yoongi couldn’t convince you to stay in, he asked if you needed a ride there and you decline, saying that Hyejin offered to pick you up.

When you stepped out of the room and he sees you in your outfit, a dark cloud overcomes him. He grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the kitchen counter, and moving your panties aside, dives right in.

He helps you off the counter and you smooth your dress. You glance downwards and see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey, let me take care of that.” You reach out to cup him but he catches your hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss it.

You’re suddenly torn between walking out the door and wanting to stay to suck him off…deep. The latter option sounded more appealing as you felt your mouth water at the thought of him fucking your mouth.

He pulls you in close and presses his hard-on against you. You let out a small whine of protest. His tongue grazed his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it.

He tutted. “Come home to me later and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice made it sound like a warning…a warning that you were tempted to ignore just to find out what he would do to you for ignoring it. The idea excited you so much that you felt heat pooling between your legs again.

“Are you sure? I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet Hyejin,” you smile sweetly, your lips brushing against his jawline.

“I’m sure. Now go before I change my mind,” he says in jest.

“Okay,” you acquiesce.

Right before you walk away, he takes your mouth and kisses you hard. You couldn’t help but lick traces of your arousal from his lips.

When he pulls away, you are breathless and weak in the knees–more so after that orgasm that he gave you minutes ago.

******

You hadn’t noticed that Hyejin stopped mid-sentence to eye you as you giggled at your phone screen while you exchanged spicy texts with Yoongi. You finally look up and meet her gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’,” she says in a mocking tone. “I’ve been blabbing up a storm here and you’re all heart-eyes, drooling over your phone there.” She tilts her chin up to get a look at your text screen and you immediately pull it close to your chest.

She scoffed then laughed. “Oh my gooood…you are so whipped for him!”

You roll your eyes at her. “I am not!”

She laughed even louder at your response. “Oh come on, YN! How long have we been friends? I can tell whether you’re just feeling a buzz between your legs or if you’re really into someone. And right now, I know that you are so down bad for him,” she declares.

You feel your cheeks ignite. It wasn’t because of the alcohol but because you knew she was right.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine! So we’re a little obsessed with each other, big deal.”

You started to gush over your relationship. “I just love how much he cares. He checks in, asking whether I’ve eaten yet. He cooks for me…then, he tells me when he misses me. It’s nice. It feels nice to feel needed, you know?”

Hyejin nods. “Well, that’s all because you guys are still in that honeymoon phase!”

You scoff, dipping your fingers into your glass and flicking droplets of cold water at her. “Bitch! You’re so negative!”

She throws her head back in laughter. “I’m kidding, babe! You know me. Seriously, I’m happy for you. Now…” she cleared her throat. “Does he have a single hot friend that you know of?”

******

The following weekend, you convince Yoongi to come with you on a walking tour of a museum exhibiting gothic renaissance art. You were looking for some inspiration for your next project. You saw an ad online and decided it couldn't hurt to go exploring for a bit. It was also a nice excuse to pull him away from his workshop.

“Uhh…” Yoongi croaks tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what it is we’re looking at,” he laughs while cocking his head from one side to the other, trying to decipher the exhibit in front of you.

“Neither do I, jagi,” you giggled, glancing at the museum brochure. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to get some inspiration for this restaurant revamp. They currently have this old western theme…which is strange because they serve pizza and pasta.”

Yoongi laughs. “That concept doesn’t even make sense!”

“I know! But the owner’s daughter is a bit more modern and she’s totally up for a theme change.” You’ve talked to Yoongi about this new contract for weeks now and it’s finally happening. He was excited to bounce ideas off you to the point where you pulled him in as a supplier for the rebrand.

Even though the daughter was pushing for a more modern twist, her father, the restaurant’s current owner, wants to keep some traces of that classic feel to it.

“So, no saloon doors?” Yoongi says sarcastically.

You threw your head back in laughter. “Definitely not! The daughter would fire me. I was thinking we can bring in your natural concepts with that wooden fringe chandelier sketch that you were working on.”

His hand linked with yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it, making you grin like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk out of the museum and stood on the sidewalk, intending to walk a block over to a theater, not to see a show but to look at the architecture. The theater had a classic art deco design that would come in handy for your moodboard. You convinced Yoongi to make it part of your chill date before heading back to your place for dinner.

As you approach the end of the block, you are nearly run over by a man pushing a stroller that rounded the corner.

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi exclaims protectively.

“Oh, I’m sor–YN?”

You suck in a breath. “Soonyoung, h-hi.”

“Hey! Wow…it’s been a while. Uh…h-how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Uhm…g-good,” you stammer. “You?” Then your eyes flick nervously over to the stroller that had a sleeping baby in it. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Uh–so–”

“Yeobo!”

You whip your head around to see a woman come out of the restaurant that you were standing in front of. She walked towards Soonyoung and the stroller.

“Hi,” she greets you and Yoongi, then turns to Soonyoung waiting for him to introduce her.

“This is my wife, Naeyeon. Yeobo, this is YN. She’s an old friend.” She smiles at you then her eyes shift to Yoongi.

Somehow, your brain lurches forward. “This is Yoongi,” you say to both of them while you stood across from them. “My boyfriend.”

“So great to meet you both!” She says with a warm smile.

“Anyway, we should go before we miss our reservation, Nae. It’s good to see you again, YN,�� Soonyoung says in a hurry before he and his family walk around you and into the restaurant.

******

Since that awkward run-in with Soonyoung, Yoongi has been uncharacteristically short with you for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your place, he sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Afterward, he picks up the to-go bags that contained your dinner.

You watched him quietly lay out the containers on your dining table, along with the disposable utensils, setting place settings for you and him.

He sits down and pulls his chopsticks apart. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he says without looking up at you.

You wordlessly take the seat adjacent to him. He immediately puts a dumpling on your plate before he serves himself.

He pauses as if remembering something. He rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Just water is fine,” you answer blandly while staring at the lone dumpling on your plate.

He returns to the table, setting a glass of water next to you, and immediately takes a long swig of his drink after he sits back down.

He grabs so more food and puts it on his plate, pausing to offer you some but you decline. All this time, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you.

Unable to withstand it anymore, you push your plate aside to finally ask, “Something the matter?”

He doesn’t answer and instead continues to chew his food quietly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

He swallowed his food only to say, “Not now, YN.” He takes another bite.

You pursed your lips and gently press him again. “Look, if we have a problem here, we need to talk about it. We’re both adults here–”

“YN, I said, not now,” he says more sternly. Catching himself, he leans against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He regrets snapping at you. With a heavy sigh, he finally meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I…” he hesitates but finally gives into that nagging feeling in him. “Was that him?”

You give a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You should have introduced me as your boyfriend sooner!”

You scrunch your face in surprise. “Why does the timing even matter? The point was that I introduced you, right?”

His voice grew louder. “If you introduced me sooner, he'd take it as a sign not to make stupid small-talk or-or...even think about trying to start shit with you again!”

“Geez, Yoongi. Why would you even think like that? Clearly, the man was right there with his wife and kid. It was a short, very random run-in that will probably never happen again.” You maintained a calm tone.

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” You started to grow irate at how unreasonable he was starting to sound. “Yoongi–I’m with you, not him. I love you, not him. I don’t understand why we’re making a huge deal out of this!”

He stood there silently, his hands on his waist, nostrils flaring with every breath he took. The seconds tick by and before you try to reason with him, he huffs and walks into the bedroom, the door slamming.

*****

After you store the takeout containers in the fridge, you enter the bedroom to find him lying on the bed with his back toward you. He doesn’t turn to face you or say anything so instead, you shower and get changed. When you get under the covers, you turn on your side so you faced the opposite direction.

A few minutes of silence and staring at your nightstand, you hear him let out a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did earlier.”

His apology pinches your chest but you keep your back toward him. “You know, just because I hooked up with a married man before doesn’t mean that I’m itching to do it again. So I froze when I saw Soonyoung, but that’s only because I hadn’t seen him since I broke it off and to add to that, his wife was right there. What did you expect me to do?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got jealous and–I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

It was then that you rolled over to face him.

“Look…I made a stupid mistake a while ago but as soon as I was aware of it, I walked away and I grew from that. I thought that my being completely honest with you from the very beginning was a way to build trust between us…and that I had nothing to hide. But…” Your voice started to waver, “If you’re only going to use that against me, then I don’t think–”

“No, no–” He engulfs you in his arms immediately. As the warmth emanating from his body coursed through you, you couldn’t help but cry into his chest.

“Aw, baby…I’m sorry. I love you. I won’t question that again. And I do appreciate your honesty.”

You lifted your head and tilted your chin up to him. “I love you, too, Yoongi.”

There was nothing you could do to change the past but as he rocked you to sleep, you wondered if you were right to be open and honest with him from the beginning …or was it a careless mistake? Should you have put your best foot forward first and pretended to be perfect instead?

At your age, you learned that being up-front with your relationship expectations prevented less hurt if things went south. If either party decides that any of those expectations was a dealbreaker, you moved on, and no harm was done.

You only hoped that Yoongi felt the same.

Tags: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @deepseavibez @miksancheese @shesoldbutcute @yu-justme @joonschocochip

Part 2 ◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

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