#I think it is *squints* they're in there somewhere

[noonaishere]

Music shows be like "time for the dance break!" And then the dance break looks like this:

[thegreatyin]

Same spouse!!!

my personal headcanon is that every player with this item is married to every other player with it

that's hilarious. accepted

[humming-fly]

do you fw he/they greedling

I mean when referring to the collective greedling character it's more of a 'they/them' situation isn't it? :P

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[withleeknow]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[maxlarens]

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

[asapjens]

GOOD LOOKS

PJO: perseus jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: you think percy’s dad is hot

CATEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 365

The sun beat down on the group as they trudged up the hill towards Olympus, the home of the gods. Percy's sword was strapped to his back, Annabeth had her trusty dagger at her side, and Grover was nervously fiddling with his reed pipes.

As for you, well, being the daughter of Hermes, you were just glad to get out of the city and stretch your legs.

"Alright, everyone," Percy said, squinting up at the golden gates of Olympus. "We need to convince them to help” Percy said. “Remember to be respectful, even if they're being difficult." Annabeth said, while looking at you.

"Difficult is their middle name," you muttered, adjusting the strap of your satchel. "Especially when they're arguing with each other."

The group made their way through the gates and into the grand hall of Olympus. The gods were gathered, some lounging on thrones, others bickering with each other.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you spotted Hermes, your father, reclining on a cloud and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Father, we need your help," you called out, trying to catch his attention.

Hermes looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ah, my dear daughter, always getting into trouble. What can I do for you?"

"We're on a quest to you know, the usual, save the world bla bla bla, and we kinda need help," you explained.

Before Hermes could respond, a loud argument broke out between Zeus and Poseidon, their booming voices echoing through the hall.

Annabeth stepped forward, trying to mediate, while Grover attempted to calm himself, because he was getting agitated by all the yelling.

You exchanged a glance with Percy, who smirked at you. "This is going to be a long day."

After what felt like an eternity of bickering, the gods finally agreed to the requests of their children. As the group made their way out of Olympus, you turned to Percy with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Your dad is kind of hot, you know," you teased, nudging him playfully.

Percy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

“I’m not being ridiculous!” you told him holding a laugh.

You grinned, nudging him again. "Well, I guess you had to inherit your good looks from somewhere, right?”

“Now that i think about it, Mrs. Jackson is also kinda- Before you could finish your sentence Percy gave you a sharp look.

“Don't worry, you're still the best looking” You winked at Percy

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Hyunjin x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (20,4k words)

Author's note: This is the beginning of an end to the series so please enjoy x

HOST: Lana is back! And she's got a team of hot, sexy singles. This group of people hook up so fast but nothing compares to how fast they run from commitment and their world will fall apart when they find out their dream vacation is in fact a sexless retreat hosted by the world's biggest cock-blocker. With a $200,000 prize at stake, will they learn to have deep, meaningful relationships? Or will temptations still be Too Hot To Handle?

-

Hyunjin doesn't know what to expect.

The show is the first of its kind and it's also his first time being a part of it. The fact that the staff got him blindfolded doesn't help him relax, a staff holds him by the arm to lead him somewhere. He obviously can't see anything but he hears the lapping waves from his right side and in the background, he hears low chatters from behind and in front of him.

The staff eventually tells him to stop walking and turns his body the other way, he doesn't know what to do next except to wait for further instructions. They make him wait for a minute until a voice comes, a distorted, robot-like voice from somewhere close to him.

"Conquerors, you can now remove your blindfolds!"

Hyunjin immediately reaches for the back of his head to untie the blindfold and keeps his eyes closed until he takes it off. The sun blinds him the second he opens his eyes, he quickly shields his eyes with his hand and squints to adjust them to the bright light.

He hears a few chuckles from next to him and girls squealing across from him, it's when he lowers his hand he can finally see the girls standing on the opposite side. For a split second, he feels ecstatic to be the only guy there but then he turns his head side to side and realizes that's just his wishful thinking.

While the girls are huddling around and hugging each other, he exchanges handshakes and side hugs with the other male contestants.

"Hyunjin," he introduces his name around with a friendly smile.

"What's up, bro?" The one with an impeccable mustache and a sheer Spanish accent, Diego says.

After the males are done introducing themselves to each other, they walk over to the girls to do the same to them.

"It's hot, huh?" Says the guy with long blond hair and pale skin, Andy.

Hyunjin can't tell if he's talking about the sunny weather or the girls, either way, he agrees with him. He can't even decide which one to look at. they're all so attractive that it feels like his eyes are having a feast right now.

To get girls, Hyunjin never really has to work hard for it, just a little stare and a little smile, then he gets it. He does just that as he tells his name to the girls, oozing with confidence and charms. The eyes he's getting from a couple of girls... oh, he can tell that he makes just the right impression on them.

Before he can make any moves though, the voice comes back. He finally learns that the voice is coming from the gate of what he assumes is where he'll be staying for the rest of the show.

"Conquerors, welcome to paradise!"

Everyone is cheering in response to that and Hyunjin is excited as well even though he never really learned how the show is going to work, they only told him that it's a reality show and he'll stay in the villa with the other contestants, having fun and enjoying himself so he signed up for it.

"Each of you has a particular skill and so you were selected for a mission: conquering this paradise."

Another wave of cheers and exclaims bursts out of everyone as they stand facing the gate while the voice continues talking.

"Behind you, there are some buried treasure chests, and inside one of them is the only key to the gate. By finding this kiss, you'd be allowed to enter paradise."

Hyunjin turns around almost in unison with everyone else, he sees that there's a big circle around a plot of sand and two crates filled with shovels for everyone to use.

"You have ten minutes to finish the task. Good luck!" The voice concludes.

-

HYUNJIN: I look like a Disney prince but I am no prince [Smirks] I have no time for relationships. I work as a model, I meet a lot of people and there are always parties and after parties. Sometimes there's a kiss, sometimes there's something more [laughs] That's why people described me as a spoiled playboy [grins]

-

"I joined this show to do some manual labor," said no one ever.

You stare at the pile of shovels before reluctantly picking it up, this is not how you want to start the show but it's the only way to win, so you put your gloves on and start digging. When you think you're the worst one here, you see a girl holding the shovel the wrong way.

"Guys, I don't know how to dig," says the short, blond-haired girl with freckles, Edie.

"Like this!" The curly-haired girl with round big eyes, Frida says, showing her how to properly dig the sand.

The girls are digging at the same spot so you walk to the other part and start digging there. While two guys already found two chests, the other two guys are standing on the sideline not far from you.

"Thank God we're here, man," the guy says to the other.

The other agrees with him with a fistbump and then says, "So many hot chicks, it's crazy."

You keep digging the sand while pretending not to hear them and eventually, you hit something hard so you use your hand to take it out.

"I found one!" You excitedly announce even though you haven't successfully taken the chest out of the sand yet.

"That's amazing!" Edouard praises, you can easily identify him from his French accent.

He then kneels next to you to help you pull the chest out and hands it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter with a smile.

Ten minutes have passed and the voice returns to tell everyone the time is up. Everyone is more than glad to stop digging and get rid of the shovels.

"Let's see if you found the key."

The staff makes everyone who obtained the treasure chests line up in front of the gate and take turns to open it.

The guy on the farthest left gets to open his chest first and turns out it's empty. The second guy takes his turn but it's also empty. You shake your treasure chest to know if the key is in yours but it's useless to find out when the third guy found the key in his treasure chest.

"Congratulations! You've conquered the first stage. You may access the villa."

To say that you're disappointed is an understatement, it's not so much about the key, it's how you obtained the treasure chest that gets you a bit upset.

Pablo, the guy who found the key, steps forward and uses the key on the big padlock. He throws the padlock aside once he successfully opens it and pushes the big gate that reveals the luxurious villa.

"Welcome to my house, guys!" Pablo jokingly says as he leads the group further inside.

Everyone is in awe of what they're seeing, a big swimming pool, yards, and the big villa that sits in the center of it all. You've never seen such a lavish piece of property, it's so big that you possibly need a day or two to learn your way around.

The sound of the champagne pops open startles you and a girl links her arm with yours, a beautiful girl with long dark hair and sleeve tattoos on both of her arms. You rake your brain to recall her name, Vic.

Everyone eventually grabs a glass for themselves and patiently waits for their turn for Edouard to fill it with champagne.

You catch the guy standing next to you having a sip before the toast, "Drinking before toasting is bad luck, you know," you tell him.

Hearing you say that, the guy turns to the side to face you and it's baffled you how beautiful he is, the kind that would make anyone the slightest bit intimidated by it.

The introduction everyone did earlier was too fast and too brief, you can't remember most of everyone's names because of it. However, there are only two long-haired guys here, one is blonde and his name is Andy so that makes him the other one and you're sure his name is Hyunjin.

Hyunjin has a small face yet his facial features delightfully complement each other and the eyebrow piercing should be a violation of such otherworldly visual but instead, it gives him that edge.

"It's not bad luck when I'm here and having this drink with you," he says, clinking his glass with yours then bravely takes another sip.

His stare is the opposite of the sweet smile he's giving you, it's bold and confident. You shouldn't be afraid of superstitious, you should be afraid of the type of guy that breaks your heart and he's standing right there in front of you, daring you to take a sip of bad luck.

"The hell, right?" You nonchalantly say then you bravely sip your wine.

His eyes don't stray away from you even after you return his dare to him, he keeps staring at your face with his mouth slightly parted open and his tongue peeking out on one corner of his mouth.

"Let's make a toast!" Edouard says, being the first to raise his glass in the air.

-

YOU: I think my shine bothers people a little but I'm not here to please anyone [grins] I play tennis in my spare time so I am quite competitive. I think I have the biggest chance to win this show... I will be the first person to score [giggles] and I always get what I want.

-

A big splashing sound startles you this time and it's coming from Pablo who jumps into the swimming pool. Soon, the other guys join him in the pool while the girls remain on the side, not wanting to risk ruining their hair or their make-up.

"Are you girls going to stand there?" Pablo asks, squinting his eyes to look at the girls.

"You have no idea what it's like drying this hair," Frida says with a subtle eye roll.

"It takes me forever to do my hair, I'm not getting it wet now," Marie adds.

You also remain on the side by sitting on the edge of the pool next to Vic with your feet dipped in the warm pool water.

Not long after, the males join the girls on the side of the pool to drink more champagne, talking about random things from the strangest places everyone has had sex to everyone's sexual preferences.

You're draining your wine glass empty when the question aimed at you, "How about you? Are you bi?"

"I think everyone is bisexual here," Edie playfully remarks.

You decide to swallow your drink first then wipe your lips after, "I've kissed girls but I don't know..." you doubtfully answer.

Vic puts her drink away and turns her head at you, "Let's test it then."

She grabs you by the chin and slowly brings your head closer so she can place a nice peck on your lips. You let out a smile when she lets go.

"That's nice," you genuinely say.

"I want some too," Pablo says who happens to witness the kiss.

You and Vic simultaneously burst into laughter at his sudden request but then she signals you to give him a peck together with her. You happen to want to fool around so you play along with her and give Pablo a quick three-way kiss with Vic.

"We could do better!" Pablo says, teasing for another go at it.

Vic laughs and puts her hand on your thigh, "Come on! You can do better!" She says to you.

Feeling challenged, you lean in first to kiss Pablo and Vic joins in a second later, you can feel their lips on you and the occasional tongue licks in between. You pull away first but Vic gets her hand on the nape of your neck, not letting you pull away from her kiss yet until she lets go.

The next thing you know, Diego and Frida are kissing and so are Andy and Edie, not caring that you're sitting next to them and trying so hard to ignore them.

-

YOU: I think our silly little kisses stirred things up and made everyone horny [chuckles]

-

Not going to lie, Hyunjin likes seeing you kiss another girl. Not the part where Pablo is involved but the part where Vic latched onto your lips after you pulled away from the kiss, that's just hot it gets him a little flustered.

All he can think of right now is when he's going to have his turn to kiss you.

"Are you guys going to stay in the pool? Because I want to see the bedrooms," Frida says, encouraging everyone to start exploring the villa.

"Oh, yeah. I want to see the bedrooms," Diego says, hurriedly getting out of the pool.

Hyunjin follows the majority by heading to the bedrooms even though he wants to stay in the pool a little longer, leaving a trail of wet footsteps behind him.

From the back, he can see that some couples are forming. First, there is Diego and Frida as they lead the group, walking hand-in-hand to the bedrooms. Next to him is Andy and Edie, walking side by side while cutely smiling at each other.

Hopefully, the third couple would be you and him, he can imagine how powerful would that be but before that, he has to take care of Pablo who has had his eyes on you ever since you shared a kiss with him.

The girls are squealing the moment they set their feet in the bedrooms but Hyunjin gets it why everyone is so excited at the sight of the beds.

"Guys, there's only six beds and there's ten of us," Frida says, making it even more obvious to everyone,

"Then we'll have to share," Andy innocently says.

"Who sleeps with whom?" Frida asks a provoking question.

Vic climbs onto the bed and takes your hand to join her, then starts to jump on it while holding hands.

Hyunjin randomly picks a bed and sits on it, ignoring that his trunks are dripping wet from swimming just to watch you bouncing on the bed like a kid having a sugar rush. It's a delightful thing to see until he hears the sound of the bed breaking down and the two of you abruptly stop jumping on it, collapsing onto the bed just to break into laughter.

"Guys, there's another way we could break the beds," Marie scolds you both.

But that only heightens the hilarity and you both break into another wave of laughter together.

After a moment, you go to another bed and lie down. Hyunjin wants to use this opportunity to make you his bed partner but Pablo beats him to it.

-

HYUNJIN: Everyone wants to have someone to cuddle with tonight and I know who I want to share the bed with [smirks]

-

While the boys are gathered in the gazebo in the backyard, the girls choose the lounge to gather with drinks have been served on the wooden table. What else is there to talk about but the ones that aren't in the room with them: The boys.

"A toast for us girls!" Edie initiates a toast with the glasses filled with chilled wine.

The girls then take a seat on the curved sofa and get comfortable talking about their choice of guys, unlike you who still need time to openly share things with them.

"I'd hook up with everyone but the one I like best is Edouard," Vic says.

"For me, it's Edouard, Hyunjin, and Andy..." Edie cracks a laugh at herself and continues, "I think we should all kiss each other."

You see that Edouard is quite popular among the girls and you can see why, he's tall, he has that chocolate skin and a great smile, plus he talks in a sexy accent, everyone wants a piece of that French man.

"Okay then we should jump on Edouard and everyone gets a kiss," Edie says with a hysterical laugh.

Everyone is free to be with whoever they want to be and this doesn't bother you at all but if everyone kissed your man, you don't think you'll like it that much.

"You can kiss anyone except my Diego," Frida says, putting her ownership over him already.

"I think you two look great together," Vic says while holding her glass close to her lips.

"But girl, I want to hook up with him too," Marie says, in the most unapologetic way.

"Oh, girl..." Frida awkwardly sighs, deciding not to respond to that.

It suddenly turns quiet and awkward in here, worse is you're sitting between Frida and Marie, your eyes glancing side to side to see if there's a potential to be a catfight here. Thankfully, things stay civil but you need a big gulp of wine.

Today is only the first day in paradise and you can see some things happening already. Some people are forming couples but you think everyone should get to know each other first. While the others are scattering around to make a move on their person of interest, you decide to have a moment for yourself to truly enjoy the paradise.

All of a sudden, someone comes from behind you and interrupts the peaceful moment.

"May I sit here?" Pablo asks.

He doesn't wait for your answer but takes a seat on your sunlounger and forces you to scoot to the side to make space for him.

"Yeah, sure," you awkwardly say.

He puts his arm around you and makes you rest your head on it, sharing the sunlounger.

"Miss me?" He asks.

"It hasn't been that long," you jokingly say with sheer sarcasm.

"Come here to tell you I can't stop thinking about our kiss," he mutters to you.

You did the three-way kiss with him to fool around but it seems like he's the only one thinking it's more than that, "Yeah?"

He has his hand on your jaw and turns your head to the side so he can kiss you. You let him have a kiss then quickly pull away.

He then presses his mouth close to your ear and whispers, "I think we should share the bed so we can do more than a kiss tonight."

You turn your head the other way and laugh it off, pretending to fix your hair when you're actually trying to put a space between you and him.

He senses that too but instead of letting you have that space, he pulls you closer and kisses your cheek, "Are you scared of getting too close to me?"

"No..." you weakly answer.

Pablo is what you call a textbook player, you recognize the games he's playing but what gives you the ick is how clingy he is. You don't know how to say that to him without hurting his ego.

"I like to talk. I talked to the other guys and all, and I want us to talk too," you say to him.

But Pablo doesn't want to do that, he comes for you for one thing only and it's not talking. He suddenly turns quiet and reclines on the lounger, he stares out at the view, letting the silence turn awkward.

"It's a gorgeous villa," he says out of the blue.

"Mmh, yeah."

"I think I want to see the rest of it," he says, getting up from the lounger to explore the villa.

-

YOU: With Pablo... [sighs] I think he came on too strong and we're lacking in conversations.

-

Pablo had his chance at you and he blew it.

That doesn't worry Hyunjin. He always has a good aim so he won't hesitate to take his turn to take a shot at you. He knows it's the right time to make a move on you since you're alone, lying inside the hammock while looking at the view of the sea.

Hyunjin makes his arrival known by coming from the side and showing you the bottle of wine he brings with him to show you that he comes in peace. He sees your smile when you notice him coming.

"Do you mind if I join you?" He politely asks.

"Only if you intend to share that bottle with me," you answer with a sweet smile. You make space on the hammock for him and keep your feet dangling on the edge.

Hyunjin opens the bottle with a loud popping sound and the wine fizzles as it gets exposed to the air. He immediately hands the bottle to you, "You can have the first sip."

You look at him then at the bottle before taking it from his hand.

"What do you think about all this?" He asks while watching you drinking wine straight from the bottle.

You let out a gasp after taking a sip and hand the bottle to him, "It's a bit overwhelming and intense but I like it, it's fun."

He allows himself to have his first sip as he thinks of another thing to ask you, "But you're ready, right?"

You let out a low chuckle and look him in the eyes, "Well, I am, I'm open for anything. I can be a bit emotional but I respect boundaries."

You take the bottle from his hand to take a swig and wipe your lips after, "I just don't want to force anything. Things should come naturally."

"You don't have to worry about that," he pauses midsentence to take his turn to drink wine, "We have that connection."

From the smile that grows bigger on your face, he can tell that Hyunjin is pulling all the right moves. He has that right balance between being a lover and a player, but more importantly, he keeps it real, there's nothing fake in everything he does or says.

"You're so beautiful," he compliments with an intense stare into your eyes to let you know he means it, it's not just a sweet nothing.

"Thanks," You wipe the drop of wine escaping the corner of your mouth and compliment him back, "So are you, you are absolutely gorgeous."

It's hard to concentrate when all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss you and the wine that wet your lips is not helping him.

Hyunjin tilts his head slightly to the side and asks, "What do you like about me?"

You trail the mouth of the bottle with your index finger as you think of an answer.

"The whole thing, I guess,” you answer with a delighted laugh but fiercely stare back into his eyes, “But the eyes, especially."

It's cute that one second, you're shy and the next moment, you're this confident woman who stares right into his soul. He touches his lips to make you avert your attention from them and murmurs, "How about these lips? These lips do work, you know."

He teases you more by touching his lips with his fingers and doubles the intensity of his gaze into your eyes.

"Yeah?" You shyly smile again.

He props a hand against his head and drops his voice as it turns low and sultry, "Want to try them?"

You let out an amused laugh and hold down your hair on your shoulder from the wind, "Well, we drink from the same bottle, may as well..."

Once he notices that you're slowly leaning in, he hurriedly tilts his head upward to let you easily land your lips on his. He kisses you to show you how much he wants it, gently yet passionately. He places his hand on the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss and puts a little more tongue to taste you more.

You taste of wine and sunshine, of sweet, heavenly things. Your kiss is intoxicating yet he can't get enough of it.

"Not bad," you coyly comment once you pull away from the kiss.

Hyunjin thinks he likes you the best when you're both shy and confident at the same time.

-

HYUNJIN: I was really attracted to her immediately. She's hot, she's wonderful, I just couldn't help it [smiles]

-

God! Hyunjin is truly something.

You've been taking gulps of wine to help you calm down, but instead, you get a little tipsy from the accumulated amount of alcohol you've consumed so far. Or it could be from Hyunjin and his dizzying kisses. Oh, the kiss!

Hyunjin is devastatingly beautiful, you feel uglier the longer you see him but at the same time, you can't stop looking at his face. He has those crinkles in his eyes, long dark hair and he has that lean body, but underneath that dreamy look, there's a guy who knows how to get you all hot and bothered.

You hand the bottle of wine to him and then rest your hand on his chest, how his shirt is flapping open from the wind.

"I remember the girls were talking about you guys, we were joking around and then Edie said she wants to hook up with you," you randomly share with him.

He smiles with his mouth full of wine, he swallows it down before talking, "And you're jealous?"

You lightly chuckle and start playing with the button on his shirt, "I mean, we're all free to do whatever we want and if it doesn't happen for us… It's fine with me."

There's a crease formed between his eyebrows, he seems to disagree with your latter remark, "It's happening, no way it won't," he confidently says.

You kind of expected he would say that because that's just a typical answer that you probably heard so many times only that they were in different forms.

"That's sweet," you tell him, "but that's something a player would say."

Hyunjin lets out a low laugh, feeling caught by what you said. He then grips the neck of the bottle and the rings he's wearing clinking against it as he hands it back to you. You feel a little nervous as he intently watches you take a long sip of wine.

"Stop staring at me," you say with a gentle push on his chest, feeling flustered from how he stares at you non-stop.

Yet it only makes him keep doing it, he stares deeper into your eyes and coyly says, "How could I not?"

You slump down in the hammock and use his arm as a pillow, "I'm not used to this. Sending signals is my thing."

Teasing, flirting, seducing... these are your areas of expertise and now, you're the one on the opposite end of these things which makes it feel a little strange. Or it could be Hyunjin being too good at it.

Curious if Hyunjin is still staring at you, you turn your head to the side to only get greeted by his yet another intense stare. You crack a smile because it's the only way you know how to react to it.

"I can't take that smile," he says with adoration fills his eyes.

Without having to touch your cheeks, you know that they're heating from his sweet compliments.

"I like your smile," he compliments again.

"Thank you," you simply respond to him.

He leans in close enough that you can smell his alcohol-tinted breath as he says, "And I really like your kiss."

Hyunjin is truly something. There's nothing more sexier than a guy who knows what he wants and goes for it. The sexiest part of it is he makes you feel wanted.

"What about—"

Without letting you finish your sentence, he crashes his lips against yours. This time, his kiss is more intense than the previous one, it's deeper and hungrier, he doesn't stop his hands from wandering around your body and leaves searing touches on your skin like he's trying to light your body on fire.

Good thing that you don't mind getting burned alive by his desire.

-

YOU: The kiss was kind of romantic but at the same time, I was on fire [chuckles]

-

How this show works is still unclear.

However, the staff have been letting everyone have fun as much as we want and tonight, they're throwing a party in the villa. Even with the lack of context on the show, this is indeed a paradise.

The theme for the party is nautical and you pick a costume out of the selections provided by the staff. You settle on a blue and white striped cropped top and a white mini skirt, and you add a small sailor hat on the top of your head for the accessory.

The beach has been decorated according to the nautical theme but what gets everyone hyped is the round of shots served on the table. Everyone gets their hands on it and Edouard leads the toast to finally allow everyone to take it in one go. You quickly chase it down with a glass of juice to eliminate the bitter aftertaste, trying to stay sober for the rest of the night.

One round of shots is enough to make everyone loosen up and dance to the fast-paced music playing in the villa, Vic makes you dance with her and you're struggling to keep up with her energetic moves.

"Guys, guys, there's a party going on here!" Edie says, pointing at Diego who's having a body shot on Frida's chest.

Everyone is howling at them and not long after, following suit by doing the same thing to each other, you find yourself just standing there witnessing them having a wild time.

Hyunjin eventually comes up to you with glasses of shots in his hands, "Love shot?"

The plan is to stay sober but one more tequila shot shouldn't be a problem, right?

"Sure," you take one from his hand before linking your arms together for a love shot.

In this proximity, you can see the faint mole under Hyunjin's left eye and it's such an endearing thing to know. When you feel his eyes on you though, you get that flutter in your stomach.

"Together in three, two, one..."

You tilt your head as you drain the alcohol in one gulp and you feel it burns down your throat as you swallow it, you can't help but wince again at the bitter aftertaste.

Hyunjin lowly laughs seeing you with your nose scrunched up, he takes the empty shot glass from you and puts them away.

"I know how to make it sweet," he says, cupping your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you.

His kiss is more intoxicating than the alcohol you consumed and screws the plan! You want to get drunk on his kisses even though you have to be on your tiptoe and cling to his shoulders for support. He keeps you steady by holding you close, wrapping his arms around your waist, and at times, hoisting you against him to deepen the kiss.

For a second, you forget that anyone can see this and only notice it when you pull away from the kisses to find everyone hooting at you.

The party comes to a halt when the music stops playing and the voice returns.

"Hello, Conquerors. I hope you're enjoying the party."

Andy with his cheeks blushed and bleary eyes, loudly whistling to show how much he enjoyed the party.

"In a few minutes, you'll have a special guest, a special international star," the voice announces.

That gets everyone intrigued and they start throwing random famous names around, hoping that one of their guesses is true.

"Enjoy the party!" The voice finishes.

The lights dim and the spotlight appears, beaming on the gate, raising everyone's anticipation about who the special guest is. You don't have any expectations but with everything you experienced so far in this villa, you reckon it's something special indeed.

The gate slowly opens only to reveal a cone sitting atop a barrel which you instantly recognize who she is and the actual show you're in.

"Oh, God, no," you mutter to yourself in denial.

"Look at— It's Lana!" Edie hysterically says, making it obvious to everyone.

"Yeah. It's her. It's Lana for real," Vic confirms.

As if that wasn't enough to make it real, the cone chimes and lights up, making her presence known to everyone.

"Fuck it. Let's kiss one last time," Edie says

She impulsively goes around kissing everyone, including you and everyone else doesn't want to miss the last chance at it and do the same. You must admire her boldness for that but you get a little jealous when she kisses Hyunjin, especially after knowing you can't kiss him whenever you want.

-

YOU: I know it's all too good to be true [sighs] This paradise has turned into hell.

-

When Hyunjin sees Lana, his mind goes blank.

First, it's a cone. Secondly, he doesn't know it has a name and it's Lana. And thirdly, Lana is going to ban everyone from doing sexual stuff which goes against his plan.

How did he end up here? Wait, no, he doesn't regret being here but he regrets not knowing what he put himself in which is a sexless retreat. Imagine being an alcoholic and you came looking like a bottle of fine wine, then he got told that he's not allowed to drink it. He can't be the only one seeing how messed up this is.

"As you know, I'm Lana, the hostess of this retreat. I'm back and fully updated for this season," the cone introduces herself with a different robot voice.

A few are clapping in response but the rest are still in shock at the turn of events, except Andy, who is too drunk to even process this much information.

"According to my data, all of you are real players who wouldn't be allowed in any paradise."

"Wow, she's sassy!" Vic comments.

"She's Lana, she can be sassy as much as she wants," Frida says, crossing her arms in front of her in defeat.

"Therefore, my goal is to offer a good environment for your personal development."

Hyunjin looks around to see not even a single face is looking happy about this, especially Edouard, he's been quiet and Hyunjin believes he is in a state of shock right now.

"As part of your social development, I have allocated a prize of $200,000."

"Okay, now we're talking," Pablo says.

That gets everyone cheering up a little but that doesn't mean they're not dreading the terms and conditions that come with it.

"And the prize will be decreased every time one of my rules is broken."

There goes the catch. Nothing ever comes off easy, especially with that much money. Maybe it's easy for some people to choose money over sex but for a bunch of horny people like them, it's doubtful.

"Tell us the rules then," Pablo says, being the only one enthusiastic about all this.

"No physical interaction aiming at sexual pleasure is allowed," Lana informs.

"Well, shit!" You and Vic mutter at the same time, then burst into laughter together.

"Does cuddling count?" Diego asks but his question remains unanswered as Lana continues with the list of rules everyone needs to adhere to.

"The following are forbidden: kissing, heavy petting, and any kind of sex."

Edouard recovers from shock only to descend into another state of shock after hearing the rules. He holds his head with both arms, completely devastated by it.

"This also applies to any form of sexual gratification, by yourself or together."

"Fuck, no!" Hyunjin reflexively reacts.

He thinks this one rule goes against his rights, his body belongs to him therefore he should be free to do whatever he wants with it.

"And since you didn't respect my arrival, $20,000 has been deducted from the prize fund," Lana comes with the most shocking announcement of all.

"Oh, fuck!" Pablo curses out loud.

"No, come on!" Vic complains.

Everyone suddenly regrets having that one last kiss and losing that much money when the retreat has barely begun yet.

'The prize fund now stands at $180,000."

"Oh, no man," Diego sighs.

Edie, the one who initiated that open bar of kisses innocently says, "Just let it go, guys."

"Welcome to Too Hot To Handle," Lana concludes, marking the party is over for everyone.

-

HYUNJIN: [Laughs] I have to laugh so I don't cry [sadly chuckles]

-

Once Lana has shown herself and revealed what the show actually is, the parts of the villa that were off-limits are now accessible. You get to see the dressing room and the girls are taking their time in here, wiping their make-up clean while enjoying what is possibly the coziest part of the villa.

"I think we all should chill tonight," Frida suddenly says as she ties a scarf around her curly hair.

The girls are giving her the side eyes, questioning the meaning behind her words.

"We already spent twenty grand so..." Frida reminds everyone.

"Yeah..." Vic half-heartedly responds.

Frida has a good intention but you're not sure if everyone is going to obey her words just because it's the right thing to do.

You're not going to deny the fact that you had those kinds of impulses and most of the time, you went with them without thinking so trying to not do that habit will be a struggle for you.

Thankfully, you're sharing the bed with Vic tonight and you think that's a safe option for now, you don't want to jump on the bed with any of the boys yet.

As you make your way to the bed at the end of the room, Pablo stretches his hand out at you, gesturing you to come to his bed. You thought he wanted to chat but he makes space on the bed for you, asking you to climb into the bed.

Noticing the puzzled look on your face, he asks, "Aren't you sleeping with me?"

As far as you remember, Vic is the only one who asked you to be her bed partner and you didn't mention anything about it to anyone else, especially Pablo.

"I'm sleeping with Vic," you answer him.

The warm expression on his face turns icy in a second, he pulls the duvet to his chest and clutches at it, "So this is how it's going to be," he says like a fussy child.

"It's only the first day," you simply explain which should be enough to let him know that the bed arrangement is not permanent.

But Pablo's mood is way too off for you to salvage, "Are you staying away from me?" He wildly accuses you.

You immediately shake your head, "No."

"I want to sleep with you but you're making me sleep alone," he grumbles.

"There will be other days," you tell him.

"Are you sure about that?" He says with an unkind stare.

You don't see why he has to be this upset about the bed situation while everyone else can sort it out without having to throw a tantrum like this.

Still, you choose to keep your calm and respond with a light chuckle.

Pablo shifts on the bed and clutches his duvet up to his neck, "Goodnight," he says with an angry tone.

"Are you mad?" You meekly ask.

"No," he replies then ends the conversation with yet another angry goodnight.

You didn't notice that Frida is witnessing all of this on the next bed and you feel embarrassed even though you're not the one acting childish.

Not wanting to make him more angry, you get to your bed and Vic is already there, sitting cross-legged and wearing a cropped top and boy shorts as her sleeping attire.

You sit on the end of the bed facing away from Pablo's bed, "I think we found the worst one," you tell her with a repulsed expression.

Vic laughs and is open to listening to your rant about what just happened between you and Pablo, and how childish the whole situation is.

Then she uses her eyes to gesture at Pablo's bed, "Diego and Frida have to deal with his bad mood now," she lowly mutters.

You take a few seconds before glancing over your shoulder to see Pablo talking about it to Diego and Frida on the bed next to him.

When you look back at Vic, you both let out a laugh at the same time.

-

YOU: Here I thought I was intense but jeez... [chuckles] Pablo is too intense.

-

The cone chimes and startles everyone in the room who's barely awake from their sleep yet.

"Good morning, everyone," Lana greets.

"Morning, Lana girl," Edie replies with a hoarse voice.

"How was your night?" Lana asks.

Everyone is answering with groans and grumbles, there are just too many complaints coming all at once.

"This is a reminder that this show is no longer Conquerors of Paradise and the only thing left for you to conquer is your sexual urges."

Another series of groans is coming from everyone and echoing in the room in response to Lana's announcement. It's obviously not the kind of thing everyone wants to get in the morning: a reality check.

"We lost 20k you guys," Pablo says, squeezing the cushion on his lap.

"He keeps reminding us," Edouard says with a light chuckle.

"It was epic. Everyone enjoyed it," Andy comes in defense even though he looks groggy with his bleary eyes and his blond hair stuck to his face.

"Yes, but we lost 20k for doing that," Pablo says again.

Hyunjin lets out a chuckle at how Pablo doing exactly what Edouard said, reminding everyone about the money, and after a while, he's aware of what he just did.

"We started on the worst possible way," he makes an argument.

"No, dude. It's the best!" Diego disagrees with him.

Pablo shrugs and brushes his wavy hair to the back, "I mean, financially."

Edie points at Pablo and says, "Look everyone, we got ourselves a bookkeeper."

That amuses everyone, well, except Pablo who strongly shakes his head in disagreement.

"I won't be that person," he remarks.

Edie lets out a sarcastic laugh and says, "Yeah but there's always a bookkeeper."

Whether there'll be a bookkeeper or not, it seems like it won't stop anyone from breaking the rules, including him. But Hyunjin only has one person in mind to do that with and sadly, he's not sharing the bed with you yet. He gets it that maybe you want to keep your options open for now and you don't want to be haste on a decision.

He feels relieved though that you're not sleeping with another guy which means that he still has a chance to have you as a bed partner and he's ready to make that happen.

-

HYUNJIN: When I feel like it's something I really want, I'm going to go for it [smirks]

-

A session of yoga with Frida and two glasses of juice helped you to sober up completely, you feel less like shit after a shower and even better once you dressed up for the day.

You decide to spend the afternoon sunbathing by the pool and on the way there, you spot Pablo already occupying one of the loungers.

It reminds you of what happened last night and how it feels unpleasant whenever you recall it, you hate that things went awry between you and him so you decide to try to talk about it with him.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" You ask, taking a seat on the next lounger.

Pablo squints his eyes to look at you and stays reclining on the lounger, "Nah."

You want to approach things kindly to not get misunderstood again so you carefully pick your words before letting them out.

"Okay, so... I think last night we had a miscommunication and after that talk, I don't like how it created tension between us," you begin by assessing the issue head-on.

He wipes the sheen of sweat on his forehead and turns his head at you, "Yeah."

"I want you to know that I didn't get on the bed with you not because I didn't want to," you calmly explain to get your message across, "I just don't remember having that conversation about the—"

"I wanted to talk to you about it but I don't like pulling you away from the others, it's annoying," he cuts you off and gets defensive.

This is what you don't like about him, he's not even letting you finish your explanation first and you doubt he even listened to you at all.

"You know what, you're free to do whatever you want, we can finish talking—"

It's your turn to cut him off and get defensive, "That's not it. You don't listen. You don't let me speak."

"Everyone gets to know me a little but you, you're always distant," he starts an argument yet again.

"We both know that everyone has their own way of getting to know someone," You're losing a bit of your cool as you said it.

"I can talk to everyone but I can't talk to you," he remarks.

That sounds like Pablo has made up his mind, he doesn't want to either listen or talk, he wants to stop interacting with you altogether and it sounds final.

"For me, I think we just have to stop talking about it," you try to salvage what can be saved from it even though you're not really that confident about it.

"It's over," he finalized it on his own.

It's such a shame that he closes himself immediately without giving himself a chance to be open, even to keep things on good terms between you and him.

"Okay, then," you say in defeat, choosing to leave because your presence seems to bother him.

-

YOU: Despite everything, I wished to remain friends with him but it seems like that won't work either.

-

With Pablo constantly avoiding you, you don't have to worry about bumping into him or starting a conversation with him and the fact that he's the one who broke it off only makes you feel less guilty about it and somehow liberated. You're hanging out in the firepit with Vic and Edie, just chatting and drinking wine in between, enjoying the warm night.

In the middle of Edie delivering a funny anecdote, Hyunjin comes into view and she abruptly stops talking. There's something about him that makes people couldn't help but look at him and he's taking everyone's attention with how impeccable he looks tonight.

Hyunjin is wearing this printed shirt that would look tacky on some people but he pulls it off just fine, more than fine to be exact. He looks dashing, overflowing with charisma.

"Hey," he says to everyone but his eyes landed on you in the end.

You would have mistaken him for a statue if he weren't talking, you hurriedly get ahold of yourself and say hi back to him.

"Can I borrow her for a minute?" He asks either Vic or Edie.

Vic puts her arm around you and pulls you closer, "No, you can't," she jokingly says to him.

Hyunjin sheepishly smiles and offers his hand at you once you break free from Vic's hold, taking his hand to help you get up from the sofa.

"See you guys later," you say to Vic and Edie as he leads you in the direction of the beach.

The beach offers a different view with the pale moonlight that shines down on the sea and the surface of the water reflecting the starry night sky at you. He takes you to sit on the bench next to him and you take a moment to get rid of the sand caught in your shoes, doing it quietly to not ruin the moment.

"You look amazing," Hyunjin compliments with a sheepish smile.

"You too. I like the shirt," you compliment back and it's not a hard thing to do when he looks that good.

A gust of wind blows your way and it makes your hair fly around so does Hyunjin's, he can easily brush it to the back and it won't make a big difference while you can only hope that you don't look like you just rolled out of the bed.

He catches the stray hair floating around your face and safely tucks it behind your ear, his hand lingers there for a moment before he lightly touches your necklace.

"I like this," he murmurs.

You hold your breath even though his finger touches the pendant on your necklace and makes no contact with your skin whatsoever.

"Thank you," you mutter.

It's so quiet except for the constant sounds of the waves lapping the seashore and it seems like Hyunjin takes his time to talk and just be alone with you. After a moment passes you and him exchanging cryptic gazes at each other, and he finally begins talking.

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Yes," you reply, curious about what he wants to share with you.

"I don't know how to say this but you're just my type," he pauses to lick his lips, making them wetter and tempting you to do something about it.

"You have everything that I like about a girl. You're super attractive, and you're a bit shy but at the same time, you exude confidence which I eat that up."

Like it isn't obvious enough, Hyunjin boldly remarks, "Dare I say that you're my dream girl."

You remind yourself to keep your cool even though this beautiful man just told you that you're his ideal type of girl and it takes everything in you not to let out a hysterical scream.

"Do you have anyone you fancy here?"

You thought it was obvious to him but of course, he needs to hear it from you directly, "Well, I want to get to know you."

"But do you fancy anyone else?" He asks again.

You see that Hyunjin is here to make sure your head is not turning anywhere else, you want to keep your options open but for now, he's number one on your list. Still, you don't know what he's playing at so you stay cautious about it.

"You're my number one right now," you openly share with him.

A smile blooms on his face and Hyunjin nods in approval, his hand secretly inching closer to yours.

"What do you think about sharing a bed with me?" He asks with eyes that are filled with such intensity.

"Sharing a bed? With you?" You ask him back instead of answering, just so there's nothing lost in translation.

"Yes," he hastily answers.

You pretend to consider it for a while before nodding and coyly saying, "Okay."

He looks at you and the moment your eyes meet, you both crack a laugh at the same time like two teenagers in love.

"That leads me to another question," he continues.

You tilt your head to the side and hold all of your hair on one shoulder, "Yes?"

 "The rules are set, but that doesn't mean we have to follow them," he says to you

You always know that he's not giving a single fuck about the rules or having any intentions to follow them, and that scares you but in an exhilarating way.

"What would it take to get you to break the rules?" He asks with devilish glints filling his eyes.

That sounds more like a threat rather than a question but you don't feel threatened at all, you feel thrilled instead.

"Let's make it happen," he seductively says with inviting eyes and his teeth faintly biting his lower lip.

His words really are enchantments and you feel like submitting to his wishes without thinking, however, your conscience leads you the other way.

"I want to make it happen," you honestly tell him and because it's true, there's nothing you want more than kiss those luscious lips he occasionally lick and bite, and quench the thirst you have for this man.

"But we can't be the first," you continue.

There's no denying that at one point, you and Hyunjin will break the rules but you refuse to be the first to do that. The amount of shit anyone will get for being the first to rule break makes you shudder.

"We'll see," Hyunjin says with a nod.

He suddenly backs away and his hand flies to his lips, index, and middle fingers rubbing them as he's looking at you with observing eyes.

A thought crosses your head and it makes you think if Hyunjin suddenly loses interest after you indirectly rejected him and you start to overthink it until he leans in closer than before.

He tilts his head downward and looks at you through his lashes, then softly he says, "You're going to rule break with me."

-

YOU: This just feels like "Ooh..." I get a little chill from it. I need more.

-

This is the time to be afraid.

You're sharing the bed with Hyunjin tonight and those impulses will likely appear, and you're a hundred percent sure going to struggle to not go with it.

A smile rises on Hyunjin's face when you come and climb onto the bed. He throws the extra cushions onto the floor and pats your pillow before letting you rest on it.

"Thank you," you mutter, lying on the bed next to him.

Initially, you planned not to jump on the bed with a guy yet but something tells you that you may have something more with Hyunjin and you want to cultivate that further. He endearingly puts away the hair covering the side of your face so he can nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck.

"Mmh... you smell really nice," he sighs with eyes closed.

It's not much about the praise but the way he said it, softly yet seductively. And the warm breath that fans your neck isn't helping you to think of something to say back to him.

Somehow, you end up lying facing him on the bed and his face is merely inches away from yours. While the others are having a chat in the room, you both just look at each other and hold hands under the cover.

"I'm already dying to kiss you," he lowly mutters, not letting anyone else hear it.

You smile at that and are still unable to think of something to say when he's constantly having your eyes locked in a gaze with him.

"How am I going to kiss you?" He asks in a whispery voice.

He brings his head closer to you until his forehead meets yours, "I can't do it. I'm fucked," he whispers.

It seems like what he said to you triggered an impulse out of you and he best believes that you want to kiss him so badly too. However, you decide to have a little control over your impulses.

"We can do it like this," you suggest an idea by kissing two of your fingers then transfer the kiss by placing them on his plush lips.

Hyunjin chuckles and grabs your hand, he laces his fingers with yours before pushing it close to his chest.

"That's not enough," he says with an adorable pout.

You slowly lean in and place a sweet kiss on his cheek, letting go with a smile on your face.

"If you can go a little to the left and a bit further down, I'd really appreciate it," he playfully says.

You giggle at his creative effort to make you kiss him and as the lights switch off, Hyunjin overlaps your body with yours, then carefully, rests his head on your chest.

You put your hand in his dark locks and feel them slipping between your fingers as you brush them with your fingers.

"Your hair is so soft," you murmur.

"My lips are soft too," he murmurs back to you.

You lowly chuckle at his another effort to make you kiss him and instead of giving him that, you give him a gentle pat on the head.

"Goodnight," you murmur.

Hyunjin places a kiss on your neck and murmurs back, "Goodnight."

Even with your eyes closed, you're constantly battling your impulses not to kiss him or think of his body being on top of you.

-

YOU: I’m used to be the one getting the attention but all the girls here are stunning and finally, someone interested in me and it’s Hyunjin. [smiles]

-

Hyunjin feels the need to pinch himself on the cheek to know that it's not a dream.

He wakes up next to you and seeing your face the moment he opens his eyes this morning, you look so peaceful as you soundly sleep next to him that he doesn't dare to wake you up.

It's when the lights are on, that he sees your eyes fluttering open like a pair of butterfly wings, a mesmerizing thing to see in the morning.

"Morning," he softly says to you.

You sleepily smile as you rub the sleep of your eyes and slowly hoist yourself up to have a sip of water from your tumbler.

Everyone else is also waking up from their slumber, looking disoriented and sleepy, but not you, you look so angelic with a bare face and tousled hair.

"You look really good in the morning," he compliments you.

You grin with your mouth full of water, then mutter your gratitude once you swallow it. You probably think that the compliments he's giving you are just sweet nothings and that's okay, he understands if you think that way but that won't stop him from doing it.

"Morning, my man!" Hyunjin says as he makes eye contact with Andy who sleeps on the next bed.

He foolishly grins at him with his messy blond hair, "How was your sleep?"

Hyunjin uncaps his water tumbler while looking at him, "I had a boner all fucking night last night."

He wishes he was joking but it's true, he didn't have any problems when he shared the bed with Marie on the previous night and he thinks it happens because he's physically attracted to you. If only you knew how much he refrained from not kissing your lips or touching you all over when your body lying so close to him and molding against his body.

"What do you usually do in the morning?" You curiously ask while tying your hair into a messy bun.

How can he concentrate on answering your question when it's mesmerizing to see how you gather all of your hair at the top of your head, exposing your beautiful neck to him?

"Swimming," he finally replies.

Spotting a strand of hair escaping your bun, he tucks it for you behind your ear.

"What about you?" He asks back.

"Uhm... watching you swim," You answer with a cheeky laugh.

"I'd go skinny dipping then," he jokingly says.

"I'd love that even more," you joke back.

You're just too cute, he feels like squeezing you like you were a plush toy but instead of that, he nuzzles his head into your neck trying to tickle you.

Hyunjin does what he planned, he goes swimming on the beach instead of working out with the other guys and has breakfast after. He changes into a sleeveless top and swimming trunks, he is about to find you when he gets the notice that everyone gets called to the cabana.

Seeing that you're already wedged between Vic and Frida, Hyunjin has no other choice but to share the small sofa with Edouard on the side of the room.

Lana chimes shortly after everyone settled on their seats, "Hello, everyone."

"Hi, Lana," everyone replies at the same time in various tones.

"I regret to inform you that the rules of my retreat have already been broken," Lana announces.

Hyunjin doesn't know why everyone acts surprised when every single person in there has contributed to the first rule break that costs $20,000 at the beginning of the retreat.

A minute passes in silence as everyone tries to guess who has done these rule breaks.

"Okay? Who is it?" Marie asks around with her eyes scanning for any guilty faces.

Unbeknownst to him, the guy sitting next to him raises his hand. His first thought is who Edouard got it with? He can't know for sure with these people but he hopes it's not with you.

"We had a moment and we took it," Edouard says.

"Who's we?" You ask him with a knowing glance shot at Vic.

Okay, now he knows who Edouard got it with and playfully elbows his side to tease him.

"Vic and I," Edouard calmly answers, "It was nice, it's exactly what I wanted it to be and I'm open to seeing where things go with her."

Instead of complaining, everyone is cooing at him and admiring how earnestly he handles it. Hyunjin must admit that he's being a true gentleman for coming clean immediately.

"The kiss has cost the group $3,000," Lana informs.

And that isn't the worst one yet as Lana continues to reveal more rule breakers, "They were not the only ones to break the rule."

"Oh, stop it!" Marie says with the thickest British accent he ever heard coming out of her mouth.

For pure entertainment, Hyunjin tries to guess who else has broken the rules and he notices that Andy is exceptionally quiet right now when everyone knows he's the most talkative one.

"You've been hella quiet, Andy," he teases him.

In a second, the calm on Andy's face shatters, and he starts grinning out of panic for being caught hiding something.

"With Edie, yeah," he finally admits.

"There we go," Pablo mutters then lets out a heavy sigh.

It seems like Edie has been holding her breath the whole time when the truth finally out, her shoulders slumped as anxiety exits her body.

"I'm sorry, I did want to tell you guys, sorry," She says to everyone.

"The kiss has cost the group $3,000," Lana further informs.

Hyunjin thought he was the only one struggling to resist temptations but these rule-breakers have proven that he's not that bad after all.

-

HYUNJIN: Damn! I'm missing all the fun here [chuckles]

-

You keep teasing Vic for secretly having a kiss with Edouard and not telling you about it, she keeps giggling as you ask for details from her in whispers.

You can tolerate Vic and Edouard's rulebreak because you know how much Vic fancies him and it's great that Edouard fancies her back. Meanwhile, Andy and Edie's rule break, there's Edie in the equation so it's bound to happen but that'll be it, right? Because people would have said something by now if they did something.

Right?

"That is not all," Lana shockingly reveals.

Oh, you and your mouth. Honestly, though, what can you expect from these people who spent 20k when the retreat had hardly begun?

"There was one more breach of the rules," Lana informs.

You look from side to side, observing the people you're sharing the sofa with and then you see Frida fidgeting next to you.

"Shit," she lowly mutters to herself.

Diego and Frida are just too horny for each other so that's a given, but you're going to give them the chance to own up to their mistake.

"Just come clean and we'll keep our trust in you," Marie says to make anyone confess to their rulebreak.

Frida lets out an annoyed sigh then turns at Diego, "We should tell them!"

It annoys you too that Diego chooses to stay silent the whole time only to prolong the process not only for himself but also for everyone here.

Vic gently taps Frida's knee and asks, "Just a kiss?"

Frida sighs again and then meekly answers, "Two kisses."

But it annoys you still that Diego hasn't said anything but keeps his mouth shut while Frida is taking all the blame herself.

"Diego, say something!" You urge him.

Diego puts on a stupid grin and innocently says, "Surprise!"

Now, you wish he would keep his mouth shut, you roll your eyes at him and get more upset than before.

"These multiple kisses have cost the group $6,000."

One, or two kisses are acceptable but once everyone finds out how much a kiss costs, they're not sure if those kisses were worth it.

"That was expensive," you grumble out of reflex.

"What's done is done, guys," Diego coyly says, taking these rule breaks lightly like it didn't get everyone penalized for it.

"The prize fund now stands at $168,000," Lana comes up with the final bill at the end.

At this rate, you're not optimistic about having any money left at the end of the retreat.

"With 50% of you having already broken the rules, you have left me with no choice. From this point forward, all fines will be doubled," Lana comes with another shocking announcement like it isn't hard enough to accept today's financial loss.

"That's just great," Pablo sarcastically comments.

"Goodbye," Lana concludes with a grim goodbye.

-

YOU: It was hard to resist temptations, as I did with Hyunjin but what's the point if people are going to act like this?

-

Is it possible to get a boner from holding hands? Hyunjin thinks it's possible because he's close to having one as the two of you walk to the beach hand-in-hand, and you're swinging it back and forth as you go.

"I'm a bit nervous," you mutter to him.

"Why?"

"I don't know," you innocently reply with a giggle.

It's just a workshop and you shouldn't be nervous but he doesn't mind seeing you being this cute when you're nervous. Arrived at the beach, everyone gets greeted by a lady who he assumes is going to be one leading the workshop.

"Welcome to your first workshop in the retreat," she says to everyone.

The staff tells everyone to pair up and take places on the platforms provided for everyone. Obviously, Hyunjin is paired up with you because he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hello, I'm Jax and I'm a relationship expert," she introduces herself with a courteous smile.

Everyone gives her a round of applause to warmly welcome her.

"It is obvious that everybody here has a lot of sexual energy and that is preventing you from achieving meaningful connections so what I'm going to teach in this workshop is new ways to channel that energy," she explains what's the aim of today's workshop.

Hyunjin notices the bowls of paint on the side of the platform and guesses that the workshop has something to do with them.

"So the goal right now, instead of doing what you might usually do and look for that physical release, you are going to grab the paint and transfer all of that sexual power and make a piece of art like you've never made before," Jax further explains.

"You'll notice that you're standing on blank canvases and your bodies are the brushes. Are you ready?"

"Yes!" Everyone replies in unison.

Jax senses everyone's excitement and smiles, "Alright. Let's do it!"

Hyunjin brings the bowls of paint over to the middle of the big canvas you both standing on and sitting there, can't decide what to do first.

"What color do you want?" He asks you.

"Uhm... pink?" You randomly choose out of the three different colors.

He picks it up and before he dips his fingers in them, an idea crosses his mind, "Lay down for me," he tells you.

You obey him without complaint but first, you have your hair tied into a high bun to not letting the paint all over it. You carefully lay yourself down and immediately shield your eyes from the bright sun with your hand, "What are you going to do?"

Before answering, Hyunjin sits next to you with a bowl of paint in one hand, "I'm going to do this," he says, rubbing the paint on the tip of your nose.

You scrunch your nose in reaction and playfully laugh, it seems that it works to help you loosen up.

"I'm going to draw the outline of your body," he finally tells you his plan.

"Okay," you say in approval.

Using his big hands, Hyunjin diligently works his drawing of the outline of your body on the canvas, intentionally nudging some parts of your body while doing it but what he anticipates the most is drawing the space between your legs.

"Can you pass me the blue, beautiful?" He sweetly asks since the paint is only an arm's length away from you.

You glance to the side and drag the bowl with your fingers until it's close enough for him to reach.

He scoops the blue paint with his hand and slowly draws the outline of your legs, he maintains eye contact with you as his hand climbs up the side of your legs. He can see that you're slightly arching your back as the back of his hand brushes the skin of your inner thigh and you raise your knee as his hand is inches away from that thing between your legs.

Then he abruptly stops and quickly retracts his hand from you, instantly depriving you of his touch. He hears your low, disappointed sigh and smiles in satisfaction at that, he decides to hover above you, shielding you from the sun with his body.

"Let's spice things up a little, yeah?" He murmurs with his face only inches away from yours and you're looking at him with wide, open eyes.

Before you can think of a response, Hyunjin lathers the remaining paint on his hand onto your chest. You gasp as the sticky texture of the paint makes contact with your skin then he drags it down to your abdomen.

He has to hold the urge to drag his hand further down and stop as his hand meets the straps of your bikini bottom, tugging at it before dragging his hand up your side.

"I'm not the canvas here," you remind him.

Oh, but your body is a canvas to him and he wants to paint you with his kisses, his touches, his bites, his marks, and his—

Splat! You unknowingly splash yellow paint onto his abs and laugh from successfully catching him off guard. He immediately catches your hand and puts it on his stomach, making you smear the paint with your hand around his toned abs.

"Guys, less on the body, more on the canvas!" Jax shouts, getting everyone back on track with the true purpose of the workshop.

"It's my turn on the top," you say to him with a sly smile on your face.

-

HYUNJIN: This is my chance to keep her focus on me. Also, this is a great excuse to get physical [smirks]

-

"Your partner is here to get your sexual energy up as high as possible before you can apply that energy to the canvas," Jax informs while she walks around to check on everyone's work.

But does everyone need the encouragement though? Because it seems like they know what they're doing, using this workshop as an excuse to get physical with their partners. You start to doubt if this is what Jax wants to see, the painting is nowhere close to being called an artwork but the tension keeps building and everyone is only getting hornier and hornier by the second.

And you're about to have your part of the fun as it's Hyunjin's turn to lie down on the canvas.

"Do we have more paints?" You ask while crawling around to find them.

Hyunjin props his elbows against the canvas, helping you to look for them, "I think it's on..."

As he turns to the side to check if you have found them, your crawl back and your asscheek bumps into his head, sending him collapsing onto the canvas.

You immediately turn around and reflexively apologize, "Oh, I'm sorry."

But Hyunjin looks rather enjoying the little incident as he's laughing with his hand on his chest, "No problem at all."

You gather all the bowls of paint close to you and begin to do the outline of Hyunjin's body with the red paint, you start from the bottom since it's going to take more effort to draw his long legs.

Once you're done with that, you decide to tease him by putting your whole weight to sit right on his crotch, making him groan in response.

"You did that on purpose," he says as he looks up at you.

You slyly smile and coyly respond, "You're pretending like that's a problem."

You continue by outlining his upper half body while straddling him while he gets to enjoy seeing you on top of him.

"What are you drawing now?" He curiously asks.

"I'm drawing a crown on top of your head," you answer while keeping your focus on the task at hand.

While you're busy drawing on the canvas, Hyunjin dips his fingers into a bowl of paint to draw on you. He goes for your neck, making small drawings on it with his index finger.

"Are you giving me a neck tattoo?" You ask as you pick different colors of paint for the drawing.

He then makes another small drawing on your chest and finally answers to your question, "Just marking places where I'm going to kiss you later."

That makes you stop for a second and glares at him as he makes another drawing, a little star on your inner thigh which makes you think of his lips getting on that very skin he draws on and it sends a tingle down your spine.

After spending too much time working on him, you get off him and let him inspect your work. He looks at you and places a hand on your back.

"You're quite the artist, babe," he praises with a smile on his face.

One praise is enough to make your cheeks heat and you tend to say stupid things in a situation like this so you only respond with a smile and immediately think of something to avert your attention to before it gets too hot in here, literally and figuratively.

"I think we should start filling the empty spaces," you suggest.

At first, you both go on your way to draw the empty corners of the canvas until he comes over to you, gets behind you, and puts his hands on yours. He puts all of your hands into two different bowls of paint at once and then draws on the canvas together with him.

It makes your brain short-circuit for a while as you can't decide which to put your focus on, on the drawing or how his body molds against yours.

"Let all your sexual energy out..." Jax continuously encourages everyone and notices she's coming over in your direction.

When you think she's going to call you out for not going through the proper way of the workshop, she likes what she's seeing instead.

"Yes, there we go, that's what I want to see!" Jax says.

With that being said, you feel more encouraged to do it and let Hyunjin draw while using your hands as the brushes. He puts your hands in the bowls of paint again and he lathers more paint up your wrists all the while his head is resting on your shoulder.

"Mmh..." you lowly whine as he slips his fingers into you inside the bowls of paint.

The half smirk appears on his face and he takes you to the other side of the canvas, working on it with the same position of him guiding you from the back.

You can hear his constant heavy breathing with the way his head lies so close to yours, but it's the whispers of the praises into your ear that get you flustered.

"Oh, I like that."

"You're doing a good job."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Keep going."

"You're so good with your hands."

The embarrassing part is how you are unable to properly respond to his sweet praises, all your brain can compute the whole time are these incoherent words and mumbles.

"Yeah."

"Mmh."

"Uh-huh."

And also, the occasional low moans that slipped out of your mouth which you believe he heard every single one of it.

By the time the workshop is finished, you can't decide whether you should feel relieved or disappointed that it's over. You doubt it at first but the whole process works on giving you the release you need that you and Hyunjin collapse onto the canvas, tired and out of breath.

"Give yourself a round of applause 'cause you guys did it!" Jax says, giving everyone a round of applause for the hard work.

At the end of the workshop, Jax makes everyone pick up their canvases to show their works for everyone else to admire. Hyunjin puts his hand on the small of your back as the two of you look at your painting while standing next to each other.

You can see yourself and him, the burst of colors, and it may be not a piece of artwork but it is beautiful to you, special even because you and Hyunjin made it.

"What do you think?" He asks.

You take the hand resting on your back, using it to pull him closer to you, "I think we did a good job!"

He smiles and pulls you into a hug, it feels nice and comfortable despite the paint that tainted both of your bodies. He pulls away just enough to look at you and softly says, "Thank you for making this masterpiece with me."

Physical things aside, he made you feel so involved and appreciated, and that shows a lot about his true personality. In other words, you like him a little bit more today.

-

YOU: I am quite convinced that Hyunjin only has eyes for me and that makes him way more attractive than the rest of the boys here.

-

If there's something Hyunjin can take from this workshop is that the sexual tension between you and him is out of this world. There's no other reason for it because all he can think about is how your body felt against him and how beautiful the noises you made when that happened.

Good thing he still has some self-control in him or else... he doesn't even want to think of the other possibilities. But tonight, he wants to try and explore the other possibilities and see if you're up for it.

He patiently waits for you, checking the dressing room once in a while to see if you're done getting ready. He sees an opportunity as you check yourself in the mirror and with a drink ready in his hand, he comes up to you.

"Get you a drink," he says.

You turn to the side and smile, taking the glass of wine from his hand, "Thank you."

You take a small sip while fixing your hair in front of the mirror and Hyunjin takes a stand next to you to get his reflection in the mirror.

"We're kind of matching," you point out.

He doesn't even notice the colors of your clothes because his eyes are busy lusting over your body, only noticing that the tight pants you're wearing match the colors of his shirts.

"Oh, yes, we are," he says, grinning as he likes what he's seeing in the mirror.

Then he remembers his plan for tonight, he places his hand on your back and asks, "Are you done?"

"Uh-huh," you say as your mouth is full of wine.

"Can you come with me?"

"Sure."

The bedroom is empty just like he checked a moment ago and he takes you there because getting you alone is the first thing to do to execute his plan.

He goes to your shared bed, getting on it while you sit on the end of the bed, quietly sipping your wine while he gets to look at you as much as he wants.

He likes your frilly white top as it exposes your beautiful shoulders but what he likes the most is how you don't wear a bra underneath, he can see your nipples subtly poking through the fabric.

"You look good in everything you wear," he sweetly compliments because it's the second thing to do on his plan.

You smile as you take another sip of your wine, half-heartedly taking his compliment and he gets it that you get used to guys complimenting you like this.

"You can pull anything off," he compliments again.

You lick your lower lips after taking a sip and ask, "How about nothing?"

His brain can easily picture you naked in a second and he gets so overwhelmed by it that he lets out an overwhelmed sigh, not hesitate to let you hear it.

"Oof..." he's shaking his head and props his hand against the mattress to lean close to you.

"You absolutely can pull that off too," he adds with a sly smile.

-

HYUNJIN: No one is going to stop me tonight [smirks]

-

How Hyunjin ends up lying between your legs is a mystery but it makes you a little nervous at how his head hanging low so close to where you want him.

He rests his cheek against your inner thigh and fiercely gazing into your eyes, "My god! You make me want to misbehave," he says with a sultry voice.

The glass of wine you have drained is not enough to calm you, it makes you feel a little lightheaded instead, especially seeing Hyunjin run his hand up and down your thigh.

He leans in and you can feel his breath on your exposed midriff, it feels hot on your skin. You feel the need to put on a space so you prop your elbow against the bed only to send his head close to your chest.

"Oh, my God," he mutters with a heavy sigh as his eyes shot at your breasts.

You only put yourself more in the situation but seeing Hyunjin up close like this, oh, he's just so beautiful that you hesitate to touch him. You put away the hair falling over his face and put it away, then gently cup his jaw in your hand.

He looks up at you with his eyes that shine for you, "You're fucking irresistible," he says with his voice dropping lower than before.

There's nothing arouses you more than a guy who openly shares how much he wants you and it stresses you so much that you can't do anything about it.

Without warning, he crawls over and forces you to lie back on the bed as he hovers above you, his hand lifting your leg and hooking it around his waist.

It's getting harder to breathe with how much you're holding yourself back, you suddenly get so hot all over and you look away like it would help you regain your senses.

"I'm so horny," you shamelessly admit.

You hear him lowly laughing then feel his hand grabbing your chin, turning your head at him again. He leans in for a kiss but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"Stop..." you mewl, covering his mouth with your hand.

Hyunjin knows you both want it and that doesn't stop him from going for another try. He keeps touching your exposed skin, lightly with just his fingertips and it's only about time until you fold again.

He places a soft peck on your cheek and mutters, "We can put Lana in the cupboard for a few minutes."

You take a long, deep breath but it's not helping you to calm down, if anything, it only heightens the tension in the room.

"We don't have to think about the rules now. We can think about it tomorrow," he persuades you.

His words are just so sweet and you can easily eat those up.

"We can think about it when it's time," he murmurs as he squeezes the flesh on your waist.

And he just keeps getting sexier and sexier by the second, you can't hold on for too long.

The next thing you know, you grab the nape of his neck and pull him for a kiss. You can tell how much he wants it from how hard and how deep he kisses you, apart from that, he knows how to use his tongue and to bite your lip in between the kiss to spice things up.

Your eyes stay closed even after a moment the kiss ends and find his eyes looking at you, but the first thing you notice is how your lipstick got all over his mouth.

"Oh, no..." you gasp, hurriedly wiping it off his lips.

It's best to wipe the evidence clean to keep this rule break under wraps and not risk becoming everyone's enemy.

"How about my face?" You ask him.

His eyes are looking nowhere but your lips, "You got a little something..." he says, swiping his thumb across your lips only to plant his lips on you again.

Hyunjin is good, he is so good that you don't have anything in you to resist him anymore.

"Oh..." A moan slips out of you as he parts your mouth open only to deepen the kiss.

Fuck it! You can worry about the money tomorrow but now, you're going to enjoy every bit of his kiss, letting yourself so immersed in it that you lost track of time and when he finally let go, you're gasping for air.

"That was really good," you breathlessly tell him.

"That's because you're a good kisser," he coyly says as he gently wipes your lips with his thumb.

"So are you," you whisper back.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway sent Hyunjin collapsing to the side of the bed and gasping in surprise.

"Fuck..." he sighs while running his hand through his hair.

You hurriedly get away from him and sit cross-legged on the bed, finding something to do to make it less suspicious. You end up holding your empty glass with both hands while looking in the direction of the door, anticipating whoever it is about to come into the room.

When the door opens, you put on a calm face and keep yourself busy by playing with your hair, brushing the end with your fingers.

It turns out to be Edie and Andy, they seem to be surprised to see you there too.

"Hey," Edie says, "What are you guys up to?"

Hyunjin is squeezing the cushion on his chest, "We're just chatting," he calmly answers.

It's impressive how Hyunjin can lie in such ease like that but at the same, you feel a bit alarmed by it.

Andy dives headfirst into the bed while Edie sits on the sofa bench in the middle of the room, crossing her legs by the ankle.

"Awesome," Edie responds.

"Pablo is going around telling everyone to not break the rules tonight," Andy says, his blonde hair is swept to the side and makes him look dapper.

"Yeah?" You ask while trying to sound casual.

You wish you still had some wine left in your glass to drink but it's empty and you slightly feel nervous, afraid that either Edie or Andy will get suspicious of you.

Hyunjin drops his hand on your knee, his thumb making lazy circles on it as a way to comfort you.

Edie smacks her lips together after taking a sip of her drink, "Yes and that's why we came here," she answers.

Andy rolls over and rests his back against the headboard of the bed, "How are you guys doing?" He suddenly asks.

Hyunjin lets out a low chuckle and turns his head at you, making you answer this one for both of you.

"So far so good," you manage to sound casual this time.

"Don't worry! We got this under control," Hyunjin adds with a convincing smile.

All of a sudden, Edie throws herself onto your bed and squeezes herself between you and Hyunjin. She glances at you and then at Hyunjin, your heart is beating so fast thinking that she caught on to your lies until she whispers.

"Guys, I have some gossip to tell you!"

You and Hyunjin exchange a quick look with each other knowing that none of them suspect anything and with that, you can let out a sigh of relief.

-

YOU: Well, [sighs] Hyunjin is just too irresistible, I— I just couldn't help it.

-

Hyunjin has broken the rules twice now and the fact that neither Edie nor Andy suspects anything only makes him think of how easy it is to break the rules.

Now he knows how sweet that forbidden fruit is, he feels like having another bite.

While everyone else is already tucked into the beds, Hyunjin goes to the dressing room knowing that you're there. He finds you standing by your closet and taking out your clothes. Even with your face already bare and your hair tied into a messy bun, you look just as attractive.

Planning to surprise you, Hyunjin quietly gets behind you and hoists you against his body, taking you with him to the small space wedged between the two huge closets.

"What are you doing?" You ask half giggling.

He turns you around and pushes you to the wall, pining you with his body.

"I'm about to kiss you," he says, leaning in for a kiss.

You look the other way, mewling in disapproval and a while later, look at him to say, "We can't break more rules."

Hyunjin takes your hands and puts them around his shoulders as he closes the gap between your bodies, impossibly close he can feel your chest heaving against him.

"Hyunjin..." you mewl again as he leans in again but he lets his lips land on your neck, trying to tease you another way.

The way you grip the nape of his neck and lowly whimper as he nibbles on your ear, Hyunjin can tell that it's working so he slowly drags his lips up the column of your neck.

To make sure you're not avoiding his kiss again, he gently holds your chin and plants his lips on yours. He takes his time, kissing you slowly yet deeply while feeling your body against him.

A moment later, you break the kiss with a gasp and then bury your head in his neck.

"Everyone is going to be so mad at us," you mumble.

Hyunjin doesn't even think about anything else at this moment, all he can think about is you and your body, and how he wants to ruin you in so many ways.

"We can stop," he says but his hand glides up to your chest and his fingers lightly trace your nipple against the fabric, making it hard for you to say no to him.

He intensely stares at you and waits if you're going to say anything to stop him from doing anything but he gets nothing but the same lustful eyes from you.

He pulls the strap of your top down your shoulder, sending your breast spilling out of it and he quickly takes it into his mouth. As he sucks on it, you let out a breathless whimper with your nails dug into his shoulder. Feeling mischievous, he takes more of the flesh and sucks harder, making you yelp in pain.

"Oh, fu—" You can barely finish your word. You hurriedly plant your mouth on his neck to keep yourself quiet.

Hyunjin knows he can't leave a mark so he stops himself from doing it, slowly pulling away while looking up at you with a string of saliva connecting his lips with your nipple.

Not letting the camera catch you half-naked, he immediately fixes your top for you while blocking you with his body.

He presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're so fucking sweet."

You look down and shyly giggle in response.

Something about you being shy that makes him want to ruin you more, makes him bolder by the minute that he doesn't hesitate anymore to crash his lips against yours and kisses you harder.

-

HYUNJIN: This kiss is worth every penny and every amount of shit that I'm about to get [grins]

-

If breathing wasn't necessary, you believe Hyunjin wouldn't stop kissing you.

He reluctantly breaks the kiss with a low groan and then buries his head in your neck, putting all of his weight against you.

You steadily hold him and put your hand in his silky locks of hair, scratching at his head with your fingertips. If it weren't for the other people, you would have stayed in there and probably continued the make-out session. However, you're aware that the longer you two are absent from the bedroom, the more suspicious they'll get.

Before he gets to do anything else, you put your hands on his chest and slowly push him away from you.

"It's getting late," you murmur at him.

As he reacts with a pout at you, you place a kiss on his cheek to console him and a quick ruffle on his hair. He slips his arms around you to hug you one more time to finally obey you.

It's a little nerve-wracking to walk back into the bedroom together, you try to act normal and try not to make any eye contact with anyone in the room as you walk to your bed.

You look at Hyunjin and he looks calm as if he didn't just kiss the life out of you back in the dressing room. He throws the decorative pillows onto the floor and pulls the duvet now, climbing onto his side of the bed.

It puts you at ease that no one is suspecting anything or that's what you see as they're busy chatting with their respective bed partners. You can't tell if you should consider it as luck because you slightly fear that Hyunjin is going to get bolder now, especially once the lights are out.

"Goodnight everyone," Edie sweetly says in the dark.

You look over your shoulder to the bed next to yours, "Night, Edie."

She outstretches her hand at you and you grab at it, "Night, sexy babe," she says back at you.

You pull the duvet to cover your legs and when you rest your head, Hyunjin's arm is already there, offering it as your pillow. He pulls you close once you lay down and kisses your neck.

"Mmh... so tired," he hums.

You slip your hand into the gaping hole on his sleeveless top and rest it on his back, "What have you been doing all night, mmh?" You poke fun at him.

He chuckles hearing your question and plants a kiss on your bare shoulder. You cautiously track his hand movement as it's dangerously going down your spine.

"Want to kiss you again," he whispers into your ear.

Your guess turned out to be right so you prepare yourself to anticipate his next move, but there's not much you can do with how tightly he holds you.

The second he leans in, you hurriedly tilt your head down so that his lips land on your eyebrow and you laugh at how he failed to kiss you.

"Oh, what did I kiss?" He asks in pure confusion.

"That's my eyebrow," you answer while still laughing.

He retracts his hand from your back and places it on the nape of your neck to keep your head steady as he leans in again and he goes on a kiss rampant all over your face.

You're quick to cover your lips with your hand but once he realizes you have your hand blocking his lips from kissing yours, he continues to ferociously kiss you.

Hyunjin eventually gives up but keeps you close to him, putting a safe space between your bodies but resting his hand on your waist to not let you get away from him.

Your hand returns to his back again, caressing his warm skin with the back of your hand, and doing it helps you calm down.

Sensing that he's getting drowsy too, you place a sweet kiss on his cheek and say, "Goodnight."

Even in a dark room, you can see him smiling at you as he says it back to you with a gentle squeeze on your waist and it feels nice.

-

YOU: I feel bad that we broke the rules but it was for a good cause.

-

The first thing Hyunjin does when he wakes up is put his arm around you and nuzzle his head in your neck.

"Morning," you mumble to him while putting his hair away from covering his face.

"I had such a good sleep," he murmurs to you.

"Did you?" You say with a sly smile.

After those kisses, you realize that you're not just physically attracted to him, you genuinely like him and it only convinces you to keep building this connection with him.

"Good morning!" Andy shouts into the room and you don't know where he gets that burst of energy this early in the day.

You look at Edie who's slightly disoriented and coo at her, "Morning, Edie baby!"

She pouts and runs her hand through her messy blond hair and twists it in her hand before securing it with a hair claw.

"I heard giggles last night," she says to you.

"From here?"

"Yeah," she answers.

"I feel like you guys broke the rules yesterday," Frida accused you two out of the blue.

 Somehow, you manage to calmly respond to her, "No, we didn't."

Hyunjin lifts his head to look at Frida and backs you up, "We did not."

You bravely look at Frida in the eyes to convince her as you add, "Just cuddling all night."

What you said seems to assure the group for now, but you know that people are starting to get suspicious of the two of you. In defense, you didn't lie, you're just withholding the truth,

-

YOU: I'm not lying, I'm just... withholding the truth [shrugs]

-

To say that you're jealous of Vic and Edouard getting a date tonight from Lana would be an understatement.

However, you're more scared of the reason why you don't get a date with Hyunjin. Lana sees everything and she knows that you break rules, in fact, she's going to expose you for it sooner or later.

You're on your second glass of wine when the call to the cabana comes and frantically searches for Hyunjin since he's the other person who knew about the rule breaks. You reunite with him on the way to the cabana and he probably knows how nervous you are from how cold your hand is as he holds it.

Like it isn't obvious enough, you tell it to him once you're both seated on the sofa, "I'm nervous."

"I know," he calmly says.

You don't know how much money you and Hyunjin spent but you know for sure that everyone is going to hate you for it.

Lana chimes and you feel like your heart just dropped to your stomach.

"In order to incentivize you to follow the rules, yesterday I doubled the fines and organized a workshop to help re-channel your sexual energy in healthy and creative ways."

It's not a good thing when Lana skips the greeting and goes straight into business, you understand why and you feel faint the closer you get to the truth.

"It seems these measures failed on every level."

"What did she say?" Marie asks.

Everyone else stays quiet as they still processing Lana's words and a moment later, the whodunit game begins. The first one to get accused of doing this is the couple who just came back from the date.

"Swear to God, we didn't do anything," Edouard immediately cleared himself and Vic from any accusations.

Andy has a bad poker face and gives himself away for everyone to see, he has no other option but to admit it right away.

"Yeah, we kissed."

"We had some time alone and we kissed, all right?" Edie explains.

"So that justifies it?" Pablo asks with a disapproving look.

"It doesn't justify it," Edie agrees with him.

"We had to go all day without knowing anything," Pablo says.

Seeing everyone's reaction to Edie and Andy's rule break only makes you anxious about what's coming to you.

"This kiss has cost the group $6,000," Lana announces the new price for a kiss.

-

YOU: I don't want to deal with everything they're dealing with right now.

-

Hyunjin does a calculation in his head. He can't even remember how many times he kisses you but if a kiss costs $6,000, the sum of what he did last night is going to be so expensive.

"That's expensive," Vic comments.

Everyone is going to know how expensive it will get when they find out how much he spent last night. He sure as hell knows there was more than one kiss.

"However, this was not the only breach of the rules," Lana continues.

Hyunjin gulps air because he knows his time has come. He gives everyone the time to prepare themselves for the truth. He looks to the side and sees you're fidgeting, he knows he can't stall it anymore.

It's time, he grits his teeth and does it, "Okay guys, listen, the first time we kissed—"

"Wait, what? The first– you kissed more than once?" Frida aggressively attacks him for it.

Shit! He shouldn't have said that, but he doesn't expect anyone to notice it either. Things are not going well with everyone going hostile on you and him all at once.

"Did you guys do something else?" Vic asks.

That's not the question Hyunjin needs right now, he gulps air again but it feels like he's trying to dry swallow a big pill.

"Look, it's—"

"Oh, my God!" Frida disappointingly says.

"What is it? What did you do?" Vic asks.

"Just touching, there was fondle... I-I don't know," you stammer while trying to explain.

"Are you serious?" Marie hysterically says.

The more he tries to explain, the worse it gets so he gives up on saying anything but waits for Lana to see where it goes.

"These rule breaks have cost the group an additional $30,000," Lana announces.

Everyone reacts in the same disappointing tone of groans and moans.

"The prize fund now stands at $132,000."

Hyunjin doesn't expect it's going to be that expensive, oh well, now he sees the consequences of his actions and is ready to accept his punishment.

"I'm sorry, guys," you apologize to everyone.

"Me too. I'm sorry," he adds with all sincerity.

"We've lost almost half of the money and it hasn't been a week," Marie scolds.

He sees it now that you're both walking on the fine edge and everyone's trust is on the line. It gets worse as Lana calls both of your names.

"Although you are displaying early signs of a deeper bond, you are spending too much energy concentrating on a physical connection rather than an emotional one."

Lana sounds mad and that's not good, Hyunjin can only hope that she doesn't kick him out this early on the retreat.

"And as you have cost the group the most money, I am setting you an additional test."

Test? When it comes to Lana's test, Hyunjin can only think of one thing and it can't be it, right?

"You will spend the night in the suite."

One thing for sure is he's relieved to not get kicked out of the retreat and for the rest... he's not sure he's going to do well on the test.

"This is your chance to show the group that your connection is more than just physical," Lana says.

Looking at everyone's doubtful look at him, Hyunjin feels the need to say something to them.

"If resisting is going to earn your trust back then I'll do it," he remarks.

Pablo sneers and says, "You lied to us. Your words don't mean until you prove it."

Ouch, that offends him but it gives him just the right motivation to prove them wrong.

"You may now leave," Lana orders.

He gets up first and offers his hand to help you, holding your hand as he exits the cabana to go to the private suite.

-

HYUNJIN: We have to earn everyone's trust back. The problem is, I have no self-control.

-

The private suite is the small guest house located not far from the main villa.

Once you get inside, you can see that the interior isn't that much different either, it's cozy and spacious. What gets your attention is how the staff decorated the room with scented candles lined up on one side of the wall, and rose petals scattered on the bed.

"What do we have here?" Hyunjin says, scanning the room for interesting things.

"Champagne, roses..." he goes to the side of the bed and picks up a furry handcuff.

"Sex toys, condoms, lubricant, oils oh..." he groans as he lists everything he finds on the bedside table.

You walk up to the bed and sit on the end of the bed, chuckling at Hyunjin's expression as he explores the tray full of various sex toys.

"You just want to make trouble, huh Lana? You want to see shit go down," you loudly shout, knowing that Lana is watching everything.

As Hyunjin walks up to you, you hold out your leg at him and rub his shin with your foot.

"Take my shoes for me, please?" You sweetly ask.

"With pleasure," he says, squatting on the floor to do what you ask. He patiently unties the laces of your heeled sandals and takes them off of you.

As he gets up from the floor, he keeps holding your legs by the ankle and lifts them, sending you lying down on the bed. He stands by the edge of the bed and holds your legs close to his chest, he runs his hands up and down the side of your legs while looking down at you.

"Is this how we're going to do it?" You playfully ask.

"Oh, you don't know what's coming for you," he seductively says, parting your legs open then puts himself in between.

There's no denying that Hyunjin is beautiful but it's only now that you have the chance to take a good look at him. You notice his shiny dark hair which he tied into a messy bun, the necklace dangling around his neck, the muscles on his arms and the veins coiling around them, and a pair of big hands with rings adorning his long fingers.

You like his hands more when they're on you but they're now propped against the bed as he hovers above you and you're about to crumble under his lustful gaze.

"The bed is perfect," you try to talk about something else entirely.

"When the lights go out it'd be like this," Hyunjin starts bouncing himself on the bed and sending the bed quaking.

He eventually stops and has you pinned under him again, burying his head in your neck, and attacking you with ferocious little kisses.

You would be lying if you said it does nothing to you, it makes the butterflies fly around in your stomach.

It doesn't take long for his kisses to turn harder, deeper and he begins to move his hand around your body. You badly want to keep him going but you know better you should do the opposite.

"At least pretend like you have some self-control," you mutter to him.

He abruptly stops moving and lightly chuckles, he pulls away to look at you, "Yeah, we're better than that."

He puts himself on top of you again, letting you hold him close and play with his hair. A moment later, he gets up while unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, completely unaware of how attractive he is for doing that.

"I'll get the bath ready," he says.

"Okay."

-

YOU: I don't think I can hold back. I want to be bad, so bad [Smirks]

-

Hyunjin dips his hand into the water to check the temperature, making sure it's not too hot or cold. Getting the temperature just right, he turns the faucet to stop the hot water and walks out of the bathroom.

"The bath is ready," he announces, finding you drinking a glass of white wine on the bed.

You nod and drain your glass, putting the empty glass away to start unbuttoning your blouse.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Taking my clothes off," you innocently answer, taking your blouse off and setting it aside.

He thought that you would go to the bathroom first to do that, not that he minded it but seeing you taking your clothes off on the bed makes his mind go wild, all sorts of lewd thoughts rushing through his head as you sit on the bed while hugging yourself with both arms to cover your breasts.

"Do you mind helping me with my skirt?" You ask for another while unzipping the skirt.

He didn't realize he'd been staring at you and quickly getting ahold of himself, "Yes, sure."

The skirt is a little tight and tugging around your hips, he has to use his strength to take it off. You lift your hips so he can easily pull it down, revealing the black lacy underwear you're wearing underneath.

The sight of your naked body splayed on the bed makes him salivate and it stresses him out that he's not able to do anything about it. He keeps licking his lips as his throat gets dry the more he thinks about touching you.

You get off the bed and go to the bathroom with both hands crossed in front of your chest, "Come on, the water is getting cold," you remind him.

Hyunjin brings the bottle of champagne and the bowl of strawberries to the bathroom, putting them on the side of the tub. He hands you your glass so he can fill it with the white wine.

"Thank you, baby," you mutter and have a sip of wine.

He puts the bottle down and leans down with his hands gripping the edge of the tub, leaving only a few inches of space between your faces.

"Let me see..." he says, taking a moment to look at you.

He doesn't fill the water high enough to get to your chest and he can see your breasts, wet and moist from the scented water. He so badly wants to cup them and see how they fit perfectly in his hands.

His eyes travel back up and looks at your face, sighing in delight as he finds you smiling at him. He allows himself to lean in and kiss your neck, a kiss on the column of your neck and another one on the skin behind your ear.

"You're so beautiful," he praises you.

You lean forward to softly place a kiss on his inner arm, "Get in, quick, don't make me wait," you tell him.

It's not hard to be confident when he has all of your attention on him, he knows he has to make it a good show for his special audience.

He maintains eye contact with you as he unbuckles his belt, he swiftly unzips his fly and tugs his fingers into both his jeans and boxers, planning to take them all off at once, exposing himself to you.

He catches the wild glints in your eyes and the way you swallow air as your eyes dart to the thing between his legs, knowing that being in this room with you is enough to cause him a semi-hard.

"Oh, man," you say to yourself, finishing your wine in one long sip as if the sight of him makes you thirsty.

That gives him a boost of confidence, he carefully gets into the tub and lowers himself down, letting the water engulf him in warmth and floral scents.

He gropes around underwater for your feet and puts them on his chest, playing with them as he looks at you from the other end of the tub.

"I'm down to whatever you want to do," he says to you.

You hold your hand out at him, "Do we have a deal then?"

He gladly grabs your hand and shakes it, "Deal!"

To seal the deal, you both clink your champagne flutes together for a toast and have a sip.

"I want to sit on your lap," you tell him.

"Do what you want," he says with such ease, ignoring that the proximity is not going to do him good.

You're slowly making your way to him, not wanting to send the water sloshing out of the tub and sit on his lap like you wanted.

The sudden rise in the temperature is not from the bathwater, it's from the tension that keeps building between you and him.

"How am I not dying right now?" He sighs, looking up at you with your hands around his shoulders.

You lean in until your nose meets his in the middle, "Why is that so?"

He's his hands on each side of your waist and resisting to go lower than that, then sighs again, "Because you're so fucking hot."

You crack a laugh and put the hair escaping your messy bun, you notice the bowl of strawberries on the side of the tub, reaching for it.

"I want one," he requests.

You pick one and feed it to him but he tugs it between his teeth, gesturing you to take a bite of it. You slyly smile then lean in, taking a bite of the strawberry and cautiously doing it to not make contact with his lips.

Hyunjin shoves the rest that you can't bite into his mouth and chews on it, he spots the chocolate dips inside the bowl of strawberries.

"Dip it into the chocolate next," he orders.

Even though you're still chewing, you reach for the bowl and pick a strawberry, dipping it into the melted chocolate like he asked.

You immediately bring it into his mouth, not risking the chocolate to drip into the tub and he hurriedly opens his mouth for you.

The bathtub is safe from chocolate but it gets all over his chin, you wipe it with your thumb only to smear it all over his mouth.

"You did it on purpose," he teases you, half laughing.

"Licking is not against the rules, right?" You doubtfully ask yet go for it without waiting for the answer.

Your tongue feels hot and slick on his chin, and somehow, it feels way more sexual than a kiss as you land a long lick across his lips, then use your thumb to clean the rest.

"All good now," you inform.

Spotting your fingers coated with chocolate, he takes them into his mouth and gently sucks on them, making you watch him doing it as he looks at you through his lashes.

"More champagne?" You offer.

"Yes, please," he answers, holding your glass for you and his for you to refill.

He initiates another toast, he takes a quick sip so he can watch you drink your wine. You're tilting your head to have a long sip and accidentally sending it dribbling down your chin, then onto your chest.

"You made a mess, baby," he tells you.

"It's your turn to clean it up for me," you playfully dare him.

Feels challenged, he pulls you closer and leans into your chest, not hesitating to lick it clean for you. He gasps when he pulls away and grins in satisfaction, anything that requires him to make physical contact with you is a win for him.

An idea crosses his head and he follows up to that by spilling his wine onto your chest.

"Oops..." he mischievously says with a sly grin.

You put on a sassy eye roll at him and put your hands on his chest, holding him by the neck then without warning, bringing his head to your chest.

Hyunjin is more than glad to be there, drinking and tasting your skin as you pour more wine down your chest. All this drinking won't quench his thirst for he has an endless thirst for you.

The next thing he knows, he's holding you close until your breasts squashed between your chests, nothing in between, skin to skin. This level of intimacy is new to him yet he feels exceptionally at ease.

He places a hot kiss on your neck and brings his mouth close to your ear, "I want to kiss you," he whispers.

You place your forehead against his and sweetly smile, "Let's save it for later, mmh?" You tell him, then softly kiss his nose.

Now all Hyunjin can think about is when he kisses you, it'll taste of strawberry and champagne.

-

HYUNJIN: I don't know if I trust myself right now [shakes head]

-

The slap on your asscheek startles you as you brush your hair in front of the sink.

"Giddy up! Let's get to bed," Hyunjin says, ogling at your ass and tempted to land another slap.

"Just a second," you tell him, patiently brushing the end of your hair before turning around to face him.

You throw your arms around him and he catches you right away, hoisting you against him to take you to bed. You tightly cling to him and put your legs around his waist.

"Oh!" You loudly moan as he throws you on the bed and puts himself on top of you next.

To not put his whole weight on you, he props his elbow against the bed and looks down at you, he plays with the thin strap of your silk camisole, twirling it around his slender finger.

"For fuck's sake! Can you stop looking so sexy?" He says with a heavy and erratic breath.

You watch his hand go down the front of your body, holding your breath when it gets dangerously close to where you want him.

At the same time, you feel like teasing him because it's fun to see him trying not to fold. You open your legs as his hand reaches your abdomen and he stops moving.

"Don't open your legs!" He demands.

You shut them and open them again the next second, spreading them wide, showing off your thin white underwear that barely covers your private part.

"Oh, fuck!" He curses out loud, struggling to not touch you there.

Before his intrusive thought wins, you take his hand and place it around your waist as you lay on your side, facing him to stare at his beautiful face.

You let your hand run down his bare chest, caressing the skin with your knuckle. You badly want to place kisses all over him so you go for it, going for his neck first then his chest next.

Hyunjin lays back on the bed and lets you continue, tracing the outline of his abs with your hand while your lips are busy placing searing kisses across his chest.

"How am I meant to resist?" He sighs as he takes a fistful of your hair in his hand.

You go for his ear, nibbling at it and taking a gentle bite at it, laughing when you see his reaction.

"Oh, I'm fucked," he groans yet with a grin on his face.

Hyunjin hovers above you again, looking at you with eyes wide and dark with desire, almost like a predator about to eat his prey.

You softly scratch the nape of his neck and then both of his ears which you notice are reddening as you play with them.

"I'm only waiting for you to say the word," he murmurs to you.

The word is on the tip of your tongue, it has been since the moment you step into the room and being alone with him. But there's too much at stake, the money and the trust you need to earn back.

Hyunjin is just good at doing that, distracting you with his plush, luscious lips. The long kiss he's planting blurs your judgments and makes you forget what is right and wrong.

The hand resting on your stomach steadily holds you down as he keeps kissing you all over your neck and chest, making you hot all over.

"Just say the word and I'll do it," he whispers to you.

This is such a dilemma. You want to be good but the bad in you keeps wanting to come out and play, especially with Hyunjin on top of you.

"I think it'll be the most expensive suite of the season," you say.

He detaches his lips from your jaw and says, "I'm more than happy to make that happen."

Caught between two choices, you think hard for a moment, considering all the pros and cons of both choices. But how your judgment is going to be fair when Hyunjin starts to go down on you, planting kisses down the front of your body?

He places a long, heavy kiss on your abdomen just right above the waistband of your underwear, then he lifts his head and asks, "How it's going to be, mmh?"

Gosh! How can you resist this sexy man? Even if you can, do you have the will to? You put your hand in his hair and tug at it.

"Let's give Lana something good to watch," you answer with a smirk.

-

YOU: Sorry, Lana but you put me in this situation.

-

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Temporary Fix! || skirt chaser!Johnny

Rating: E Words: 4.1K~ CW: smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who can't keep it in his pants. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @crashtestbunny because I wanted her to be able to read this and not have the previous cheating plot in place.

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time when they're very young, fighting in a war that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection from local women.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish is a grown man, not one of those young lads of 18, recently out basic, who need a whole to bury their cock in or else they'll die. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he's constantly seeking out action on the side.

He goes on and on about how childish those stupid recruits are, about some of his old mates who'd shag anything that walks... Only to then leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A hypocrite, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player... He’s not above calling himself that. But sometimes he just needs to decompress! That's his excuse anyway. Decompressing. Letting out pent-up aggression. Orgasms are great stress-relievers...

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, or a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along. 

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, unlike Johnny, he can actually contain himself. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has a tendency to chase like they owe him money... And he still enables him. He still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care. 

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music. 

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to. 

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks. 

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you. 

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk. 

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get. 

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple. 

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes… 

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do. 

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

yes, this is a repost of the original "Temporary Fix." but without the cheating :)

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[tetsuskei]

synopsis: kuroo fathoms how his childhood has affected his life growing up into adulthood, and ultimately fatherhood

notes: reupload from last year. actually get to uploaded on mother’s day. daughters have curly hair (based of my hair kinda). self indulgent. for context, reader have two daughters named akira (7) and sora (4).

work count: 2.5k

warnings: tough family relations, angst, fluff

mother's day is a strange day for kuroo tetsurō.

he never grew up close to his mother, his only memories being from when he was younger than six. they were hazy.

most of the memories unfortunately surround his father and mother arguing—whether that was somewhere off nearby or being heard from through the walls.

in the past, with the little memories he had of his mother, he tried not to think so badly of her.

but when he had reached out to her a number of years later, he was met with an unfortunate sight. she had moved on from kuroo and his father—starting a brand new life with a new husband, and also a new child. a daughter. a half sibling he hadn't known about.

he hasn't talked to his mother since then.

but now mother's day is also full of blessings and happiness for kuroo, too. because he has you, of course. the best mother to his children.

he had strictly told his assistant to make sure he had no work on mother's day. he always tried to work a little overtime (whether it was his will or not) but needed to be sure that nothing would interfere with this day.

you're luckily, not the lightest sleeper, but it will only be a matter of time before you would realize kuroo isn't in bed. which is why he tactfully grabbed his last worn suit jacket and placed it over his pillow for you to hold.

that would be able to stave you off for awhile.

his next step is to wake up your girls. he had discussed with them the plan for mother's day, which included making you breakfast and providing you with your gifts, and of course spending time with you.

he just forgot to factor in two small things: getting them awake and dressed.

"rise and shine my sweet angels." he softly coos, abruptly opening up the blinds for light.

the youngest, sora, sleepily squirms in her bed, rubbing her eyes (one's that match her father's) and squints.

"there she is!" he cheers, coming over to plant kisses on his daughter's face. he lifts her in his arms, swinging her a bit. "good morning, sweetheart."

"papa, stop!" she giggles, trying to avoid his lips.

he frowns, pausing, "do you not love me?"

her eyes—the same warm hazel as his—widen with shock. "of course, papa!"

kuroo beams, resuming his kiss attack, "good, because i love you sooo much. let's try to get your sister up, kay?" he hums, sora nodding before hopping out of his arms to jump on top of her sibling.

akira, the eldest, has always been a grumpy sleeper—he often left you to wake her up because, well, frankly put: kuroo is scared of his own daughter and her wrath.

"up! wake up, 'kira!" sora jumps on top of her sister, shaking her.

there's a small sound of noise as kuroo approaches his eldest daughter's bedside. "looks like someone is awake after all." he manages to find her face in her bundle of sheets and laughs at how much she looks like you when she's grumpy. "good morning, princess."

"...i'm not awake." akira mumbles, rolling over.

he sits for a moment, and thinks of the one thing that he's best at.

scheming.

"oh, well i guess if you're not awake, you won't be able to get any yummy pancakes for breakfast, will you? it's a shame because they're your favorite—chocolate chip. sora, mommy, and i will just eat them all and celebrate mother's day without you, then..." he says sadly, faking a pout.

akira sits up straight, glaring at her father. "you wouldn't dare."

he smirks, "i would." he pats her head, kissing her nose. "come on kiddo, time to get up."

she doesn't seem convinced until it registers in her mind what he said earlier, "mother's day!"

"momma day!" sora cheers, springing out of bed. kuroo catches her in his arms, hushing her softly.

he grunts as he squats down to their level, but beckons akira to him.

"we're going to play the quiet game, okay? your mom is still asleep right now and we don't want to wake her up yet to ruin the surprise. so i need you two to stay quiet. can you two do that for me?" he asks.

the two nod with enthusiasm, giggling as they rush off to get teeth brushed and ready. he helps them get their outfits out while they do so.

getting them dressed was only half the battle, now the real battle was taming their hair.

"oh god..." he grumbles, staring at the sight in front of him.

both of your daughters had a hair type similar to yours (thankfully) but that means that they also inherited the unruliness of their father's hair.

he's watched you do their hair, marveled at the way that your hands moved skillfully to create whatever updo they wanted.

"okay tetsurō, we can do this." he hypes himself up in the mirror, just like before his pitches for his job.

he starts with sora, who requests 'piggies' (pigtails).

"i'm forgetting something..." he mumbles, looking around. but after searching for god knows how long he moves on.

"no!" there's a yelp and akira smacks her dad's hand away from her sisters head.

he blinks, "what?"

"papa, you can't brush without the water." sora says, handing him a spray bottle.

it suddenly clicks for him. "oh, you're right. thank you, darlings." he kisses the top of their heads.

after finishing his handiwork he adds ribbons to her hair. not the best but honest work.

he gives akira 'bunnies' (buns), and before he knows it, he's done.

getting down to the kitchen and making breakfast was the final step.

tetsurō likes to think he's a decent cook. he pales in comparison to you, but pancakes can't be that hard to make, right?

"oops," sora mumbles, knocking over the pancake mix. it falls onto the ground, but part of it also lands on her sister.

"girls," kuroo says sternly, hands on his hips.

they instantly stop, freezing.

there's a frown on his face, and it makes the two of them shiver. "if you keep that attitude up, neither one of you will get pancakes. sora, you're going to have to clean up the mess you made, and akira i need you to help your sister get the broom since she's too small for it. do you both understand?"

"yes, sir." they say in unison, moving to complete their tasks.

he smiles, voice gentle again, "thank you."

they do as told, and while they clean up, he's able to get breakfast going. he gives them minimal tasks (ones that don't involve a mess).

"alright, why don't you guys try the pancakes to make sure they're yummy enough for mommy."

"oh!" akira scrambles over, ready to take a bite.

unfortunately her sister swoops in, stealing the fork and eating the food.

akira glares, grumbling, "thief!"

sora quickly flees from her sister, running around the island.

kuroo starts to call after them, "hey—"

"sounds like you guys are having fun all without me." the sound of your voice alerts all three of them to you, standing sleepily in the opening of the doorway.

the sound of your entrance makes your girls run to you, and you don't hesitate to embrace them in your arms.

you stand back up straight, holding up your husbands clothes, "did you really try to replace yourself with your suit jacket?"

"you said my cologne smells nice, so—" he mumbles, padding over to you like a child before taking your face in his hands, "you're not supposed to be up right now, by the way."

you laugh, "i won't lie, it worked for a minute. then i realized how cold and soft everything was."

"are you calling me hard? like a rock?" he jokes.

you poke his stomach, "with all this muscle, yeah."

"i'll take that as a compliment, then. happy mother's day, sweetheart." he smiles, kissing your forehead before leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

there's a noise of disgust, and you look at your two daughters who are gagging.

"he has cooties, momma!" sora whines.

you laugh, "i'm sorry, girls. but your daddy's cooties are my favorite."

3:45 p.m.

on mother's day, tetsurō likes to take time to focus on his oba-san. he always brings her, her favorite flowers. today he brings along his girls while you went off to brunch with your own mother.

"you're doing a great job." his grandmother smiles sweetly at him.

"huh?" he looks up, startled by her comment, he looks away from his daughters.

"you're doing well, tetsurō. stop worrying so much." she looks off at his daughters playing, "you're raising two beautiful, respectable young girls there. you and your wife should be proud."

"ahh, is it that obvious?" he laughs, scratching the back of his head, blushing red. it scares him how much that woman can read him like a book. there's five people in his life who can do that and he wonders if it's five too many. but it never will be.

"well, i did learn from the best, after all." he smiles, holding her hand. it's rare and few nowadays that he can break down his barriers and become vulnerable (with anyone besides you, of course). but he will always be his oba-san's tetsu-chan.

it's a blessing and a gift for his girls to see their great grandmother, he thinks. not many people can do that.

6:04 p.m.

"i hope you're proud of yourself, tetsu-kun."

kuroo lastly visits kenma's mother, the latter had already been by earlier and is not present at the moment due to his different schedule.

he sits up, "proud of...?"

"your abilities as a father." kozume-san smiles, "you've always looked out for others, that was evident with our kenma. so i have no doubt that you turned out to be such a great father. you and your wife are doing amazing."

he quietly says thank you, pausing as he thinks and ruminates over a thought.

"do you think things could've been different?"

the woman looks up, understanding his intended meaning. if kenma's perception came from anyone, it's his own mother.

"you mean, if your mother was present?"

he nods, quiet.

"well, certainly different," she starts, "but you've grown up fine as you are now. so it's not to say you didn't need a mother—but you at least have mother figures."

"as long as i'm around and i'm sure your grandmother, as well as your wife, you will always have someone there to support and cherish you."

he blinks back tears and smiles, "thank you."

9:32 p.m.

kuroo grimaces, staring at the contact.

he'd been pacing for the past fifteen minutes, conflicted over what he should do.

thumbs move over the screen before he can even think about what he's doing and suddenly the tone dial is in his ear. he's never had his heart beat so fast before—not during a volleyball match, or an important exam, or a job interview.

he feels like he's on fire with nerves. this might be the hardest thing he's ever done in his life.

voicemail.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words won't come out. he feels choked up, not knowing what to do. wondering why the right words won't come out. he's a man of suaveness and eloquence. it's in the job title, so why is he blanking right now?

but this is not a job, this is real life.

he hangs up, not knowing what to say. he's frustrated with himself for now as many thoughts swirl his mind. he doesn't know how to untangle them and organize them in a way that makes sense.

kuroo doesn't sense your presence when you walk in the room, and that's how you know somethings wrong. it had been a long day and you barely had any time to yourselves and more importantly to check in with him.

you place your hand on his arm, gently squeezing him. "tetsu, what's wrong? what's bothering you?" you hold his face in your hands, eyes scanning over the small creases in his face.

he runs his thumb over your soft skin. quiet as he gathers his thoughts.

"...am i a terrible father for keeping the girls away from my mother?" he asks, looking at you.

you're silent for a good while, and he worries that you'll respond with rage, maybe even mild resentment. he doesn't know if he can handle that.

"that's ultimately your choice, tetsurō. it's not my right or place to force you to reconcile with your mother for the sake of our children."

"i mean, don't you have some right as the mother of my children?" he points out, "they'll wonder in the future about her. i know that for sure."

"'ro, you do it because you want to. not because you feel like you have to." you say, giving him a smile. "besides, they love their hii obasan and my mother very much. they have plenty of people in their lives that make sure they are loved and make it well known."

"i don't know what you have going on between you and your mother, but whenever you're ready to share the full story, i will be here."

and so he unloads the heavy burden he had been carrying with him for years, feeling his chest tighten at times as he recalls events. you can tell he's trying his best to remain impassive, but you hold him tightly, hoping he knows you're there for him and you aren't going anywhere.

once he finishes, it's eerily quiet. you both don't say anything for a moment.

"it's okay to cry, tetsu." you murmur against his forehead. "you don't have to act like you're okay all the time for other people's sake. think of yourself for once."

he relaxes at your words, inhaling sharply and closing his eyes. you feel his tears stream down his face and wipe gently, reaching over the bedside to dab his eyes away with tissues.

"you're...you're right. that's the one thing that matters most to me. growing up, i always felt sometimes that the adults get lost in their own worlds and forget about the children." he laughs, running his hand over his face.

"so you don't want them to feel alone." you say, grabbing his hand. there's a silent understanding as you recall your own childhood. it wasn't a bad one, but that doesn't dismiss the turmoil that was trudged through. "and we won't let that even happen."

"yeah." he says, closing his eyes.

"and you're not alone either," you add, "we do things as a team, remember that."

"i'm very thankful to have a mother of my children be someone as angelic as you." he hums, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and nose.

suddenly, his phone lights up and you both stare at it in silence. the name reads 'don't pick up!'.

kuroo takes an exhale, picking up the device. mind swimming with thoughts and anxiousness as his thumb hovers the screen.

he answers.

[persphonesorchid]

Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?” 

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station.  There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives. 

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.  

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.  

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.  

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”  

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.  

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.” 

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.  

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.  

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.  

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.  

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.  

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.  

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.  

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.  

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”  

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”  

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.  

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.  

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.  

July is always rainy. 

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all. 

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes. 

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.  

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else. 

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you. 

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through. 

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.  

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.  

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He’s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy. 

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him. 

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.  

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago. 

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all. 

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella. 

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill. 

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat. 

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.” 

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee. 

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him? 

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him. 

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting. 

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with. 

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come. 

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of. 

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats. 

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him. 

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope. 

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection. 

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys. 

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound.  His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.  

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.   

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”  

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.” 

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.” 

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.  

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”  

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.” 

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music. 

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.” 

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.” 

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.” 

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better. 

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing. 

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple. 

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes. 

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.” 

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.  

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers. 

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.  

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both. 

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.” 

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.  

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.  

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.  

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”  

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time.  As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him. 

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.   

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.  

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be. 

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”  

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.   

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?  

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.  

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again. 

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder. 

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.  

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.  

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.  

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.  

You kept it. 

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.” 

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.” 

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious. 

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”  

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.  

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.  

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”  

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.  

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.  

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.  

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.  

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?” 

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask,  but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going. 

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it. 

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.  

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels. 

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.  

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.  

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.  

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest. 

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger. 

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

He owed you much more than that.  

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.  

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.  

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.  

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.  

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.  

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.  

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio. 

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.  

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.  

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.  

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.  

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.  

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.  

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.  

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging. 

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him. 

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.” 

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.” 

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away. 

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?” 

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?” 

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?” 

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.” 

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.  

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.” 

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.  

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

[merumis]

by the time kuroo turns 23, he's the richest he's ever been.

you both know it's not much. you're still renters, but he could afford to pay your half of it if he wanted; could cover your end of the groceries (the ones from the budget stores, aldi, trader joe's) if you asked; more than half your furniture is thrifted, and you have more diy decor than you'd like to admit, but there's a check for 375 dollars made out to his grandmother sitting on your coffee table. he sends one every month.

when you both stumble into your apartment—a little drunk, kuroo half-an-edible in, both just starting to come back down—that little check shouldn't be the first thing your eyes land on. but they do, and you peel yourself off of kuroo to look at it. you lean over the coffee table and squint, your hair falling around your face as you scrutinize his little signature.

"when you gonna send this off?" you ask. when you turn your head to look at kuroo, it feels a little wobbly—like if you turned fast enough, your head would keep spinning without your body following.

he's setting down a whole slew of things on your counter: gifted bottles of wine that have red bows tied around their necks; three gift bags with tissue paper threatening to spill out of them; a pair of sunglasses that you don't think he started the night with. he spreads his hands out on the counter when they're finally free—stretching out his neck and his shoulders with a few soft pops as his palms slip across the granite.

"tomorrow," he replies, and then laughs. "felt weird to send a check out on my birthday."

you hum and walk over to him—on the other side of the island, so you can look at him while you grab one of his hands, lightly playing with one of his fingers.

"happy birthday," you say, "by the way." you bob your head to the last three words and you catch the way the right side of his mouth curves upwards—exposing just the tip of his canine. he glances back then, turning towards your stove. you follow his line of sight and find 12:16 blinking back at you.

"think you're a little late."

you lean over the counter to swat at his chest, and he laughs—maybe a little harder than deserved.

"you know i wasn't," you say, and kuroo shrugs.

"whatever you say," he replies, all dragged out and a little stupid.

he's wearing a sweater that he bought with his first big paycheck. he'd passed it four times in the mall before he went in, just to get a closer look. he winced at the price tag and you told him you'd venmo him for half—he wouldn't accept it, so you bought him lunch later and ate it in his car while a little brown paper bag sat in his backseat.

it's soft, you know. you reach out mindlessly, pinching the material between your forefinger and your thumb. he lets you, though visibly amused as you rub the cotton against the pads of your fingers.

"did you ever think you'd get here?" you ask him.

"where? to twenty-three?"

"no," you groan, elongating the 'o' sound as you drop your head down. you still feel a little floaty. "like, here," you add. it's not very descriptive. "yuppie-ville, making money, whatever."

he laughs, "yuppie-ville?"

"there's a plant store two blocks down."

"yeah," he says, "yeah, okay." he takes in a breath. you're still holding his sweater, so you can feel the way his chest swells. it pushes against your fingers for a moment, until he expels the breath with a solid no.

you hum a little question in reply.

"no, i didn't think i'd get here." he chews at the side of his mouth for a second, and you watch the way his eyes narrow at nothing, focusing somewhere behind you. "i thought i'd be back home by now. probably working dad's hardware store."

"i thought he sold last year?" he glances down to you, a grin inching its way into his eyes.

"he'd find a way to get me back there."

and though you know he didn't expect to be here yet, and you know this is probably the last thing he's thinking about—you keep watching the way he melts into the counter. and then your eyes flick up to his hair, that smells like the expensive shampoo he decided to splurge on last week, and then down to his arm—where you know he has a new tattoo hiding. it's a silly flash he got from an apprentice he likes—a whale that wraps around the side of his bicep.

"you look good," you say, without really thinking, but you're watching the way his hair has started to curl and you keep glancing down at his hands and you're still holding his sweater because he's still letting you. "here," you continue, "you look good here."

you might live in yuppie-ville, but when you first moved in, you were both surrounded by boxes and exhausted, so kuroo ordered you a pizza while you laid on the floor, and now he walks to work whenever he can because he likes to peak into the store windows on his way over. he still wears the t-shirts he got for free in college, and he switches between the fancy cologne you bought him in august and the cheap one he loves from two birthdays ago.

he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

"you're drunk," he says. a little heat finds its way into your cheeks, but you shrug.

"and you're high," you reply, he laughs.

"barely."

you've been at three of his birthdays now, and though you always love watching him at the party—where he's loud and maybe a little annoying, walking the room and hugging people you think you remember stories about—you find you always prefer the wind-down. they come earlier every year and this one, you note, might be your favorite yet.

you don't want to say he's getting old because, frankly, he's not. but you found a grey hair at the nape of his neck the other day, and you kept it your little secret. you couldn't find it the next night, combing your fingers through his hair while he slept on your chest, but you know its there. you think you could chalk it up to stress, or maybe the fact that the first pictures of his dad going grey start at twenty-one, but in a weird way it rounds him out for you; bridges the gap between the kuroo you hooked up with halloween parties and the one who mops your floors every sunday.

"we should go to bed," he says, finally, after you've both been holding onto each other over this island counter for far too long.

there's a part of you that wants to protest—that wants to watch him for a little longer; put on a record and stare at him and maybe finish the other half of his edible before bed. you think about combing through his hair, resting his head in your lap, memorizing the bump that lives right in the middle of his nose bridge. you think you could fall asleep on that big fluffy rug you bought—that might be the only full-price item in this apartment—and let the sun shining through your balcony door be your first order to wake up in the morning.

and then you think about ending the day in bed. the sheets kuroo bought you as a gift just because, the soft nightlight you found in the clearance section of a department store that changes colors when you tap it. you think about crawling under the covers and curling into his chest and the feeling of one of his old t-shirts swallowing you whole.

"okay," you say. "birthday boy's last wish, or whatever."

kuroo laughs as he pulls you towards your room.

"don't call me that again."

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[slutforalastor]

you never thought this day might come, sat down with the Radio Demon's head in your lap, his gaze lazy and half-lidded as he allows you, generously, so generously, to touch the pronged antlers that extend from the top of his head. His lips pass soft white noise as you run a finger from the base to the tip of his antlers, the vibration that you can feel beneath the hard exterior somewhere between the hum of a domestic appliance and the throb, throb, throb of a heartbeat

You can feel Alastor's shoulders tense up whenever you put too much pressure on them, his calm breathing briefly interrupted every time you push his sensitivity past his tolerance. Each time you find yourself being too exploratory, you correct yourself back to the safety of gentle strokes, letting your fingertips soak in the unique texture. They are somewhere between the firm smoothness of exposed bone, like his teeth when they drag across the topmost layer of your skin, leaving perfect streaks too shallow to bleed, too pronounced to refute their creator, and the spongy give of delicate flesh. You know the trust he's imparted to you to be given this kind of access; not only does he so limit incoming touch, but resents any reminder of his reincarnation as a prey animal.

"I'm surprised you're okay with this," you murmur to him, so unwilling to compromise the sanctity of this moment.

"Only because it is you," Alastor assures you, his tone just as hushed.

You continue, relishing in this opportunity. You explore every hook and divot of the black extensions, marveling at the current of demonic energy that pulses through them. It was your impression that they only grew when Alastor was angry, but not quite: any overwhelming passion, be it joy, theoretically speaking, or fear, or sadness, and they will billow out. You wonder if you can elicit such a response. Your opening gambit is strong: you lean into his ear, whispering "If anyone else were to do this, you'd tear them apart, wouldn't you?"

"For even less than this, dearest. I'd assumed that was obvious."

"But not me?"

"But not you."

"Maybe I want you to tear me apart, love."

The first sign; you feel a shift through the skeletal system they're connected to, a tremor of recognition, of sudden awoken desire.

"I'm sure you just aren't aware of what you're asking for."

"No, I'm all too aware. You want something deeper, too, don't you? It can't be enough just to meet in such a temporary union, only to separate. I want you to bring a little piece of me along with you, knowing you've claimed more than just one part of me, but any you desire."

He shudders, deeper this time, and you feel growth. Sharp edges and deeper curves sprout like curling ivy where there had once been certain ends, like a blossoming tree bursting into life. Your loving strokes down the length of his antlers grow deeper, more pronounced, almost incessant.

"What game are you playing at?" Alastor pants, his breathing hitching every time you push against them with any kind of firmness.

"I love seeing what you do."

His body has seized, but doesn't do anything else. You can feel the efforts of the sinew across his back against your lap. Best of all are his facial expressions; his initial contentment has evolved, firstly into surprised, the edges of his bladed grin peeking out from his thin lips, his eyes squinted and playful. Now it's become a look of desire, his mouth open slightly, droning a steady song with no melody but a captivating refrain, nonetheless. His eyes plead with you; so uncharacteristic, for him to be putty in your hands. To think you could hold the high ground in any situation, much less as a result of this.

"Don't toy with me," he warns, but his voice doesn't sound assured. It sounds needy, like a request for more.

"I would never, love."

"Then end this teasing," he begs.

You do as he asks, taking your hands away from his antlers. With some strain, he manages to get his breathing back under control, his antlers receding like the retreating tide, back to their typical size. "Did you enjoy yourself?" you wonder, after he's calmed himself.

He looks at you with mischief etched in his features. "Not as much as I'm sure I will soon enough." ~~~

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.

Whatever. 

There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.

The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week, and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves—not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening—plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes, and can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be happening inside of the building. Sadly, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle though, so.

He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.

He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.

Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten that Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.

Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.

Derek almost laughs at that.

The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.

“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 

“I—what?” Derek's caught off guard; always and only by Stiles. 

Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.

Oh, right.

“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.

Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looking as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.

It doesn't last.

Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.

Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.

An anchor.

Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around, so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.

His heart.

“I asked if you were alright because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye, which works, of course, because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 

Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 

Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way—self-preservation and all.

“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 

Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay, and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, let him tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.

“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add—after what is undeniably too-long a pause—“And yeah. Maybe I do.” 

Then they just look at each other.

Just—look.

Look and look and look and look.

They each keep looking at the other, for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.

Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

Whatever happened to self-preservation?

Something is starting to happen, and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about it. 

Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.”

Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, adding—with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder—“Till we're not.”

The latter part is spoken like a secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice. That's not how he means it. It's more promise than threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like.

The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's and Derek could swear he hears every every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once, as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive; nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.

He feels utterly alive.

It's honestly a struggle not to keen and whine like a pup, and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because Derek would be so fucked right now.

He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.

Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit. Just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.

In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 

He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.

Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper.

“Till we're not.”

Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek, before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.

Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.

That's a lot of weird. 

Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.

He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 

He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.

Derek is memorised. 

Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Everything, Der.”

.

for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)